Monday, March 1, 2010


My bleeding had stopped and my daughter was still cozily tucked in the safety of my womb. I was prepped for a C-section just in case we needed to roll. I was relieved to learn my husband was on his way, my father headed to St. Pete’s to be by my side and my mother headed towards my home to care for our son. My angels from work were still with me. Good. There was a definite sense of control. The initial winds of the hurricane had settled down. We were out of immediate danger and my goal was to figure out what to do next.

Lying down automatically stopped the bleeding but the doctors were not sure if the bleeding ceased because I was in a bed or the bleeding had truly run its course. In truth, I was not too keen on finding out the answer. To put it mildly, I was terrified. I thought since the bleeding had stopped, I had some time. What was I thinking? I started having contractions and they were a few minutes apart.

Time is something we either want to linger longer with or hurry and move through. I needed time, we needed time. My husband wasn't there, my father was still in route, my best friend and her husband were on their way but I wanted them by my side to hold my hand, wipe my tears, make me laugh and help me cope with the decisions we faced. My body was determining the time of what would happen and when. I remember staring at the clock on the wall in front of my hospital bed watching the hands move so slowly. Each minute seemed so long to me because it came with uncertainty for our future. Would the contractions stop? Would we be airlifted to Seattle? How long would my daughter survive based on the wild ride we had been on the past few hours? Would my husband make it in time? Would time be my friend or enemy?

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