Funny how a couple of months on bed rest addles your brain. Twelve years ago today, I was laying in a bed in the hospital, eating as much as I could keep down and dreaming of the lovely time I was going to have once my two angelic babies were born. A doctor (not mine) came in and announced, "We're doing a c-section in the morning!"
Tomorrow morning?! First of all, I'd already worked out with my doctor that I wanted these babies to come as naturally as possible and that didn't include any scalpels or operations on my part. Second... tomorrow? After all the excitement of flying back to the States, then getting transferred to a high-risk pregnancy hospital with a top-notch NICU, the weekly, then daily ultrasounds, the careful monitoring of both babies, the panic over their size discrepancy and some other warning signs, could tomorrow really be the day?
I didn't sleep that night. The last night without children and I couldn't sleep. Sure, I knew I needed the rest, but I was excited and scared and nervous and delighted. Besides, you can't actually stockpile sleep, can you?
I talked the unknown doctor out of the c-section, alerted the expectant grandparents, and waited for morning...
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