On Monday afternoon, I spent some time journaling and writing at the kitchen table. The house was quiet and I was grateful for some peace. My 7 and 9 year-olds were at their dad's house and the dogs were napping. I decided to take break from staring at the computer screen and went downstairs to organize my office.
I am 21 weeks pregnant with Placental Previa, which means that the baby's placenta is implanted over my cervix. The cause of this roots from my two previous c-sections and since there is scarring in the uterus after each pregnancy, the new placenta will look for unscarred tissue as a place to implant. This will often cause the placenta to implant low and in front of the uterus, instead of high and to the back (which is considered normal). The last ultrasound showed that the placenta was shifting as the baby grew and our hope was that by the next appointment, the placenta would no longer be over the cervix. This did not happen.
I was carrying a small side table up the stairs and the leg of the table hit a stair and lightly bumped my stomach. Immediately, I felt blood gushing out of my body. I started screaming for Tim, the father, and ran up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood everywhere I went. We got into the car and I was sobbing as I continuously bled everywhere in his car. Once we got to the hospital, I ran into the ER with more blood gushing out of my body. I was sure that my baby was dead and there is no way to explain the fear and the remorse running through my head.
All I had to do was walk up to the check-in desk and somehow communicate to the women there that I was 21 weeks pregnant. They looked down and saw the blood on the floor and immediately rushed me to a wheel chair. The room was full of people waiting to be seen. The looks of horror on their faces is an image that I'll never be able to get out of my mind. What I did notice was that many people also had a look of compassion with fear. It helps me to remember, that even when the people of this world act like they don't care about others, our innate tendency causes us to feel concern for others.
Today is my third day in the hospital. My baby boy is healthy and moving around with a healthy heartbeat. The concern for repeat bleeding is keeping me on bedrest and there is no promise that I will be able to get back to my normal life any time soon. This is a very uncertain and difficult thing for me to wrap my head around. How am I going to make it all function and work from my bed? As a yoga instructor, how am I going to make ends meet if I cannot physically teach? As a mother, how am I going to care for my children and get them to their activities? As a business owner, how am I going to maintain everything while I am in my bed?
Once again, I am reminded that my need to have all of my questions answered will have to wait. Patience is not my most virtuous quality and the uncertainty of not knowing (or not being able to control) what is going to happen tries to eat away at "who I am." I believe this is yet another event that is leading me to a transformation of who I thought I was and the attachment I had placed on my identity. Once again, I am reminded of the importance of trust in even this situation. The importance of knowing and understanding that everything happens as it should is key to carrying out a struggle-free and peaceful life, despite experiencing completely horrific situations.