Something's broken...

We were living by the ocean, yet again. We've often found ourselves living near the beach - I suppose like most humans we are drawn to the freshness of the coastal air. I can take the beach or leave it - growing up in a landlocked country, going to the beach was never part of my day-to-day.

We were about an hour and half from Melbourne. We'd moved there on a bit of a whim, the way we were wont to do those days. As such, I hadn't quite changed over my hospital registration. I was maybe 7 months pregnant at this stage, so I'm big, but still getting around and exercising gently. I took Shona for a walk that morning. a good 45 minutes, up and down the coastal hilly, windy roads.

Nothing out of the ordinary caused the first pang. It was painful enough to stop me in my tracks and take a sharp breath. The dog was behaving for once, so I can't blame her. It was time to turn back -a few metres down the road, yet another pang - a man in his early to mid thirties was driving past and actually stopped to see if I needed any help. You know me though never really one to ask for favours. He was kind enough to ask again, but I thanked him and sent him on his way, I wasn't far from home.

However, by the time I was walking up the street to our gate, every step brought a twinge - none so sharp as the first two, but certainly something I could clearly feel. I consulted doctor Google, as you do... then I rang and spoke to someone, maybe a medical helpline or the hospital, I can't remember. What I do remember is lying on the sofa for two days on paracetamol. What I do remember was being a little panicked but trying not to stress - there was no bleeding after all. I'd had pains on and off throughout my pregnancy, but nothing that felt like these. What I do remember was you, on the third morning, which me lying on the couch - reminding me that you had plans to go to your country block, 'It's alright for me to go, right, I just have all these materials I have to take up there for the cabin.' It wasn't a question, and I've never been one to tell you what you should and shouldn't do.

Off you went, five and a half hours away. There's no signal at the block either. I was actually appalled that you'd left, I actually couldn't believe it, but took it as an opportunity to catch up on some of my foxtel shows that I can't watch when you  are home.

Fast forward.... it's 5am in the morning and I'm in a bit of a panic - I'm on the phone to my maternal hospital. They've told me to come in, it's been 3 days, the pains haven't gone away, in fact they are maybe getting worse. They said to come in just around 2pm and they would check me out.

The pains, or whatever the hell the were, were noticeably worse. I had decided that it wasn't something to call an ambulance over, I would have ended up at the nearest hospital anyway, that wasn't what I wanted, I needed the familiarity of my fancy city hospital. I hadn't made any new friends in the area - mothers group doesn't start till after the baby, and even if I had, as if I would have asked a new mum for such a big favour. I decided to try the drive, see how I went and the very second the pain became distracting and it became dangerous, I would pull over somewhere sensible or at a servo, and call a ambulance from there. I drove over an hour and a half with what felt like contractions, almost every five minutes. They didn't get stronger, they didn't get closer together but they were consistent and regular. I found the strength to do that drive not for me, but for that baby boy inside me. I didn't know if I was losing my baby, but I knew I was all he had.

You rang me when I was just getting into the car - you told me to wait for you, that you would drive me when you got back. Even if you had left that very second, you were over five hours away. You can lose a baby in a lot less time.

I made it to the hospital, stayed for a few hours and then, exhausted and relieved, and really none the wiser did the drive back home. I got home shaky and exhausted, but grateful that there was nothing horribly wrong that they could find.

That week, I learned a lesson that I shouldn't have forgotten. That you literally put your plans and your needs above everything else. You are so single-minded that nothing else matters, just whatever your plan is. Something broke in me when you left that house that day and left me in pain on the sofa. And it floated away and vanished whilst I sat on my own in my car, and at the hospital.

That would be the first time it dawned on me that I actually might have to leave you one day. I now wish I'd had the strength to pack my bags right then.