Our scars make us know that our past was for real – Pride and Prejudice

Our scars make us know that our past was for real. – Pride and Prejudice.

One year ago, today – February 13th, my water broke. I was 28 weeks pregnant with my boys. Which, in the world of pProm and high-risk pregnancy, is actually a pretty good number…

Today is a day I will never forget – one that plays on repeat in my head.

If you’d like to relive this day with me – reread about it here: pProm with Twins.

Thinking back, there’s so much more I’m wishing I would have taken note of, in the fog that was trying to stay pregnant with my babies…

I wish I could remember names.

The name of my favourite nurse who would sit with me and tell me her stories about non-stress tests gone wrong, and her theories about chinooks and ruptured membranes…

The name of the nurse who was working non-stop to get me home to Calgary from Regina as soon as she could… And sought me out in labour and delivery just so she could put a face to my name…

The names of the 3 other ladies flown out of province on Feb. 14th, out of which I was the only one who stayed pregnant and returned to Calgary pregnant… We could have totally started a support group for ourselves – I picture us getting together once a year for coffee to reminisce on our experience – something that will never really happen… But I will dream about every year.

The names of my roommates – I had two during my stay… And both for less than 24 hours each:

The first, when I was admitted on Feb. 13, a mom from 2 hours south of Calgary, flown out of her home with preeclampsia… She had two little girls at home missing her. I was lucky enough to reunite with her in the NICU. She delivered her boy 4 days after I flew to Regina. She was 24 weeks pregnant.

The second, when I had returned to Calgary from Regina, a first-time mom from 2 hours north of Calgary. I know so much less about her… She had our room full of family for a few hours that day. It seemed only moments after they left that she was buzzing the nurse… practically delivering her baby boy as they tried to transport her to labour and delivery… She was only 22 weeks. They had admitted her this time after sending her home a week earlier… What I wouldn’t give to know her baby was ok… I held my belly for a long time after she left. What I wouldn’t give to hold my belly one more time…

I wish I could let all of these women know what they meant to me, how they’ve unknowingly changed me, shaped me as a mother and a woman.

Instead, I’ll settle for carrying them with me as scars on my heart.

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