‘I want a boy’ Yiannis reassured me in his unique non negotiable way.
‘I want a girl’ Iliana fired right back at him.
‘What do YOU want mom?’Yiannis asked me.
‘I don’t mind honey, the only thing I want is a healthy baby’ I replied with a timid smile on my face (let’s not forget I am still getting there).
Little did I know that this picture perfect Sunday morning family cuddle would be the last carefree daydreaming of baby no 3.
Three hours later I was standing in my own pool of blood, alone (N. had just dropped the kids off at my moms) and petrified. Trying to make sense of the unthinkable.
After a few frantic tries to reach N. On his cell I called my gynecologist. While crying and sobbing I tried to articulate what had just happened:
‘I think I just miscarried….there is so much blood everywhere….what should I do?’
‘Come to the hospital right away’ he replied in a calm but firm voice.
15 minutes later N. walked in, only to find me sitting on the floor in the worst state of all (that would have been one hell of a Dexter scene).
After I managed to convince him that I first had to clean myself up before going to the hospital (yes, he was THAT shocked), we took a few things and drove off.
We didn’t say much to each other on the ride to the hospital, he held my hand while the tears were effortlessly falling down my cheeks.
Did I cause that? Was it my negativity, my feeling of despair? My selfish denial of not wanting to adjust to the new reality?
It’s not your fault, don’t torture yourself now he said to me and I decided to take his word for it.
We found my sister Alex waiting at the reception. She hugged me and I cried. Again. I felt bruised and battered and empty. But I was wrong.
‘The baby is fine’, I heard my doctor say while he was doing the ultrasound. If I hadn’t seen it myself on the monitor I would have never believed it, not in a million years, not after such a blood loss. ‘But…’he continued in a more serious tone, ‘you have a placental abruption and you have lost a lot of blood.’
‘What?…what does this mean?’ I knew exactly what it meant but I was in full denial.
‘It means that you have to spend the night in the hospital for observation and if you are ok tomorrow you can go home’
‘And? What will happen home?’
‘You will have to stay in bed.’
‘But I can’t. I have two small children. Who will take care of them?
‘One day at a time. First of all, be thankful that your baby is fine. And then take it from there.’
I was. I am. I want this baby. If that was God’s or the Universe’s
extremely cruel way of making a point, I can reassure you:
Until next time
P.S. Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all