5:30am rolls around and I wake up to Mason doing baby gymnastics in my womb. It’s early, but I don’t mind. Every movement is precious. I rub my belly and talk to him, enjoying the quiet time together.
By 6:00am Mason has settled back to sleep, but I have given up on sleeping any more today. My mind has wandered, as it so often does, to that time in the hospital. Random things nag at me, circling in my head with no answers.
I do not want to have a c-section and I think I’ve figured out why. It is because my body will no longer be under my control. I will, for a few hours at least, be unable to walk no matter how much I want to, due to an epidural. I will be recovering from major surgery. That one thing will keep me from my son’s side for hours and ultimately days, which is nearly unbearable. I don’t want this experience of letting someone take my baby away to care for him without me. In my other births things have always been different. Before the baby is taken to the nursery I am brought a wheelchair. I go with my baby. I am there to touch them, comfort them, hold them, and talk to them. Mason won’t have that. I won’t have that.
I will spend my son’s first night, and probably his first several nights, laying in a bed in another hospital alone. I won’t be with him. I won’t have my baby snuggled up next to me during the sweet, sleepless hours when we should be sleeping but are awake instead. He won’t be alone. His daddy will go with him, stay with him at Children’s Hospital, but my arms will be empty. The doctors expect me to sit in that hospital for days with nothing to do and no baby beside me just so they can monitor my recovery from surgery. I am going to go insane.
There are all the questions about surgery, about how Mason will do, about how he’ll recover. And again, I won’t be with him for the first few days. I want to be with him. I want to be the one to talk to him, to comfort him, to hold him. I want to smell his newborn scent and touch his soft skin in wonder. I want to take care of him, to have the nurses show me what to do to care for his incision.
Once I am finally released from my hospital, or more likely, when I can stand waiting no longer and I sign myself out against medical advice, it is the smaller details that spin in my head. Where will I get food when I spend all my time by Mason’s bedside? There will be no grocery shopping for me, not that I would be up to it anyway. I will need to shower, to deal with postpartum bleeding (you still have that after a C-Section, right?), to sleep. My only plan right now is to do those things when I absolutely have to and when my husband is there to stay beside Mason.
Right now the hardest part is just the waiting, the questions spinning in my head with no answers. Once again I have to take captive my thoughts (2 Corinthians 10:5) and turn to God. I have to trust Him.
“Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”
- D&C 6:36
I pray. I read my scriptures. I feel the ‘peace which passeth understanding’ and I know that the most powerful being in the universe is mindful of me. I know that God is with me, that He knows my thoughts, my desires, and that not only will He be with me, He will be with Mason, even when I cannot be.