10 Days Later: Part 2

While in the hospital I experienced a panic attack, swelling in my body, multiple IVs hurting both arms, unusual body odor and reality hitting me hard. My emotions were all over the place and I truly appreciate every nurse. However, my very first and last nurse that I had truly did something for me that no others did. With my first nurse, not only did she take a seat next to me, hold my hand and guide me through that panic attack. She also shared with me that she suffered from postpartum preeclampsia as well. She assured me that I’d be okay, that I was in good hands and that she was glad I got to the hospital when I did. I didn’t feel rushed, brushed off or anything of that nature. Those few moments with her were the most patience I felt anyone has had with me in a while and I feel like such a child saying and admitting that. 

I felt everything from anger to sadness, loneliness, and confusion. I couldn’t understand what I did wrong and couldn’t stop trying to figure it out either. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that this had never happened to me with my other children so why now? What had I done or was I doing that was so wrong that I deserved to be on that emotional rollercoaster, mentally and physically, and to just have a child and be away from her and her siblings like that? There was so much happening with my body and how it was responding to the medication, nurses walking in and out, my stomach hurting because I couldn’t eat while on the medication and all I kept thinking about was going home – and the next time that I could eat. Home was the goal and while my mind and I had agreed on that, time and I had not. But the real issue here is that getting better should’ve been the goal, my goal. Not rushing home.

I found myself watching the clock as if it were a tv and I wasn’t going home until the next day, later that next day at that. 8PM to be exact. I started to think about what I could do to avoid having to go back to the hospital. The advice given is always the simple surface things like,

  • Stay hydrated
  • Get some rest
  • Don’t do a lot of heavy lifting 
  • Ask for help if you can

But nobody gives the real, blunt advice that really matters like,

  • Stay away from people who stress you out
  • Get all the rest you can, not “some rest”
  • Find something to do daily that helps lower your blood pressure
  • Do breathing exercises
  • Don’t be so hard on yourself

     And then some.

I remember a few nurses and a doctor or two who had jokingly said, “You’re not supposed to be here” and “I hope you get better, so we don’t have to keep taking you from your kids”. Each time I heard that I just giggled but wanted to say, “You don’t think that I feel the same?” I had to be on the medication for 24 hours so it felt like forever until 8PM that Friday night hit and I COULD FINALLY EAT. I was still loopy from the medication, but I was happy to be off of it and finally filling my stomach. I had made a lot of calls while I was in the hospital. I just needed to talk to someone and due to COVID there wasn’t anyone who could be with me. So, when my last nurse came in, I felt like she was my long-lost friend. I felt like we were living the same life from two different aspects. I thought that she gave me the venting session of a lifetime but according to her she needed that conversation more than I did and I was and still am glad that I could give that to her. We literally talked about our lives and when we got on the subject of employment and I mentioned my blog, she told me that she “knows getting recognition is hard but don’t stop blogging” and to stop feeling bad about being unemployed because I’m still doing a job.

I cried a lot because I couldn’t understand why I had been having those problems at the start of that week but didn’t get there till the end of that week. To make matters worse I was told that had I not come in when I did, I could’ve had a seizure or worse. I was missing out on the first few days of my newborn’s life. I knew my other two were looking for me and my oldest did not let up on letting me know that she wanted me to “come home right now”. I was in and out of sleep, more so forcing myself to sleep hoping that it be time to go the next time I woke up. Finally, the next day came, Saturday, I pretty much watched the clock and listened to music that entire day until it was time to go. I was ecstatic to be going home but I had a new worry … I had built up fear … so much fear.

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