Wednesday, January 12, 2011
As we headed into the elevator at the hospital this afternoon, I was immediately reminded of the last time we made these same steps. My memory hit me like a ton of bricks. I remembered the feeling of discomfort, anxiety, fear of what was to come, anticipation, and excitement. The first time we entered these doors and chose our designated floor, I carried a far too overpacked suitcase, a massive sized exercise ball, set of Friends dvds to keep me entertained (silly me), my laptop, my mother, and my dear husband who was a pretty nervous guy at the time, and finally the clothes in which I would hold and cherish my first born son.
This time, unfortunately, was different. This time, I carried eyes filled with tears, a heavy heart, an achy stomach of nerves, and the intense clench of my husband's hand (who, of course, was still a pretty nervous guy). Ironically, as soon as he grasped my hand upon entering, I was overcome with feelings of discomfort, anxiety, fear of what was to come, anticipation, and excitement. I'm not sure how we landed in this place and I'm aware it will be some time before we really know, but I also know I will have to enter those elevator doors again sometime in the near future. The novelty of doing it again and again over the next few months will wear off. As the ding of the door opening lands me on the 3rd floor of this hospital, it'll feel commonplace after awhile and that makes me sad since these metal sheet doors aroused so much emotion within me. Despite this, I will always remember how bittersweet this memory, of elevator doors, are to me as I stepped foot into this contraption that would one day take me to deliver my first born son and at another time begin the preparations for me to deliver my second son. The beauty of that, alone, will get me through this. Though the emotions I felt are the same in the basic adjective form, they bring such different meanings to where we are and what is to come.
This is all I have to share right now. It is a very late 1:30 am and being on bed rest certainly has my internal clock completely off kilter. I decided at the very moment I was unsuccessfully trying to sleep, that I have a story to share. I have learned over the past months about some very brave, gentle, and supportive women through blogs. Their stories have helped me make it through the rough patches and have helped me understand and answer so many of the questions I have. If anything, I only hope to share my story to provide comfort to someone who is also faced with a life story that is not what we dreamed or had planned for ourselves.