continue to breathe and pray...

…they took me for an echo scan of my baby’s heart, the lack of distress shown by my little boy, no signs of any leaks, blockages or holes were all positive reinforcements. They decided observation was the best route to determine how often this high heart rate was occurring and which course of action would suit us best.  I was checked with a Doppler each hour for one minute and after three days and a bit more testing they decided deeper monitoring was needed to get a more accurate occurrence. Three times a day I was hooked up to monitors for an hour, my baby kicked and squirmed showing his annoyance at this intrusion (I read somewhere the sound of these monitors is equivalent to a helicopter hovering over your house). They talked a bit more about putting me on heart medication and by the end of the week concluded this was likely the best route of action, they would continue to monitor over the weekend and on Monday begin the dosage. I meditated in an effort to communicate with my baby (something I had been doing frequently) and told him it was now or never. If he truly needed these meds to make his heart healthy and strong for his arrival I was more than willing to be the vessel to deliver them to him but if for some chance he did not need them now was the time to let the doctors know.

That Saturday evening I began bleeding quite heavily, I was rushed to the birthing unit where I spent the night with what I deemed my Goddess troop. My mother, grandmother, aunt and bff did their best to keep the situation light and joyful. Although there was fear in the air the laughter cut through it like moon piercing the night sky outside our window. We made bets on the baby’s arrival and size, bribed the nurses to let me eat and joked with the doctors referring to them as characters from a popular TV medical dramody.

 I was released back to my room upstairs early in the morning but by the end of the day was brought back to the birthing unit because of enduring contractions. My Goddess troop assembled once more but now things were getting a little more serious. We did our best to keep things light but exhaustion and the reality of the situation was beginning to weigh in. I was one centimeter dilated and the contractions were steady, when they reached four minutes apart once again my mantra was the only thing that could help me breathe through the intensity and keep faith in the circumstances. I had to trust God’s plan but it didn’t stop me from begging for more time, I was only 30 weeks and I knew every day my precious baby boy was inside was a good day, I continued to breath and pray…

 

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