Last week, you grew restless. You kicked and punched harder than ever, trying to come out to see the big world. I understand, you have grown so big now and my womb must be very small and uncomfortable for you. But my dear, please be more patient. You need more time to get stronger. The outside world is exciting, but also scary and tough. It’s very dangerous for you to step into this world if you don’t prepare yourself well.
To prevent you from preterm delivering, I had to stay in the hospital for a whole week. It was a very long week for both of us. I was forbidden to get off the bed except go to the bathroom. But even I was allowed to, I couldn’t. The drug they prescribed made me dizzy and my head spinning all the day. I could barely extract myself from the crippling and filthy hospital bed where I’d been crashing on for almost a whole week. Several times, I woke up, sweat-soaked. My forehead pounded, my stomach churned. I concentrated all my energy on not passing out again, and tried to figure out the puzzle: how could this whole mess happen to us?
Am I such a terrible mother that you can’t wait to leave me? Perhaps it is true. I always tried to be strong and might have ignored the warning signs you had passed to me. I hated to be regarded as the weak, so I kept ing like usual. But to have you growing inside doubled my burden. And I forgot how fragile you really are. Sorry, honey, as your mother I should know better than that to protect both of us. But I promise you, I will be good for the rest of time. So please be good too, just two more weeks are enough for you to get ready.
Sometimes, I wonder, did my inmost fear and insecurities you sensed that make you decide to come out in such hurry? I am not strong and brave as I appear to be. You must know that, right? We are so tightly bounded together. You know exactly how I feel, and what I think. The last stage of my pregnancy is so hard for me. The pressures I am under, and the discomforts I am going through seemed to sap my last reserves of strength. And sometimes I scared too. The result from tracing my heartbeat is not good. I can’t deliver you in the natural way. And even by c-section, the risks also existed. I put on a good face on it and call it as the doctor’s bluffing. But at the bottom of my heart, I am worried. You must know that. But honey, I am your mum. You will give me all the strength and courage I need to go through it. I am pretty sure that now. So be patient, and looking forward to the big day with me. Two more weeks would be OK….
To prevent you from preterm delivering, I had to stay in the hospital for a whole week. It was a very long week for both of us. I was forbidden to get off the bed except go to the bathroom. But even I was allowed to, I couldn’t. The drug they prescribed made me dizzy and my head spinning all the day. I could barely extract myself from the crippling and filthy hospital bed where I’d been crashing on for almost a whole week. Several times, I woke up, sweat-soaked. My forehead pounded, my stomach churned. I concentrated all my energy on not passing out again, and tried to figure out the puzzle: how could this whole mess happen to us?
Am I such a terrible mother that you can’t wait to leave me? Perhaps it is true. I always tried to be strong and might have ignored the warning signs you had passed to me. I hated to be regarded as the weak, so I kept ing like usual. But to have you growing inside doubled my burden. And I forgot how fragile you really are. Sorry, honey, as your mother I should know better than that to protect both of us. But I promise you, I will be good for the rest of time. So please be good too, just two more weeks are enough for you to get ready.
Sometimes, I wonder, did my inmost fear and insecurities you sensed that make you decide to come out in such hurry? I am not strong and brave as I appear to be. You must know that, right? We are so tightly bounded together. You know exactly how I feel, and what I think. The last stage of my pregnancy is so hard for me. The pressures I am under, and the discomforts I am going through seemed to sap my last reserves of strength. And sometimes I scared too. The result from tracing my heartbeat is not good. I can’t deliver you in the natural way. And even by c-section, the risks also existed. I put on a good face on it and call it as the doctor’s bluffing. But at the bottom of my heart, I am worried. You must know that. But honey, I am your mum. You will give me all the strength and courage I need to go through it. I am pretty sure that now. So be patient, and looking forward to the big day with me. Two more weeks would be OK….
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