The first week after leaving hospital was emotional for me on so many different levels. There were many days when my mom and I were home alone whilst the men went to work.
It was on one of these days that I got yet another scare. My mom and I were in the lounge trying to get a fire going when suddenly something just didn’t feel right. I felt wet and like my clothes was wet but didn’t understand why. I soon found out when I looked down only to find my clothes covered in blood. I immediately began to panic; my mind racing in different directions.
I remember thinking that I couldn’t die because my daughter needed me. I was wondering how I would get to the hospital since there was no one at home to drive. I began wondering whether or not my medical aid would cover an ambulance and if so how did we get one. I started thinking about what would happen if I had to go back to hospital. would I be able to see more of my daughter or not see her at all. how would my family split visiting times. Did I have to go back into surgery.
Thankfully my mom was there to calm me down and help with a plan of action. she sent me to wash while she phoned my gynae to let her know what happened and find out what needed to be done. Thankfully it was no where near as bad as I thought. All we needed to do was put on clean dressings and keep it clean until I went for my check up a few days later. My mind had automatically gone to the worst case scenario. Our days at home were filled with my mother and I each telling the other that she needed to rest so that she could heal and me not wanting to because I didn’t want to be dependent but that day had been a wake up call for me. So started a month filled with trips to the hospital not only to visit my daughter but also to have myself seen to.
Seeing my daughter again after my scare made that longing to hold her that much stronger. All I could do was sit alongside her incubator, gathering up pictures and videos to carry me through those long lonely days and nights without her at home. I took solace in that and watching how active she was despite the many wires and tubes surrounding her. It brought me a kind of peace. I hated having to tear myself away from her at the end of each day. I cherished going to see my daughter even if only for 5 minutes. I took joy in every little thing she did.
I was so torn when visiting her with others because I didn’t want to short change anyone but I also so much longed to see her. I wanted to do right by everyone else whilst my heart was aching to spend more time by her side. I anxiously waited for the day when I could drive around and go visit on my own. For me those days couldn’t come soon enough.
I always had this habit of wanting to keep everyone happy often to my own detriment and this was another one of this situations. whilst trying to make everything easier for everyone else and trying to see to their needs and satisfaction I was digging myself deeper and deeper into this pit filled with feelings of failure and depression. I felt as though I had failed on so many levels as a mother, wife and daughter. Each time someone spoke about how difficult it was for them etc I felt guilty and the words I heard were, “it’s your fault”. I battled to remind myself each time that there was nothing I could do to change the situation. With this I drew more into myself distancing myself from the ones I needed most. My biggest coping mechanism was focusing on being grateful that we had indeed survived and celebrating her many milestones.
I had decided before her birth that I would go silent on social media and communication in general to give myself a chance to absorb it all first. So exactly a week after giving birth I finally announced to all that I had indeed given birth and some of the details about what had happened. The response I received had been overwhelming and in some way comforting and calming as well. Many people encouraged me and offered messages of support. I sat reading the messages with tears of gratitude
Love is a Journey worth the wait 