A Journey To Motherhood (working title)

Chapter 4

Today

I held his arm tightly while we waited to be accepted into a room. I found comfort in his warmth while the ache and cramping started to get progressively worse. My breathing is starting to get labored. Its starting to hurt. Like really hurt.

I feel the blood flow out onto my pad. I remember the doctor's words, If you start to fill up a pad with bleeding it means that there's something wrong. Feeling the flow come out of me, I allow it to dawn on me....there's definitely something wrong.

I close my eyes, maybe if I sleep or nap then my body will relax and recover a bit. "Ms. Norton?" I jerk up. Still clinging onto my husband's arm, we walk towards the nurse that calls us over. My back is hunched over, I'm tilting my pelvis forward. Somewhere in my brain it makes sense and it hopes that maybe it'll alleviate the pressure off my uterus, away from these progressively worse cramps.

I'm relieved to find out the walk is short to room, they place us in the room and are told to wait. The door closes behind the nurse and its just me and my husband.

"Are you ok?" he asks, worried, naturally. "I guess so," my voice is pained, frustrated, fearful. I pull myself onto the bed and lie down. I curl myself into a ball. For some reason it's the only position that provides some type of relief. Tears start to stream down my eyes, "babe....what if there's something wrong?" my voice quivers out. He quickly pulls his chair up next to the bed and brushes a hair out of my face, "hey....don't think that ok? That's why we're here, we're here to make sure everything turns out ok, alright?" He does his best to comfort me. I can see his concern primarily lies with me, he hates seeing me cry, or in pain, and is really trying to find a way to alleviate me somehow. We both know he can't.

I'm not worried about me. As the pain slowly keeps escalating, all I can think about is my baby. My poor baby. I pray, I plead, I cry out in my head, please God, not like this. Please keep him safe God, please. A sudden sharpness stabs through my lower abdomen and I gasp. God, it hurts, it hurts so much. My breathing gets harder and more labored. The tears start to flow a lot more freely. There's a part of me that wants to moan and wail in pain but I purse my lips to keep it in and try to breathe through it.

There's other people here also in pain, maybe even worse pain, I shouldn't add to their pain and stress. So no crying out. I'm tough. I'm an athlete. I have spent many years training my mind to surpass my body sensations. I can do this. A small surge of confidence kicks in and I'm able to breathe through this current level of pain. I start to crack jokes to my husband to lighten the mood and we both share small chuckles before another knife of pain slices through my lower abdomen again. I cry out once more only to quickly stifle it by burying my face into the pillow they provided. My husband reaches out and holds my hand. We just sit there with each other in silence. The only sound is of my labored breathing.

A nurse and nurse practitioner come into the room and say hi. They ask me what's been going on and I repeat it for the 3rd time patiently while also breathing heavily from the pain. I'm doing my best to keep myself together. I know everyone is just doing their jobs, but for the life of me I just want this pain to stop and for someone to tell me that my baby is ok.

The nurse practitioner nods in understanding, the RN is there just taking notes. She informs me that they will need to do an ultrasound to check on the fetus to see if this is simply a threatened miscarriage or if it's an actual miscarriage. That they at best can only give me Tylenol for the pain until we know for sure what's going on, since pain meds are not safe for the baby if he's still ok. I nod, some comfort breezes over me at the mention that there's a chance that my baby is still ok. I steel myself, knowing the pain isn't over, but I know I can do this for him. I can push through for him. I accept the Tylenol for some type of relief. I don't notice any difference in the pain the entire time though.

The nurses leave and leave me and my husband alone in our room again. "See? Things will probably be ok, hopefully we find out soon," my husband attempts at making me feel better. I smile at him in between deep breaths and close my eyes. My eyebrows furrow in concentration of going through the pain. I read somewhere in a book, "pain is only wind" and tried to visualize it breezing over me and me bending like a tree with it. It kinda worked, so I tried to keep going.

Another knife slices through. After each slice of sharp pain the cramps kept escalating. It's been a few hours now that we've been in the hospital, over time the pain just kept escalating. A nurse's assistant comes back with a gown and a new pair of underwear and a bigger pad. They suspected I was probably at capacity with my current one and they were right. After he leaves my husband helps me change, since every move I make shoots the pain throughout my whole body and sends more angry knives into my lower abdomen and uterus. I start to gasp and a cry escapes while I change. My husband suddenly halts to make sure I'm ok. "No no, keep going, just hurry up and help me finish so that I can lie down again," I quickly let out. He nods and starts to move softly but quickly until I'm fully changed. It's becoming harder to keep my mouth quiet while we wait. I allow myself some small moans. For some reason vocally expressing the pain alleviated it somewhat. I still tried to keep it to a relatively quiet moan as well. I'd imagine a ghostly sounding loud moans of pain would not help people trying to get through their own pain. I didn't want other people to have to suffer more than what there were.

While I thought these things, a brief thought goes through my brain: What is WRONG with you? You're in PAIN. Handle your PAIN! Cry! Scream! You have to! Screw those people! You're suffering too!!

I quickly hushed that voice. Determined I was going to get through this experience with my Self in tact, I composed my mental state. I chanted to myself, moreso to convince myself I will be ok, I will be ok, I am going to be ok. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Pain is only wind. Breathe.

Another few hours pass, my husband regularly checking in with the RNs as to when we'll get to the ultrasound. My head swims while I try to breathe and groan through the pain. My forehead starts to glisten with sweat from grinding through the pain. My husband just holds my hand while we wait.

"Ma'am? We're ready for your ultrasound," the nurses come in with a wheel chair and a clipboard, and wheel me out to what's next. We're going to be ok.