In the middle of the night, Kennith’s cell phone rang. It was his dad calling. Kennith’s younger sister, Melanie, had died. Kennith’s dad was driving in from Gansbaai to go through to the hospital where her body had been brought it. It really was that phone call you dreaded, and it set the tone for a horrific weekend.
Kennith went through to the hospital to meet his father and his aunt. Kennith’s grandmother had some heart problems, and had not been well for the last few months. There was concern that the news of her grand-daughter’s death might bring on another heart attack, so they wanted to drive to Gansbaai to break it to her in person.
I was ill with a chest infection (for a change), bad flu and 38 weeks pregnant. I decided to drive through with Kennith to my mom who lives in Hermanus and take Connor with me. I thought I could go and sleep at my mom’s home and she could assist and look after Connor, because there was no way I could cope by myself. I also wanted to offer some support to Kennith.
My mom offered to keep Connor with her for a few days and bring him back to Cape Town the following week, to give me some time to rest as we were both looking very grim.
We got home and we absolutely zonked out for two days. On Sunday afternoon I woke up and decided to make some comfort food as we had not eaten properly in days. I was scratching for a pot and the effort had me wheezing and trying to catch my breath. Clearly I was in great shape to attempt labour!
At about 10pm I felt worse that I think I have ever felt. I also had not felt the baby move in ages and was panicking. I was struggling to breath and asked Kennith to take me to the ER as I felt that if I felt this bad, the baby could not be fine – it was not possible.
The ER doctor was great and listened for the heart beat and all was fine. He suggested I go onto a morphine drip, but there was a risk to the baby and I would need to be monitored. I decided it was too big a risk, and we went home.
The following say we had our OBGYN appointment at 12h00. I dragged myself in there feeling half dead, and really just hoping someone would pull out a gun and put me out of my miseries.
She checked the baby who was doing fine – aren’t they always, while you cling on to life with your bleeding fingers?? The baby had not dropped and I was no where near going in to labour. I really wanted to suggest a c-section but I felt so embarrassed as I had been fighting so hard for the last few months to insist on being allowed to go natural. And to ask now I felt would just be embarrassing and such a defeat – I had really kicked up a fuss to get my own way.
Kennith came to my rescue and asked “if we do a c-section – when can we do it?” The OBGYN suggested I go upstairs to the ward and have a few hours of physio to try to clear up my chest, try to sleep and we do the c-section that night.
I was so relieved that the decision had been made for me. Some times it is great to just sit back, let go of the steering wheel and let someone else drive for you.