Two years ago today, I was laying in my hospital bed, eating a double order of pancakes and bacon and trying to grow the
Twinsies just a
little more. Food was about the only thing that entertained me in the hospital. Not that I ate all the time or anything! In fact, I wasn't eating enough, thus the 50 million Ensures they made me drink.
Food was one of the few constants of my day. I knew I'd have the babies monitored twice a day. That was a given. But food was something I had control over. And I had very
little control back then. Toward the last few weeks of my pregnancy, they finally realized that I had eaten every item on the menu about 10 times and took pity on me. I wish they had realized it sooner, because they let me special order from the cafeteria! I could have things like chicken fajita burritos and pita pocket sandwiches. It was fantastic!
The food on the normal patient menu wasn't awful, it was simply unimaginative. To make it things interesting, I had been mixing things up. I asked for substitutions, had chocolate milk instead of regular, would beg for grilled onions instead of the raw ones they put on the cheeseburger. I learned I had to ask for what I wanted, and sometimes, even fight for something different.
When I unpacked my classroom a few days ago, I found my copy of the menu from Huntington Hospital. I opened it briefly. Memories came rushing back; I could actually taste some of the things I had ordered back then. It was very disconcerting. But it also brought back the memories of the lovely people I spoke with when I ordered my food. I remember a man by the name of
Ren who was not only the recorded voice when you called in, but actually took orders. He had a great voice! There was also another woman, whose name I now forget, who was always sick! She would stay on the phone with me, teaching me how to work the menu and giving me an outside person to talk to about things completely unrelated to food. Those moments gave me a break from my hours in that hospital bed where I counted ceiling tiles, waited for another contraction, and learned my baby girl was not growing.
Two years ago, we had had our last ultrasound and discovered that Gracie had not grown in the two weeks since our last ultrasound. I remember that Dr. Bruce was concerned that Gracie had actually lost an ounce while
Lukie had gained a pound. Dr. Hartford had discovered that my body was preparing to go into labor and I was ready to climb the walls from waiting.
Two years ago, I was excited that it was
September. Not August. Not July. Not June. I had made it to September and my babies were going to be okay. I was anxious and tired, getting crankier by the moment. Looking back now, I feel very badly for my nurses. I don't think I was very pleasant to be around.
Two years ago, I was two days from welcoming Gracie and Luke into the world and I did not even know it. Do you remember what you were doing two years ago?
I suspect not, but then again, I don't remember 2
days ago.
It's a darn good thing I have this blog!
