Today was Sabrina’s almost birthday. Four years ago, I’d been shivering my way through a week of weird spiky fevers that I could only combat with Tylenol since I was pregnant, and finally, enough was enough. I had to call Chris to come home from work to drive me to the OB to figure out what in the world was going on. It didn’t take long from there before I was ushered into a hospital room, quizzed by who know how many doctors, taken for X-rays that hopefully wouldn’t harm the baby (!!), and administered the sweet nectar of Demerol. This team of (well-paid) (by me) medical professionals came to the conclusion that I had one heckuva kidney infection and blockage, the origin of which they couldn’t quite ascertain because to the baby. I rolled with everything they told me, including the surgery that I’d need to relieve some of the problem and the minimal-to-complete-lack-of anesthesia I’d have due to said gestational status, until they mentioned that all of this intervention could cause my child to be born that night. Ten weeks early. And then I lost it.
But only for a little bit, because the control freak in me took over and decided that there was no way that was going to happen, not on my watch, and I’d hold that baby inside for the next 2 ½ months if I had to MacGyver some truss mechanism out of kitchen twine and chewing gum (not really, but remember the Demerol). And so I went into that operating room, and let them insert instruments into my kidney with just a local numbing shot. I gritted my teeth and prayed. (So did a LOT of people.) And my baby was not born that night. And not for the next 65 nights. Not until the originally agreed upon by my OB and myself date.
While I’m sure my village and I could have taken care of a preemie Sabrina, I am so glad that that is one challenge we didn’t have to take on. Sabrina is our wonderful, crazy tornado of freaky cleverness and supreme adorableness because she arrived when she needed to arrive, and not because some wayward internal organ tried to change her schedule. But I will never forget what almost happened. Thank you Goa, thank you doctors, thank you family, thank you army of pray-ers and thought senders. You all made this day an almost instead of an is.
(By the way, that kidney blockage they couldn’t indentify because of the baby WAS the baby. Little stink. Shoulda known.)