Friday June 29th, 2007

“Big Ali, your wife is on the phone.” I have been chewed out by bosses before, worked at a company that was closed down, and even fired from some jobs, but those were the scariest words I ever heard at work. I was walking down the hallway at about 10 am and the receptionist was looking for me to let me know my wife was on the phone. I knew she had an appointment with the obstetrician that morning. When my wife wants to chat she leaves a message on my direct line. When she calls the receptionist it’s because she needs to speak and needs to speak now. With ice running through my veins I walk to the front desk. This isn’t happening again. Maybe she was calling because it was twins. Maybe she felt the baby kick for the first time. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world. After her first sentence on the phone, I knew it was the end of the world.

I let my boss know the particulars and run out of the office to get to Ormond hospital. I have to call several people. I let her parents know the situation. She hasn’t even let her job know she was going to the doctor. Now I have to let them know that she is out for the duration of the pregnancy – however long that is. I drive to the hospital in a haze, crying some but I have to get there. I get to the admission area and she is sitting on a chair. I ask her to relate the story again. I ask for the doctor’s exact words hoping there’s something she’s overreacting to. In my fear it probably comes across as an interrogation. Did the doctor say you should come to the hospital or that you must? Was he reading off of a chart the results of a test, and if so did he get the charts mixed up? Did he mean admitted to the hospital or just run some tests? Every answer is the worst. My wife is sitting there as scared as I am. It would be her last time sitting for 11 days.

After finally getting the hospital room, she gets in bed and we wait. We don’t know what’s happening or why it’s happening to us, but all that matters is that she is going to lose the baby. She ate right (for a pregnant woman with cravings), no drugs, no drinking, some exercise, we even took vitamins. I even got her a step stool so she can get into bed easier. She switched to soy milk because the dairy gave her gas once and she didn’t want to hurt the baby. We’re not mad, just scared. Afraid of what will happen, afraid of what we did wrong, afraid of the past. When her mother arrives, we are still afraid. When her doctor arrives, we finally learn why.

Imagine the womb as a giant water balloon. Now pinch your fingers over the nozzle to keep the water in the balloon. For most of us that isn’t a problem. Now imagine you have the hands of an 80 year old with arthritis. You won’t be able to keep the water in there for long. Her cervix is starting to open. There are no exercises to strengthen the cervix. No stretches. No vitamins. No therapy. Usually it works. This time it doesn’t. The Internet will tell you that there is a very easy cure for it. Just stitch it closed. A procedure done in the doctors office with local anesthetic that usually takes less time than a circumcision. What the Internet won’t tell you is that it must be done in the 1st trimester. You can’t stitch it closed when it is already 4 cm open. Most women with the problem find out the way that we are finding out.

In the past whenever I visit a doctor, they are always optimists. Nothing is ever seriously wrong. If you hurt, it’s an infection to be cured with antibiotics. Joint sprain? Take a couple of days off and you’ll be fine. Our doctor tells me in the hallway out of earshot that my wife won’t be pregnant Monday morning. It’s now Friday afternoon. I explain that it’s a good thing we are in a hospital because I have heard that some NICUs can save extremely premature babies. I think this doctor is starting to take joy in giving me bad news. It turns out that there are 3 different levels of NICU. Level 3 isn’t even a NICU so much as a nursery. They offer very moderate support to babies. Level 2 NICUs can take babies as young as 27 weeks or so, but rarely have the equipment for any earlier. We need a level 1 NICU. That’s a hospital that takes the sickest of the sick and make an attempt to save them. I would later find out that they are not as successful as I would like when it comes to preemies.

I ask the doctor is there anything that can be done. He says that right now the baby is growing and putting pressure on the cervix. The growing can’t and shouldn’t be stopped, but if they can keep the legs elevated above the rest of the body some of the pressure will be taken off of the cervix. Not only will my wife literally not be allowed to get out of bed for the rest of the pregnancy, but it will be spent lying at an incline with her head at the bottom looking up at her feet. Oh, and by the way, it will probably be ultimately futile. Have a nice weekend.

