My guts were falling out. There couldn't be another explanation. The lower part of my abdomen felt like it had just given way; given in to gravity. There wasn't anything I could do. My womb had just fallen out of existence and the fragile life within was experiencing a turmoil I could not imagine! So I left work and rushed to the emergency room. Again.
The first time I rushed to the ER was a nightmare.
It started nine days beforehand. I had begun bleeding, and I read that the general rule was this: bleeding more than a week required an ER visit, and I had called Dr. Hill's office to make sure. I was admitted almost immediately. I was asked if I was nauseous and the answer was "No." I was asked to rate my pain on a scale of 1 - 10; I said 3. FOUR HOURS LATER a nurse came by to check my vitals. He stripped me to my skivvies and shoved a hospital gown at me. He came back TWO HOURS LATER and began to open a vein so that he could put in an IV port. Once the IV port was in he injected a needle and I asked what was in it.
"Morphine," he replied.
"You're joking," I accused.
"No," he smiled.
"Take it out," I demanded.
"No," he said.
"NOW!" I declared.
He took it out.
"When asked my pain rate, I said 3. Why did you give me Morphine?" I demanded.
"The doctor said to."
"Tell him I said 'No.'"
After a cursory sonogram, I was released, and told that I was still pregnant.
The second time I went for Emergency, I was in so much pain that I couldn't walk upright.
I left work to see someone about the pain. Here's the thing about pain: It's invisible. It's possible for some people to see that you are suffering. It isn't possible for people to see where the suffering is happening.
My pelvic bones had separated. I could feel them moving independently of each other every time I walked. The muscles of my abdominal wall had also separated, vertically. My job requires almost constant motion and I couldn't do it.
I couldn't see a way around it and I couldn't ask for help. My pride was too strong, and misplaced.
At home, tension was building. My husband found himself doing more and more housework without any contribution from me. My daughter felt the increasing irritability coming from me and she began to act out. Laundry piled up. The cats were cranky. The pain in my back, abdomen, and pelvis turned into a Gremlin.
The pressure at work took on a life of its own. I began to lash out at people who didn't deserve it.
Driving home from work one afternoon, I remembered a look...
Allan had always been a great coworker. Technically, his position was below mine; but I admired him and thought he was a good example of what a great work ethic is supposed to look like. That day, we had a strong disagreement about what our managers' schedule should look like for the next month. I behaved in a way that is inconsistent with my professional (and religious) beliefs. I was disrespectful to an ideal that was important to him. The look he gave me was incredulous, and also reproachful and disbelieving. I deserved it and I was ashamed.
For months, my pregnancy had been all about ME; and the MEness of everything. The pain, the possibility of a chromosomal abnormality, the sleeplessness... I had been thinking about it in terms of what it all meant to ME.
It wasn't about me.
It was about us.
All of us.
On the way home from work that day, the look on Allan's face wouldn't leave me alone. I realized that this experience wasn't just for whatever it meant to me. It was about everyone who's life I touched. Other people would see me and the way I dealt with this.
The very next day, it was all solidified for me. A woman I admire approached me and said, "I didn't realize all this was going on for you. My daughter had issues as an infant. It's not the same as what you're going through, but it will change you. You will be different when this is all over."
Her words stuck with me. What example is it for other people, if I go through a hard time and don't reflect the teachings of Jesus? If I struggle, yet still blame; or if I'm in pain, yet remain ungracious to the opportunities around me?
Everything we do; everything we experience... It isn't about us as individuals. It's about us as One Body. I'm Catholic and I believe in the One Body of the Church. But what about you?
No matter what you believe in... Do you believe in One Experience? The decisions I make for Elijah will effect how he interacts with society, which might effect how your children interact with my son.
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