It’s Sunday, almost noon. My son and husband are doing what they do best at this time of day when together and napping the suns rays away. Having finished the last of the “urgent” piled sewing, I free to wait for them to wake, sip a coffee and reflect on how this may well be the last day spent just like this, the three of us.
Sometimes when you focus on something intently with a purpose, it’s truly hard, impossible even, to see the real intent of the purpose you’re trying to find. Over the past few months as we’ve mulled over the birth of this Bump to become a Babe, not once had G ever focused conversation on himself, it was always my feelings, my reflections, the experience I’d had and the one I hoped now to achieve. Last Sunday – yes! two weeks on a row we’ve had him home with us! – when they napped, I lay down to join them, savouring the murmurings of their sleep. As my eyes closed themselves, two flashes passed behind my lids and changed the purpose of my intent forever with more clarity than any doctor, any study, any researched report could possibly ever have done.
As M slept, tucked into the nook of his Baba’s back, so peaceful and together, my minds eye took me back to G’s face on the day M was born. I flashed rapidly from the joyous excitement as we climbed into the car, empty car seat waiting inside, from the ridiculously overpriced tost and juice we’d grabbed so quickly en route there and the traffic jam we were caught up in after. I saw the smiles on our faces as we came blew up the pilates ball and I unhooked the monitor registering strong, timely contractions. And then I saw the panic on the nurses face as she pushed me down on the bed, pulling the oxygen mask onto my face; I felt the adrenalin overtake the whole room as the monitor flatlined and our baby’s heartbeat disappeared. And the last image that flashed as I lay there last week, was the fear on G’s face as they whisked me away; fear he’d lost his baby, fear he might lose his wife. In that instant my intent and my purpose combined – even the smallest of risks of ever having to say bye, is not a risk I am willing to take.
It’s injection time soon – the last carton of Clexane I’ll need to use – through every stage pre-conception until now, we’ve followed order of medication, and instinct of feeling to mould this Bump into a Baby inside our arms. Now’s the time to see it all through, make sure the ending is as well-prepped as the beginning and our journey’s next stage starts happily. So now while they sleep, I run through our check list in my mind for tomorrow – the day we’ll tell our doctor we’ve changed our minds, that we’re opting for a caesarean and for the first time this pregnancy, I feel at ease with our decision for this birth, I have no doubts now that this choice is the right one. I’m M’s Mum, I’m G’s wife and I intend to be here to be Bump’s Mum for many a year more to come, inshallah.