Woke up with two sweaty, smelly, sweet boys blanketing my tired and sore body. Soaked in their sort-of-sweetness, and kissed fat cheeks with abandon, much to the chagrin of the bigger boy. Kicked the cats off my legs, waddled to the bathroom, brushed teeth, changed a diaper (not mine, I swear), woke the sweaty, smelly, sweet girl. She practically bounded out of bed, at least by her standards.
We dressed, packed up a few baskets of laundry to move downstairs, hopefully we'll wash some laundry today. We ate breakfast, packed a lunch, got the appropriate child on the bus, sent the boys off on their hobby horses down the street to Grandma's, lumbered myself into the car.
Had fifteen extra minutes?!?!!? (How that happened I will never know.) Stopped at the Target for a vanilla latte, because I'm like that, and I haven't actually had coffee in so long I've lost track. Drove to my midwife's office, got there early!?!?! (How that happened, I will never know.) Walked in the door as she was running out the door to catch somebody else's baby. Left a sample, drank my latte, read a magazine, made the grocery list (mostly cereal and fruit and yogurt), took a nap.
It was all very normal.
I'm sure her day started out normal, or at least her yesterday ended normally. She was not calmly enjoying her fancy coffee when she arrived at the office. She was sobbing hysterically. Weeping, practically shrieking unintelligible words of panic and confusion. The nurses ushered her into the room next to mine, and as I laid there listening and developing a rather annoying cramp in my lower back, her life as she knew it was ending.
The life that she knew was ending.
I didn't need someone to tell me what was happening. People don't cry like that for any other reason.
She was alone there, surrounded by the obstetrician, and the midwife and the nurses and the physician's assistant. Nobody accompanied her to the office. The doctor wheeled her empty self across the street to the hospital for emergency surgery. Her cries rang in my ears, in my heart, and they did not become quieter as she was wheeled away.
When the midwife came in to see me, she asked me how I was feeling today. I didn't know what to say.
We dressed, packed up a few baskets of laundry to move downstairs, hopefully we'll wash some laundry today. We ate breakfast, packed a lunch, got the appropriate child on the bus, sent the boys off on their hobby horses down the street to Grandma's, lumbered myself into the car.
Had fifteen extra minutes?!?!!? (How that happened I will never know.) Stopped at the Target for a vanilla latte, because I'm like that, and I haven't actually had coffee in so long I've lost track. Drove to my midwife's office, got there early!?!?! (How that happened, I will never know.) Walked in the door as she was running out the door to catch somebody else's baby. Left a sample, drank my latte, read a magazine, made the grocery list (mostly cereal and fruit and yogurt), took a nap.
It was all very normal.
I'm sure her day started out normal, or at least her yesterday ended normally. She was not calmly enjoying her fancy coffee when she arrived at the office. She was sobbing hysterically. Weeping, practically shrieking unintelligible words of panic and confusion. The nurses ushered her into the room next to mine, and as I laid there listening and developing a rather annoying cramp in my lower back, her life as she knew it was ending.
The life that she knew was ending.
I didn't need someone to tell me what was happening. People don't cry like that for any other reason.
She was alone there, surrounded by the obstetrician, and the midwife and the nurses and the physician's assistant. Nobody accompanied her to the office. The doctor wheeled her empty self across the street to the hospital for emergency surgery. Her cries rang in my ears, in my heart, and they did not become quieter as she was wheeled away.
When the midwife came in to see me, she asked me how I was feeling today. I didn't know what to say.
oh sadness!
ReplyDeleteit can all change in an instant--we have so much to be thankful for!
Very sad . . .
ReplyDeleteit's hard when a perfectly perfect day gets sideswept and doesn't feel so perfect anymore. your words have a way of making us all feel sorrow for this anonymous someone. i'm so glad you acknowledged her. someone needed to.
ReplyDeleteI'm sending up a quick prayer for her. Maybe not so quick. I know what it's like to lose a little life you never got to meet face to face.
ReplyDeleteMost definitely a reminder to have a thankful heart - for all God's blessings every minute of every day.
Steph
thank you for telling that story of a regular day. time to count my blessings, and remember that is someone's regluar day lots of times, and I never know it. wiping tears now, ready to continue my regular day.
ReplyDeleteThat poor woman. I wouldn't have known either.
ReplyDeleteWow. Even though we don't know her, this post about her was lovely and will somehow send good thoughts her way. This was beautiful. This post makes me grateful for everything I have.
ReplyDeleteno comment, is a comment
ReplyDeleteThat was hard to read, but just the right tribute to the life that was there. Thank you.
ReplyDelete