By this time she is well situated in the bed with her parents there. I lie and say that I am running down to the cafeteria and will be back in 30 minutes. In truth, I am going to cry in private. I find an unused smokers bench at the side of the hospital and let loose. I cry as I haven’t cried in at least 10 years. At that time and place, I began mourning the son I would never know. I mourn the diapers that wouldn’t be changed. I mourn the bike that wouldn’t be ridden. I mourn … wait a minute, is this person really coming to take a smoke! I am having a friggin breakdown here and being in front of a hospital a reasonable person can assume that it’s for a bad reason. I know that smokers need to smoke, but if you are a hospital patient, maybe you can take a day off. Even if you can’t, I am clearly in the mood to be left alone. Go somewhere else! I was in no mood to fight, but I really wished ill towards this woman.

I wasn’t ashamed to cry in front of my wife. I had done it previously and would do it many more times during the coming summer. I think it takes more strength to be vulnerable than to hide your feelings with your spouse. I was ashamed because of why I was crying. My wife was afraid – scared to death. I wasn’t scared because I knew what was going to happen. I knew that she was going to try and hold on as long as possible, and that I wanted her to try, but I just knew she would fail. It wasn’t her fault, but no one who was 4cm dilated in the 21st week of pregnancy could deliver a viable baby. She was going to attempt the impossible and there was no way that she would ever find out that I didn’t believe in her. She won’t know that I felt that way until she reads these words.

I make my way back upstairs to be the husband. My wife is at her most vulnerable and I can’t take any more time for myself. She needs me more than she has ever needed me and if I have to skip lunch so be it. She is talking with her mother and her father has arrived by now. The best way to be there for my wife right now is to leave. Our life is getting ready to change in ways that we aren’t in anyway prepared for. First up, I have to go home.

We have two little dogs at home. I don’t know what the immediate future holds for me, but it doesn’t hold a lot of time at home to tend to my dogs. I have to pack them and their stuff up. They won’t be home again for two weeks. My wife left work for a short appointment and never expected to stay overnight. Now, I have to pack the overnight hospital bag. Had someone told me a day earlier that it was time to pack an overnight bag at the end of 21 weeks, I would have said it was too soon. Today it was too late. I was supposed to have a list of things to read from. It was supposed to be the two of us spending a Sunday afternoon joking about underwear and maternity pants. It was supposed to have some sort of clothes for a baby. I do my best to grab a mix of maternity and not maternity clothes and toiletries. I also pack a knapsack for myself and I’m out of the house in 30 minutes.

When I get to my parents house I unload the dogs. My parents like my dogs, but they are little dogs who stand less than 12 inches at the shoulder. They easily and willingly get lost in their house at times. However, there is no doubt that they will watch the dogs now. The hard part was telling my father why I was bringing the dogs over. My father has always been willing to do for me. Whenever I needed help, he was there. As a teenager he once offered to spend 50 bucks on a bowling ball that I didn’t ask for because all of my friends had one. I know that when I was an adolescent he made sure that I never wanted for anything even when it was hard for him to provide. He has always been a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. This was a seminal moment in my life and he could do nothing. Reassurance? Fruitless. Money? Irrelevant. Ride to and from the hospital? I didn’t intend on leaving for some time. Talking? I clearly didn’t want to. I was going to endure one of the toughest periods of my life and he couldn’t do anything . He said a few words that I don’t remember and I was on my way back to the hospital.

Soon we were in the room alone just the two of us (or did it count as three of us?). My in laws were gone, it was after dark and we would have no more visitors that day. When something like this happens, you are in an unusual position. You have a million things you want to say, and you have nothing to say. Of course is the standard reassurances. Also, the professions of love. What else? We’ve been married long enough to know what we are feeling and how we deal with it. We’re both afraid, and I’m usually a pacer. However, that would just remind her she can’t get up. You can only ask the nurses for so many pitchers of water and blankets before you’re good to go. I eventually find the snack room where they have free juice and coffee for the dads. I even unpack the clothes and put them in the drawer. We eventually just hold hands until she drifts off to sleep