Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, today they did. For reasons I am not ready to discuss at this stage.
But I can do this. I have the love and support of so many. I will do this! This is what I keep re-affirming to myself.
Yet, it’s 130am and I am still awake. My heart pounding, my lips dry and my head spinning. I decided to do a little Google research into the exact procedures I will be faced with this week and am slightly regretting doing so at this silly hour when I am already feeling somewhat vulnerable.
Near on all websites I have looked at refer to my procedure as an abortion or termination of an unwanted pregnancy. My heart sunk as I read those words. This is no unwanted baby. This baby was wanted with every inch of my being. And I am not aborting my baby. My baby can not and will not survive outside of my womb and I am simply aiding the inevitable in order to protect my sons’ and my wellbeing. I would give anything to make this baby healthy and be able to carry them to and deliver at full term.
As I read on with a heavy heart, I found a section about the tablet I will have to take 48 hours before induction. Mifepristone is the commonly used drug apparently. Taken orally, it stops the production of the hormones needed to sustain the baby. I felt a huge lump in my throat. A death sentence for my precious baby in pill form. But it gets better… I will have to take it at the hospital and then wait for 30 minutes to ensure I do not vomit it up. Did I mention I’m emetophobic? I have an irrational but terrifying and debilitating fear of being sick and have done since I was 17 years old. My heart began to thump. The lump in the back of my throat formed into a ball of nausea and fear, causing me to gag. My breathing increased to fast desperate gasps and my fingers began to tingle. A panic attack. If you have never had one, count your lucky stars, and if you have experienced them, you will know how crippling the fear can be; rapidly paralysing your body and leaving you with the sensation of utter helplessness and no escape. It sounds extreme, but it is. It really is. I would not wish it upon my worst enemy. Then again, I would not wish losing a child upon my worst enemy.
I was suddenly overwhelmed with thoughts of not being able to cope or go through with the procedures this week. I’m not ready to say goodbye to my baby. I’m not strong enough mentally or emotionally to get through this. What if I’m sick? What if the baby comes before the 48 hours and I can’t get myself to hospital in time? What if the baby can not be delivered? What if I retain some of the pregnancy matter and end up having to be put under general anaesthetic to remove it? What if I’m all alone when this all happens…?
Sobbing now, my precious baby boy asleep next to me woke up and asked “What’s the matter, Mummy?”
Boom! Wake up call. Pull yourself together, woman!
“Mummy has a tummy ache,” I fibbed. I kissed his forehead and made my way to the bathroom where I splashed my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror.
You can do this, I told myself. Your boys need their Mummy to be happy and strong again. You have to do this and You will do this.
As writing is such a powerful tool for me in expressing my feelings and emotions so that I am able to acknowledge and manage them as best I can, I decided to come back and write this excerpt before attempting to sleep again. I pray that I will be able to free my mind from the haunting events of today, as well as the daunting events to come this week. Instead I will focus on the here and now. Listening to my baby boys gentle snuffles and snores as he lays beside me. Running my hands through my eldest son’s hair as he peacefully dreams in his den on the other side of the room. The sounds of the night owls echoing in the sky beyond the nightlight. The soft meditation music playing on my phone. Cloud like pillows beneath my head. My health. My strength. My courage. And the beautiful life growing in the warmth beneath my hands.