One Day At A Time

Just got off the phone with D. Our once-a-day phone call. We would talk a bit first then I would put the phone on loudspeaker mode so that TJ can hear his dad, say hi and blab a bit. Some days, he would be more talkative. Today he is distracted by “Madagascar”, which I had to turn on so that he will stop asking me for his biscuits, whilst we are waiting for my mum to finish making dinner.

I’ve been just going thru’ each day at a time, kinda hoping that nothing major happen while D is away in London. Not that I am not independent or that I can’t handle things on my own, but I prefer to have D by my side to share the load, and particularly I feel more at ease knowing that one other parent is around for TJ. I know that family members, my parents, brother, the in-laws will all rally around if the worst case scenario happens, but it’s always better to have D around. He always seems to know what to do.

I had another scare over the weekend. Just when I thought things would not be getting worse, somehow the nightmare happened. I found reddish brown discharge just before I went to bed on Saturday night and this continued till the next morning. I couldn’t sleep the whole night, and the lil’ one seemed to be bearing down inside me making me even more uncomfortable as I laid on the bed fraught with worries and fears. Every little ache, cramp or pain seemed to make things worse. The only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge that TJ was sleeping in his cot and reciting my personal biblical verse Psalms 18:2.

Morning came and I didn’t get much sleep. I was hoping the reddish brown discharge would have gone away as mysteriously as it came, but there it was. I checked the time, it would be 48 minutes after midnight in London, and decided to call D first. I was abit of a wreck and he was sullen, and I surprised myself by working thru’ what I should do, i.e. call my gynae first. But of course, that was obvious enough. I just needed to hear his voice.

And so after hanging up on D, I contacted my gynae via the clinic’s emergency no. and his advice was for me to go to the hospital and he would come and check on me. I had prepared TJ’s breakfast but had to wake my mum up to break the news to her, so that she can give TJ his breakfast. My son was in his usual jovial morning mood, and I tried my darnest not to cry seeing that he had no clue what was happening.

After dumping additonal stuff into the hospital bag that I had prepared last week (just in case I needed to go to A&E), I called a cab and tried to be as strong as I possibly can. My mum can be a nervous wreck and I can’t afford having her getting into that kinda reaction when I needed her to take care of TJ, and especially since I wasn’t sure if I would need to stay in the hospital for the night.

My dear son saw that I had changed to my “going out” clothes and insisted that I take his hand so that he could go out with me. He was repeating, “Mama’s hand” while stretching out his hand to me from his highchair, and all I could do is to kiss him on his forehead and tell him I love him, but he had to stay home with grandma.

I had to quickly get out of the house before I actually couldn’t hold myself together. By then TJ had almost finished his breakfast and my mum decided to take him downstairs too, ‘cos he was getting a bit upset and anxious that he wasn’t coming with me. At which point, I told her to do so only after I got onto the cab, cos the boy would have a meltdown if he saw me in his beloved “blue car” without taking him along. 😉

Anyway the ride to the hospital was kinda surreal, I realised I was tearing and getting into a bit of self-pity. I remembered thinking, shit, I should have worn my Oakleys. I called D again to update him and he suggested that I call his brother just in case. I had text my sister-in-law earlier and must have sounded kinda nonsensical when talking to my brother-in-law.

I was directed to the labour ward, hooked up to the foetal monitoring machine and waited for my gynae who came shortly after. Thank God, everything was ok and I didn’t have to stay in the hospital for the night. So after 2h in the hospital, I got my medz and went home.

TJ was watching TV when I reached home and was absolutely happy to see me. So was I.

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