I AM A MIRACLE
September 9., 2019
I came about from an emergency D&C operation. The first thing that hit me was the vision of losing my son. The exact moment I saw him when I was in the bathroom and the panic that I felt during that time.
Too weak and my body too heavy, I still managed to cry.
While being cleaned up, they have put in 4 sets of medicated plasters inside of me to help stop the bleeding. The placenta was out and bleeding has gradually stopped, and I am to be transferred to the recovery room to be observed for an hour or two.
The strong smell of the sterile room is what I remember most of the operation. When I came to, I saw there were still plenty of people wearing gloves, masks, and hair caps. I looked around for a pair of familiar eyes, but my doctor has left to speak with my husband. I did not know then that Dr. Fem went out to the waiting area to show Bjorn to his daddy before they will put him in a container.
Finally transferred to the recovery room, there were 2 tables set up on each side of me. They have hooked me on 2 IVs on both hands. One for the anti-biotics, the other, for blood transfusion. They have started the transfusion. I looked up and saw the big “O POSITIVE” label on the bag. I can hear them discussing my “case”. I was wide awake this time when my anesthesiologist came to me and said: “As soon as you stabilize and can raise both your legs, they will transfer you to your room.”
I could feel my hands starting to burn. Like a razor is being cut deep into my skin slowly through where my IV was at. I called for the nurse and told her I was in pain. I was also having a lot of contractions. They have given me medication that will help my uterus contract, and at that time, the contractions have not stopped. So when the nurse asked what hurt, I was not sure what to tell her.
To take in someone’s blood is to take in someone’s life. And the price for it is going through extreme pain when their blood enters your veins. A life for a life, I thought. It was excruciating. But I knew the moment I was asked to rate my pain from 1-10, I internally gave it a hundred because not one of the physical pains I experienced, could top the pain of losing my son.
“You got lucky your placenta separated. It got stuck at the mouth of your cervix for a while and we had to completely remove it…” My doctor started to explain what happened but I do not remember the rest of it anymore. I only know feeling terribly unlucky at that exact moment.
I am a miracle. I know that. I have been told multiple times that I am. This might be my second life. However, this is also the third year I have experienced loss. I lost my father to cancer a year ago. I lost my mom to cancer too a year before I lost my father. And now this.
HOW IN THE WORLD CAN THIS BE LUCKY?
This time, I was crying uncontrollably. My nurse explained to me that the physical pain I felt was normal. I just told her I want to be with my husband and to transfer me to my room. They refused and asked if I could move my legs. I did the best I could to move both legs, yet still, they let me stay in the recovery room a little bit longer.
They brought in a plastic bottle. About 7 inches in diameter, covered in bond paper. But it was not covered all the way to the bottom so I saw 2 little feet peeking through the uncovered part of the bottle.
My baby Bjorn… INSIDE A BOTTLE. Like he was some kind of experiment I had to witness, with me right there unable to move, unable to reach out, & in extreme pain. I cried some more and this time with the realization that I am never going to cradle this baby ever.
If this is the miracle given to me, I accept. But I refuse to say that it did not hurt nor would I admit that I was fully grateful at that time for being given a second shot at life. I only wanted my baby. I ONLY WANTED BJORN. I only wanted him to be my miracle. But it was too late. It was his life or mine. And God has chosen to give this miracle to me instead.
