All is well

On Valentine's Day 2011, my husband took me to see my OB/GYN. This was a Monday and I had been really sick during the weekend. Fever, coughing, throwing up and generally feeling like shit. My husband was also sick and our 3 year old son as well. I figured we just all had the flu, but my doctor wanted me to come in to check if I had strep throat. I was almost 35 weeks pregnant with my daughter at that point in time.

I sat on the examination table while my doctor examined me. My husband and son were in the room with us. My doctor told me that I had pneumonia and that I was dehydrated and that he would have to admit me into the hospital. This stunned me, I knew I was sick but I didn't think I was ''hospital'' sick. So I asked the doctor how long he thought I would have to stay in the hospital. He told me two days.

I had been so worried about how my son was going to deal with me being gone for 48 hours when the baby came and now I worried even more about him seeing me in a hospital bed, I didn't like it, but I couldn't do anything about it.

We went through to admissions and they sat me in a wheel chair, the admission process took a long time. I got a room and had to put on a hospital gown. My son did not like seeing me like that, neither did I. I was then wheeled to get an x-ray of my lungs.

This was a new hospital and we were supposed to go on a tour that preceding Saturday, but had to cancel because we were all sick. Being wheeled in a wheel chair through countless hallways was not how I pictured touring the new hospital where I would deliver my baby.

The x-ray technician covered my belly so the baby wouldn't get zapped with too many rays, and took an x-ray of my lungs. My husband and son waited outside. I was then wheeled back into my room.

My son had an appointment with his pediatrician so my husband had to leave to take him there. I asked him to get me some things from home, a book to read and some underwear. I think I watched TV while I waited for them to come back.  When they came back, my son did not want to be there, he kept saying ''drive home''. So I asked my husband to take him home, I didn't want to make him stay with me in the hospital.

The next thing I remember is that it's the following day, Tuesday February the 15th, it's evening, and I'm being rolled along the hallways again, but this time I'm in the hospital bed. I see the lights whooshing by me in the ceiling. I don't remember having talked with any doctors but I know that I'm being taken into surgery and that I'm going to be having an emergency c-section. I am all right in this knowledge and am surprised how calm I am and wonder if they have given me that medication that makes you kind of not care about what's happening or not.

To be continued...