It happened again... And I found myself throwing clothes on our bed to Dave to pack, on the phone to the hospital and shaking with the shock. The shaking is one of the weirdest things. It happened the first time as well. A physical loss of control of your ability to hold poise... Adrenaline? Shock? I'm not sure. But as I threw things at Dave to pack in my bag, my actions were hampered by the shaking thing. Not fun.
The whole evening seemed to be surrounded by uncertainty. Every previous time I've gone in, I've felt assured and confident in those who were looking after me. Last night the doubts crept in. There seemed to be a lot more "panic" and reaction, despite the fact that the issue was (as has now been confirmed) smaller than my previous two trips. I was prepped for theatre, told to keep off food and fluids and put on an IV line. All of this seemed totally disproportionate to the situation... And the anxious thoughts began to rise... Would I be having this baby tonight? At 30+5? How was I supposed to split myself between my tiny new baby and my three children at home? Was I going to have to face long term consequences of my placenta issues? Would I survive? At night, the questions all seem so much more real and raw... I cried a lot of tears. I prayed a lot of prayers. And, as he always does, in the still and quiet and darkness of my hospital bed, the Lord sent his peace.
This morning, the sun shone bright, I was moved next to a lovely friend and we laughed and shared our anxieties together... My husband came in to see me, while my wonderful parents took care of our children, and we just chatted life, and normal things and got things back in perspective. A doctor who knows my history and whom I utterly trust was back on the ward.... The midwives have been wonderful throughout. This afternoon I prayed a while, and then slept... Recuperating after the two hours sleep I got last night. Each little thing a gift from the Lord, a mercy from his hand.
Things have settled again, and at the moment, it looks as though I'll be allowed out tomorrow, but the reality is this - the gaps between the scares are getting smaller. Each week is a gift to our baby, and a relief to me. It now looks inevitable that if we make it to 36 weeks, we'll be doing well. I'm fearful of what to do with an early baby... I'm a mother to three, but I've always brought home strong, bouncing babies who feed and sleep well. The prospect of a premie who will need to fight is daunting.
But in all things. He is good.
The Lord is going to teach me new things through this last little baby of ours. I can see it already. Lessons in patience and dependence. Lessons in humility. Lessons I am learning in the midst of the questions and in the nightime anxious thoughts.
I am so glad for so many things... For an NHS a who are run off their feet, but care so well for us, for the comforting smiles of midwives in the midst of anxiety, for a husband who has a godly perspective and helps me move out of my anxious thoughts, for parents who drop everything to care for us, for friends and family - far and wide- who pray for and with me. For all of you who so faithfully read this little space and encourage me with your kind words.
And for Jesus... Who knows my pain, comforts me in my struggles, and walks with me through the valleys.
Please do continue to pray for us