I will never forget the day we temporarily moved into the room at the hospital’s special care unit where our boys were born. I was home packing some basic stuff for us and knew that we would not come back soon. The senior midwife at the hospital told me earlier on that the boys would need to put on some weight and be able to eat on their own in order to be discharged as at the time they were still being fed by feeding tubes.
I got to our room around noon and as soon as I got there a huge load of anxiety hit me straight to the pit of the stomach. The reason was due to how small the room was and my anxiety which I get when appearing in small or limited spaces. I say more about the events prior to this day in the post My birth story.
Everything began on April 27th, 2016 in the afternoon. I was home, as usual, Yaw was still at work and then planned to go with colleagues for one quick beer (in this case it was supposed to be really a quick one:). He called me something after six to assure I was ok. He told me the bar they were going to had no signal, but that he would be at home around eight.
A few minutes after his call I went to the toilet and immediately felt that something was flowing in streams out of me. But it was not a broken water, it was blood! (I am sorry, I’d tried to describe it less explicitly, but no compromise euphemism exists here:).
Since I’d happened to find myself in a similar situation on a New Year’s Eve, I did not freak out as you do when something like this happens for the first time. Taken the circumstances, I tried to keep a cool head and get Yaw. However, his phone was no longer available… I laughed at the irony in my mind. Any other day he goes home straight after work, and this must happen just when he went out for a while… I quickly sent him a text and asked him to hurry to the hospital and hoped he’d find it in time. I confusedly began to browse through the hospital papers and searched for the ‘right’ number. Then it was all a blur how quickly the process went.
They say that the first and third trimesters are the most difficult. I am talking about the difficulties of the first trimester in the post First Trimester. As for the third trimester, yes, it is difficult. Although in a completely different way than the first. My third and last trimester was definitely the longest, although it lasted less than two months. Let’s take it from the beginning.
In the second trimester, I started to sense a connection with other mums. It was as if I had entered another parallel world that is accessible and understandable exclusively by mothers. And I hadn’t left it since. Never before had I been given an option to take a look into this world, therefore it was as if a gate to a different galaxy opened in front of me. Previously, when my eyes met another mum’s eyes, I didn’t feel anything special. Maybe just the realisation of how different lives we had lived. However, when my eyes meet another mum’s eyes now, I sense a strong connection and an exchange of a secret signal, that says: “We know… :)”. We know we both belong to that mysterious club.
I can’t count how many times before picturing the moment when two lines appear on the pregnancy test … I was expecting it to be the most joyful moment in my life. However, the reality…?
I am not saying that moment was not joyful, even with the suspicion and the fact that it was not an “accident”, it was still a huge shock (in a positive way). For a few minutes, I was just looking at the two lines without belief. My head was spinning, my hands were shaking and I literally didn’t know what to think and feel. How big the difference compared to the imagination! Almost immediately I sensed a new sweet-bitter feeling and started to realise that my previous life was “over” (that, for instance, had never occurred in the imagination). How can one feel in a second they know their life will change forever? It is both emotional and physical shock. For a moment I just breathed deeply and waited for what was going to happen. After the initial shock, I felt a glimpse of joy which quickly switched to panic and for a while, all this was stirring inside of me like in the palms of the skilled baker.
I met Yaw when I was going through one of the most difficult times of my life. My first marriage had been falling apart and I had been on the verge of a mental breakdown.
I’d suffered from panic attacks, anxiety, depression… Who has experienced it, knows how hard it is to get up every morning and force yourself to live a life that is more or less normal and in absolute conflict with everything you feel within yourself.
Yaw and I had seen each other more or less sporadically, most of the time within some social event. At that time it wouldn’t ever come to my mind that he’d be the future father of my children. Not just because of what I was going through at that time, but although I always found Yaw a great man, I’d never thought of him in ‘that’ way. Until that day which started like any other day but in the end turned my life by 180 degrees. It happened when I was a couple of months after the divorce and it was totally unexpected, but it instantly clicked in the right places and I understood very soon that he was the One.