Amy M. Schaefer
  • Amy M. Schaefer, Writer
  • Blog: From the Front Porch
  • Novels
  • Short Stories
    • Children's Books
  • About the Author
  • Contact
  • Photo & Art Gallery

From the Front Porch

I am an "accidental blogger". When I launched my writing career in March of 2014, one of the things that I decided to include was my journaling, which I have always found to be a comforting and therapeutic endeavor.  It was a big risk to open myself up in such a public forum, but it has taught me that, for the most part, we share far more experiences than we think. It's comforting to know I'm not alone!  (*the "Button Text" is the link to my first novel)
Button Text

Double Trouble

5/9/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
"Intense love does not measure, it just gives."--Mother Teresa

In August of 1992, days into my third trimester with my first child, I was walking down the stairs to go look at new cars with my husband when I felt liquid leaking from me. I knew I hadn't peed myself, so I stood there wracking my brain at what it could be and trying not to panic. My husband came up to where I stood. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I'm leaking," I said. "Let's go call the doctor," he told me, then helped me back up the stairs and into our apartment. I sat on a kitchen chair while he phoned Dr. Bammel. When he hung up, he said, "Come on. Let's go to the hospital. Dr. Bammel is going to meet us there." I knew this was bad and rode to the ER in stoic silence. In the ER, I didn't have to wait long. An ER doctor immediately examined me, checking the baby and testing the fluid. When he pulled the specs out of me, my water broke completely, gushing onto the floor. My mind shouted, "It's too early! This can't be happening!" My doctor came in. "You're in labor but we're going to do everything we can to stop it," he calmly assured me. "It's too early," I said, nearly hysterical, my eyes filling with tears. He leaned in close and said, "Listen to me. It's my job to do the worrying and your job to take care of you. I promise, I will tell you when it's time to worry. Okay?" I nodded. The powerful drugs they gave me to stop the labor made my heartbeat irregular and my entire body shake, but I didn't care about any of that as long as they saved my baby. Late into the second night, a hospital chaplain came to speak with me. "How can I help?" he asked. "Pray," I whispered. He took my hands and we prayed together. Once the danger had passed, I was moved up to the ward for problem pregnancies where I remained for twelve days, unable to get out of bed for any reason, unable to do much of anything but think, wonder, and worry.

On the day little Hannah Marie was born, I only got to touch her for a moment before she was whisked away by teams of specialists to the NICU for the fight of her life. The first time I got to hold her she was so tiny she didn't look real. Leaving her at the hospital for a month was agony. I would go home after visiting her and cry myself to sleep. When she was finally able to come home, I was overjoyed. By then she was 4 lbs. 7 ozs. of cutie and I could not get enough of holding her, smelling her, touching her soft skin, or just watching her sleep. The doctors were confident that she was going to be O.K., but even they were amazed at her progress as she thrived. When she was eight weeks old, I found out I was pregnant again!

I told myself not to be afraid of having another baby, but I didn't want to get attached to it, get my hopes up that all would be well the second time, in case it wasn't. On a snowy night in January of 1993, I began leaking again. My husband left our little one with a neighbor and rushed me to the ER, where the news was grim. "You have bulging membranes, Mrs. Schaefer (I had no idea what that meant)," the ER doc told us. "You'll probably miscarry the baby in the next 24 hours." I hugged my husband and told him to go home and be with our Hannah. I knew he didn't want to leave me to face the next hours alone, but he did it anyway to reassure me he was watching over our little preemie. They moved me back up to the problem pregnancy floor and I waited for the unthinkable to come. The nurse told me to try and sleep, but that was impossible. At 2 am I called my father. I stood at the window in the dark watching big, fat flakes of snow falling and asked him, "Why is this happening to me, Daddy?" "I don't know, honey, but it's going to be ok," he promised. "How do you know?" I wanted to know. "I just do," he said. "Okay," I responded and took a deep breath. "Okay," I repeated, allowing myself a sliver of hope. We hung up and for a little while, I slept. Early in the morning, Dr. Bammel showed up. "You just want to be difficult, young lady," he said, smiling. "Let's go have a look at that baby," he told me. I nodded and we went to the sonogram room. There she was safe and sound in my womb (although we didn't know it was a she at the time). "See," he said, "this baby is just fine." I couldn't take my eyes off of her as we watched her calmly sucking her little thumb. I feel utterly in love with her that day. Sarah Arden not only went to term, she was born a week late and I was so happy to see her little pink, healthy self, I didn't let her out of my sight for long.

Twenty-something years of mothering those girls has been a joy, even when it was difficult. Being a mother is the single most important thing I've done, will ever do in my life. My girls are a gift to the world and I hope they know what an honor it is for me to be their mom.

*Image from brewercoinc.com



0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    About The Author

    I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter.

    Since then, I have learned to reach well beyond what I ever dared to think was possible. I've learned not to allow fear to stop me from whatever future I want to create!

    What keeps me grounded? My Tribe! What provides the wind beneath my wings? A well of reserves filled with unstoppable passion!

    Archives

    August 2021
    March 2020
    August 2019
    June 2019
    March 2019
    November 2018
    October 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    May 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    December 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    January 2017
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014

    Categories
    A View From the Hill: Short Stories by Mattie Hill Shields

    All

    Button Text

    RSS Feed

    View my profile on LinkedIn
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Amy M. Schaefer, Writer
  • Blog: From the Front Porch
  • Novels
  • Short Stories
    • Children's Books
  • About the Author
  • Contact
  • Photo & Art Gallery