Wishing, and Hoping...

What a day we had yesterday. Steve’s birthday was certainly not-uneventful. On Monday, my school hosted “English Day,” a fun-filled, action-packed day full of cultural events, games and activities. It was crazy busy and even today, two days later, my legs are virtually stale-mated as it was certainly the closest I’ll get to a marathon at 7 months. It was very successful and very tiring and truth be told, while I was thinking of Baby all day, I didn’t really notice during those 9 hours that he/she hadn’t been kicking. I did notice, however, on the way home, as my chest began to pain, at dinner and all night long while I waited for him/her to give me a reason to be awake. But nothing. Around 1:00am on Tuesday, I started getting worried. I wanted to wake Steve up, but I thought, what kind of a birthday present is that? Instead, I tossed and turned silently all through the night. Sometimes I’d get up to jiggle, sometimes to try to eat something, but the only movement I felt was a body moving because mine did. When Steve woke up around 5, I wished him a happy birthday but my eyes were already welling with tears and I had to tell him why I was upset. I went to school as usual and asked a friend with a 1 year old whether these 36 hours without motion were normal. She suggested I put some ice on my tummy as that had once made a difference for her. There I sat, in the middle of the teachers’ room, the ice melting at record speed as I am always 5 degrees warmer than the average person, it seems, but no kicks. A small crowd of teachers gathered around, all wishing for baby to strike a pose and my heart, which had been looking for reassurance trembled a little more as I looked into the eyes of these kind new friends. Jason said this happened to his baby that he lost and I had to see a doctor. Cristina wiped the puddle of water from the floor beneath me. Monica had tears in her eyes. Beatriz stroked my back and Gabby just called for someone to take me to the hospital. I was shocked at how afraid they all were, and obviously it made me very emotional. That said, then and there, no sooner had I finished my 1.5 hour journey down the dirt path was I going back the other way. Dolly, a kind teacher with a car, drove me the nearly 2 hours to the clinic where my doctor said to go to Emergencies. Fortunately, it was almost empty. My blood pressure and temperature were taken and then I was taken in to the examination room where they got out the Doppler heart montitor. In what was probably the longest 2 minutes of my life, the kind doctor on call struggled and struggled, having to fetch another machine, change my position and get some assistance. Finally, very low down and to the right they found a subtle beat and my heart rejoiced. Nothing is more concerning than a look of anguish on your doctor’s face, and nothing is more beautiful than the sound of your baby’s heart. Those are two of life certainties. My eyes filled with tears all over again and I ran out to tell Dolly who was waiting for me. They then set me up for a fetal monitoring, in which they attach several wires and taps to your tummy and chest to measure the heart beat, movements and possible contractions. Again, Dolly sat with me for those 30 minutes, sometimes reading me the numbers I barely understood as I had to have my back to the machine for half of the time, sometimes trying to make me laugh. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t called Steve yet, but something inside me just longed to call him with wonderful news. After all, he was the birthday boy and all my plans of making the day special for him, decorating the apartment, buying him a few token presents on the way home from school, were shot. After the monitoring, my doctor was called in from home and he sat with me to explain the results. Mostly I remember him saying, ‘no son normales, no estoy satisfecho’ and he said that our baby wasn’t moving and he couldn’t see why. He ordered more tests and I called Steve, guilty for maybe ruining his birthday, but desperate to have him near.

And so, another 3 hours passed. Steve arrived, Dolly left, hugs and kisses were exchanged, but still baby didn’t kick. After hours of waiting and prodding, worrying and praying, a biophysical exam revealed our baby hadn’t lost his strength and tone, as they feared, the amniotic fluid level was correct and even though he/she was still as the night, the heart, diaphragm and organs were perfect. As I have written before, there is no relief like hearing a doctor say, ‘your baby is perfect.’ Fernando doesn’t usually take it that far, perhaps it’s being a man, but our female doctor stroked my tummy and put our hearts so much at ease as she those words. So, some good news at last. We met again with Fernie who told me he could only guess that the baby was suffering from fetal exhaustion, from me working too hard, and he gave me a doctor’s ordered two days off. I am now monitoring baby’s every movement from home and have to return to see him in 2 days.

Baby did finally kick last night when we got home, and I was so grateful that in the end, I hadn’t ruined Steve’s birthday. He’d spent it with me and Baby and we were all going to be fine. As he took a shower, I sneaked out to the shop next door and found him an apple pie birthday cake (yes, strange, but absolutely his favorite) and as baby and I sung our favorite guy “Happy Birthday,” his adoring child finally danced. We were in bed early with little pomp and circumstance, but such gratitude for a day that ended okay. Baby was quiet again in the night, but I have tried to feed him/her well today, rest lots and hope to do that tomorrow. Never has the responsibility of carrying this little one seemed so great and never have I prayed harder that I will do it as well as he/she deserves. Thinking about yesterday still makes me hands tremble and heart ache, but I know baby is okay and I just have to be less selfish and more careful. A mother’s life starts here…