Friday, July 4, 2014

Ten years ago

  I can recall exactly where I was ten years ago today. I was in a Wal-Mart parking lot, eight months pregnant and unable to control my bladder. 
  The day was normal. I went to work at the bookstore, then went to dinner with my husband, Bob, at Cracker Barrel. The whole day was spent agonizing over my bladder problems. In the last month of pregnancy, you're warned that you may have issues with bladder control and leakage. Well, I was having that in spades. It started the night before and got progressively worse. To the point that I was wearing a pee pad-like contraption in my pants. Imagining life in that state for the next month was a horrorshow.  
  After dinner, we looked at cribs at Wal-Mart. It was our last month to prepare. We just had the baby shower and were preparing to get the major things like crib and car seat soon. We watched some fireworks from the lot and headed home. 
  That's when I noticed the blood when I peed.  
  "Bob, we'd better go to the hospital?" 
  "Well, if you think it can't wait until morning."
Yes, this is literally what he said. This man hated going to the doctor more than I did. He also thought I was an hypochondriac throughout our entire relationship. In reality, I was just a sickly person. I once threw up 23 times in one day before he believed I really had the flu. At my insistence, we went to the emergency room. 
  I gimped my way in with my legs crossed to keep from peeing myself. It must've looked like a bad Axl Rose dance. I told the receptionist, "I'm having trouble with my bladder."
  He told me in a bored monotone that I was going into labor. 
  "No, no. I have another month. It's my bladder." 
  He rolled his eyes and sent me upstairs. From there I was monitored and within a short time informed that I would be giving birth that night or the next day. It wasn't my bladder. My water had broken and was slowly trickling out. Pure panic set in off both of us. We didn't have anything we needed. It was too late to call relatives back in WV to notify them of the baby coming early. 
  The rest was a long day of pain, followed by drugs for the pain. (Natural is not in my vocabulary.) Bob's dad was watching the contractions spike on the monitor. 
  "Look, Bob, she must be having a contraction. Look at that spike!" 
  I never show my pain, so I was absolutely still throughout the horrendous pain. And, luckily I didn't injure my father-in-law, haha. Eventually, I got my epidural and life was good. When it came time, I remember Bob and I holding hands and crying. We were scared and excited. The next thing I knew, the room was being transformed into the batcave. Cabinets turned into monitors. Cables and cords came from out of nowhere. I was being told to push. I laughed because I couldn't feel anything, how could I push? But, I did and out he came, red as a hot dog and peeing on the nurse. 
  Then, I heard the most dreaded sentence-" Ok, we're going to stitch you up now." This was followed by a night with an ice pack pad. That's shit you never forget. 
  Now, I have this soon to be ten year old boy. He's my best friend and my absolute reason for living. I can't get over the fact that we created him. He lived in my belly. We did one thing right. One perfect thing, in fact. Then, I cry because I remember Bob can't see him turn ten. It doesn't feel right that he misses this moment. But, it doesn't change the fact that he's gone. So, I celebrate this upcoming day with him wherever he may be. Our little guy is growing up fast, Bob. We did a great job.