Tiny Treasures of Perfection from Heaven
The date is January 8, 1997. Snow flurries have been predicted in Paris, Texas. Snow is a seldom-occurring weather event in northeast Texas at any time during the year. If we actually get winter weather it is usually in the form of freezing rain. Sheets of ice fall covering everything, downing power lines creating power outages over large areas of land. The ice coats the roads creating treacherous driving conditions. It usually is more trouble than pleasue. However on this day we have a very slim chance for snow flurries. As the 8th gives way to the 9th tiny pieces of perfection began fluttering down from the heavens.
The date is January 8, 1997. Snow flurries have been predicted in Paris, Texas. Snow is a seldom-occurring weather event in northeast Texas at any time during the year. If we actually get winter weather it is usually in the form of freezing rain. Sheets of ice fall covering everything, downing power lines creating power outages over large areas of land. The ice coats the roads creating treacherous driving conditions. It usually is more trouble than pleasue. However on this day we have a very slim chance for snow flurries. As the 8th gives way to the 9th tiny pieces of perfection began fluttering down from the heavens.
I know this because I witness it live. The steady clack-clack of the windshield wipers brushing away the collection on the windshield is like a metronome keeping count to the contractions seizing my body. The beams of the headlights peering through the night reflecting white into our eyes. The streets are empty except for the occasional shine of headlights from another car as it makes its way home before the streets become to slick to drive. I hear myself cry out ‘we are not going to make it.’ In return I hear ‘we will make it, just hold on we are going to make it.’ ‘Oh God, you are going to have to deliver him yourself’ I growl through clenched teeth. I am privy to this exchange for only a moment and then the pain strikes again. ‘Oh God, it hurts!’
Why is this so different from the first? It only started a half an hour ago and I can feel him crowning. This labor has intensified so much faster than my first child. I lay in the seat writhing in pain. I am so very afraid we will not make it to the hospital. We live only twenty minutes from the hospital, but with this weather. This beautiful phenomenon falling from above, the drive takes much longer tonight making it feel like an eternity. Flying down the streets I fear something bad will happen and we will not make it to the hospital. If that happens we may lose our son.
Two weeks prior we made a similar run to the hospital. We were sent home with the notion that it was false labor. While at that visit a sonogram was performed. During the sonogram the baby’s breathing should be visible at least twice. Once we completed the sonogram we were informed that we would have to do another one because they did not see our baby breathe. So another is performed. Only one breath is noted. Due to his size and positioning they determine that everything is fine and they send us home. So tonight we are making our way back to the hospital. Due to the fact that we are beyond the due date we were scheduled to come in at 6 am to induce labor. It seems that is no longer a necessity.
As we pull into the emergency room I look outside my car window and a man is already there with a wheelchair. I struggle to get into the chair. The man tells my husband to park the car, he also tells him that I cannot wait and to meet me in Labor and Delivery. As we are passing through the emergency room I see a care flight crew at the desk completing paperwork for a patient they have come to pick up. As I have worked in the emergency room and as an emergency medical technician with the local ambulance service, I am familiar with the blue jumpsuits and the orange and white patches. The care flight crew is utilized in critical situations to transport by air patients from smaller rural hospitals to larger big city hospitals where the patient can receive more intense treatment. This particular morning they are in Paris. I will never forget the words I hear as I come out of the grips of a contraction. I notice the crew is watching me. I wanted to fade into the seat just be invisible. I do not want to be in need of their help. In my mind I think ‘Please don’t look at me.’ As we pass I hear one crewmember say to the other ‘We will have to come back for her.’
They did come back. Not for me but for my son.
As this is a post and there is life beyond this blog site I must make an exit at this time. I am finding this a little difficult to write about. I am sure this is greatly therapeutic but only in small doses. I will return to this topic, but for now I must tend to my son.
Sharon
Why is this so different from the first? It only started a half an hour ago and I can feel him crowning. This labor has intensified so much faster than my first child. I lay in the seat writhing in pain. I am so very afraid we will not make it to the hospital. We live only twenty minutes from the hospital, but with this weather. This beautiful phenomenon falling from above, the drive takes much longer tonight making it feel like an eternity. Flying down the streets I fear something bad will happen and we will not make it to the hospital. If that happens we may lose our son.
Two weeks prior we made a similar run to the hospital. We were sent home with the notion that it was false labor. While at that visit a sonogram was performed. During the sonogram the baby’s breathing should be visible at least twice. Once we completed the sonogram we were informed that we would have to do another one because they did not see our baby breathe. So another is performed. Only one breath is noted. Due to his size and positioning they determine that everything is fine and they send us home. So tonight we are making our way back to the hospital. Due to the fact that we are beyond the due date we were scheduled to come in at 6 am to induce labor. It seems that is no longer a necessity.
As we pull into the emergency room I look outside my car window and a man is already there with a wheelchair. I struggle to get into the chair. The man tells my husband to park the car, he also tells him that I cannot wait and to meet me in Labor and Delivery. As we are passing through the emergency room I see a care flight crew at the desk completing paperwork for a patient they have come to pick up. As I have worked in the emergency room and as an emergency medical technician with the local ambulance service, I am familiar with the blue jumpsuits and the orange and white patches. The care flight crew is utilized in critical situations to transport by air patients from smaller rural hospitals to larger big city hospitals where the patient can receive more intense treatment. This particular morning they are in Paris. I will never forget the words I hear as I come out of the grips of a contraction. I notice the crew is watching me. I wanted to fade into the seat just be invisible. I do not want to be in need of their help. In my mind I think ‘Please don’t look at me.’ As we pass I hear one crewmember say to the other ‘We will have to come back for her.’
They did come back. Not for me but for my son.
As this is a post and there is life beyond this blog site I must make an exit at this time. I am finding this a little difficult to write about. I am sure this is greatly therapeutic but only in small doses. I will return to this topic, but for now I must tend to my son.
Sharon
snowflake image from Snowflakes.com
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