Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Memories of That Day

Can I talk about this again?  Every month this past year as the 28th has come around again the memories would resurface.  I would let them in, almost embracing them, soaking in as many of the little details from that day as I could.  As the months ticked by I looked toward the year mark with some trepidation, some anticipation.  I wondered what the memories would do to me on that day.  And each month as I let the memories in I thought that maybe, on one of them I would be able to let them out again.  But month after month I never did, just tucking them back in to my heart and keeping them safe for the next month.

I think it's time now, though.  I have held on to them long enough and I am ready to be free of them.  I am ready to release myself from all the tiny moments that added up and became the whole day, a day that has haunted me this past year.

I had been in the hospital about a week and a half prior because there were some "things" they were "concerned" about.  After sitting in the hospital for three hours I was told I could go home because everything looked great after all and everything was fine.

I had an ultrasound about a week earlier because my midwife was worried that "things" didn't "feel" right and maybe the baby wasn't in the right position.  An ultrasound showed that while baby was slightly lopsided at an angle, she looked good and everything was fine.

So they told me. So they kept telling me.

We had a lot of plans for that day, two days before my official due date.  My mom was in town visiting, waiting to help me after the baby came.  My grandpa had come with her and he had kept himself busy knitting warm socks for all of us.

My mom had discovered that we hadn't seen Frozen yet, and so we hatched a plan.  It was Hallie's early release day from school, and a few hours after that I had an appointment with the midwife.  We were going to get Hallie from school, go to the movie, get ice cream, go to my appointment, and then come home.  A really great afternoon with my girls, one that I was looking forward to because I knew that afternoons like that wouldn't be happening again for a while after the baby came.

I showered that morning, and dressed in my favorite outfit.  I wore a grey maternity sweater that I have since given to my now pregnant sister, and it makes me happy and wistful and sad when I see her wear it.  I love that sweater.

And then Hanna began throwing up.  I remember the morning dragged on, one of those slow quiet mornings where all the workings of the world seems to whisper so as not to disturb.  I think I've mentioned this part before, Grandpa knitting little socks on the couch, Hanna curled up sleeping, sick next to him.  Heather asleep in her crib upstairs not knowing or understanding that her tenure as the baby of the family was swiftly drawing to a close.  My mom sat on the couch by me, as I rested uncomfortably on the couch dreaming about how great it would feel when my body was my own again.  My mom and I discussed what our new plans should be, surely we shouldn't go to the movie with Hanna so sick, but how to best rearrange the plans?

With no clear new plan in sight my mom got up to get Hallie from school for me, and I continue laying on the couch drifting in and out of sleep.  I remember a contraction that startled me because it was so sudden and strong.  Then another one.

My mom came back from getting Hallie and I remember she stood in the kitchen looking at all of us collected in the living room.  I lifted my head up and said, "Hi Hallie! How was school today?" and we chatted for a minute before I dropped my head back down and wandered back into oblivion.

Another contraction, and I mentioned it to my mom and that things were starting to feel a little fierce.  I asked her if I should call my midwife or just wait until my appointment.  It had only been about twenty minutes but I remember telling her they were quite intense.  Normally it would have been harder for my mom to talk me into calling Devin home from work and calling the midwife, but I guess deep down I knew it wasn't the time to fuss.  As we began to collect my hospital bag and shoes I remember realizing that I was transitioning.  It was happening, and it was happening fast.

This is long, so maybe I'll make a part two.  I guess most of these memories are ones that I have already shared, but it feels good to me to let them go, one final time.

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