Rebirth | Secret Life of a Lawyer Part 9

As always, all of this happened.

August 1, 2019

I am in a fetal position. My hands hold the side of the hospital bed so tight as if I am about to fall, and it is the only thing holding me up. I am sweating, in pain, bewildered. Her face appears above me. She is calm; she asks me if I need any medication, and I say no, I need 10 minutes alone. Please turn off the lights and ask everyone to leave. I need to figure out what I need to do from this point on. She asks everyone to go and turns off the lights. I close my eyes, trying to recount what has just happened.

Denial

Two hours ago, I was sitting in a lawyers’ meeting at my office with two male lawyers discussing a case. All of a sudden, my suite and chair were soaked. I casually ended the meeting. I was too embarrassed to say anything as I thought this was another pregnancy BS. I then calmly grabbed my purse and walked towards the hospital to make sure everything was OK.

I walked, and I felt like I was hallucinating. The air became hazy, and people faded in the background. I couldn’t hear too many sounds. I couldn’t feel my legs. It felt like I was walking about a meter above the ground. Something told me to take a cab which I did.

“Let me run some tests”

Said the nurse at St. Paul’s hospital with a warm smile on her face, which soothed my beating heart. I laid there on the hospital bed patiently waiting to be told all was well and I could go home. I had no pregnancy complications, and this was not happening to me. I was supposed to give home birth, water birth, in about 1.5 months. I reached for my phone and called my husband, who came to meet me. He had a grin on his face, thinking I was overreacting once again. He held my hand as the nurse came into the room and told me that my water had broken and I was going into early labour.

“We will give you all these antibiotics and steroids and will try to keep her inside for at least a couple weeks. Don’t worry”.

Contractions were intensifying as she said those words.

Confusion

I looked at his face. His smile faded, his face turned to the wall beside him, and he blankly stared at the wall for a few seconds. I kept my eyes on him as he finally regained his focus, looked at me, grabbed my hand and squeezed it. He locked eyes with me and said we are in this together, and we will get through it. Tears began flowing uncontrollably.

I said I was sorry to him over and over. I haven’t been good. I haven’t been kind to you. I have been too busy complaining about an uncomplicated pregnancy. I have been ungrateful. I have neglected everything, including you. I am so sorry. He held me tight as I tried to process the shock, the emotions, what was happening. I couldn’t. I was confused and lost, and the contractions began to intensify.

Usually, pregnant women go through it until their 40th week, at which point they patiently wait (with a smile on their face) for their water to finally break. By this time, they are already on maternity leave and have mentally prepared for labour. I was working until my water broke. No mat leave. No mental or physical preparation. In fact, my baby shower was in two days, and we had a prenatal class to attend this weekend. I can’t process this. Tears and pain take over me as I helplessly try to understand what seems impossible. The medication is not working. Now they are giving an ETA of 6 hours before she is born.

Discovery

The lights are turned off. I close my eyes and ask to speak to the higher power because I don’t think any human has an answer to what is happening right now. All the tests for infection or high blood pressure, which are usually the cause of premature birth, came back negative. No one knows why.

As I close my eyes, I immediately enter an alternate world. It feels like he has been waiting for me to join.

“Why?” I ask.

“You have been unappreciative” is the answer.

Me. The indestructible me. The entitled me. The me that complained about pregnancy from day one as if it was such a burden. As if I was such a victim. As if it was too hard, too inconvenient. The me that took it all for granted. The fact that I had no complications wasn’t enough. The fact that I had a beautiful home, a loving husband, a supportive family, a good career and financial stability wasn’t enough. The me that only focused on its negatives and threw away all its positives. I was angry, negative, mean to myself and everyone around me. The me that complained about a privilege I had been given and didn’t spend one minute being grateful for the miracle that was happening inside of me. That me needed to learn a lesson. That me that had been unappreciative.

“I am so sorry. I am your child and I am not perfect. Please protect her.”

I said as I pleaded. I was immediately forgiven. I was assured that from this point on, everything would be OK, but I would be put to a test. And that I needed to trust in the higher power.

Rebirth

I opened my eyes, and the doctor came in.

“You seem to be struggling and you are not far along. Would you like some Epidural or Morphine? They will ease the pain”

The test. As bad as the pain was, I knew the test involved me surrendering to what was happening and flowing with the pain instead of resisting it. I needed to trust the incredible machine that was my body. And trust the higher intelligence more than the medication. I refused all medication to everyone’s shock. I closed my eyes and let my soul guide me as the pain intensified.

Every time a contraction would come, it felt and seemed like a big wave would lift me up to a climax and then crash me down so hard I could hardly breathe. I had the option of resisting or running away from it, but I didn’t. I continued surrendering and flowing with it. In the middle of labour, I got up, stood up and started rocking my body from side to side, moving with the pain. I was exhilarated. Cleansed, pure, liberated. I gave birth while standing up.

My labour was only 3 hours long. She weighed 4’1 pounds.

Nothing was ever going to be the same

Everyone was worried. I was not. I knew and trusted that from this point on, everything would be OK. I had passed the test. And the higher power had done his part to teach me a lesson when it was right to do so and protected her and me when it was time to do so.

For the next three weeks, I walked to the hospital over 100 times every 3 hours. I walked a total of 400 KMs in 20 days to see her. And the entire time, I felt like I was walking on clouds. Like I was uplifted, reborn, elevated. Despite everyone worrying, all the mothers at NICU being tired and sad at what was happening, I was in pure joy, a state of euphoria, grateful and in the moment, as if I had been reborn.

She excelled and passed all the tests with flying colours. Made all the nurses and everyone around us fall madly in love with her. She came home earlier than expected, and every day, she reminds me that it is not just she that needs me to be nourished and to thrive. It is me that needs her to do just the same.

Written by Leena Yousefi.

[email protected]

To read about part 1 on the panic attacks, click here.

To read part 2 on addiction,  click here.

For Part  3 on the climax, click here.

For Part 4 on pleasing, click here.

For Part 5 on how it all ended, click here. 

For Part 6 on how bullying got me to where I am, click here.

For Part 7 on transformation, click here.

For Part 8 on loss, click here.