English Class Memoir

This is a copy of the Memoir I wrote for my writing class. Enjoy :)

If you ask my mother to tell you about me as a child, she just might tell the story of a two year old me, running around a church gymnasium at a family reunion asking my cousins who they were going to marry when they grow up and how many children they were going to have. I think it is rare to know one’s purpose in life, and I seemed to have my path in life worked out at two years old. Becoming a mother was the utmost desire of my heart. For a while, I wondered if that dream was ever going to become a reality. We all, I believe, have to experience the bad in life to truly appreciate the good. That belief definitely applies to relationships. After a few frogs, and a few “knights in shining armor” that turned out to be more like “court jesters in tin foil”, I found someone who I could share my life with. And it all started with a Facebook Friend Request, the last place on Earth I expected to find “the one”. I never would have thought that a year later, we’d be starting an unexpected, but welcome journey together. Taylor is his name, and he is my very best friend.

                For some reason, beginning in October 2012, my body decided it was time to catch every cold, flu, or random infectious disease. I’d been to the doctor a total of 4 times by the end of the year, including a very unpleasant night spent in the ER dreading the possibility of having to have emergency surgery to remove my appendix. By March 2013, I had been to the doctor an additional 3 times. This last illness however, was different. Coughing, fevering, and a sore throat were only the tip of the influenza iceberg. The thing that really had me worried, however, was my incessant need for sleep. Never before, in any illness, had I ever experienced this kind of sheer exhaustion. Sleeping for 18 hours straight, waking up for a brief period of time to eat and down some cold medicine, only to return back to bed as tired as if I hadn’t slept for days. It was what I thought at the time, the worst experience of my life. After doctor’s orders to rest and “push the fluids” were still unsuccessful after a week, I returned to the doctor. I was absolutely convinced I must have some sort of unheard of disease, because to me, I was dying. I didn’t feel at home in my body, and my body just wasn’t functioning anywhere near normal, whatever normal is. Tests were run, temperature taken, throat swabbed, and all sorts of poking and prodding ensued. Taylor was quite concerned, as was I. When you live with someone, spend nearly every waking moment with them, they tend to get to know you nearly as well as you know yourself. And he knew something was off.

                Time never seems to tick at more of a crawl then it does when you’re waiting for the doctor to tell you what is wrong with you, and what magical pill or liquid he can give to make you feel all better.  Sitting on that crinkly paper they put on the exam tables, the sterile air still and quiet, just waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally, the doctor enters the room. You’re filled with both relief and worry all at the same time. “Well, it’s not strep. It does look like you have a bronchial infection, and….take a look at this test here” he says, with almost a sheepish grin. I look down at his clip board, and sure enough, there is a pregnancy test. I look back at the doctor, confused. He asks “How many lines do you see?”, “One…” I reply. And he tells me to look again. Time stopped. I’ve never truly experienced that feeling before. The moment the Earth stands still, everything freezes. I believe it’s also referred to as shock and as sure as I’m living and breathing, there were two lines on that test.

                This is where the fog settles in as well. Everything moves into slow motion. I looked up at the doctor, I looked at Taylor, and I looked back at the test. “Surely, this can’t be right.” I think to myself. I’m blinking rapidly; perhaps there is something wrong with my eyes? And then the doctor confirms what I’d been trying to process, but had been unable to thus far. “You’re pregnant! Congratulations! That explains a lot of things here!” he says. I’m still in lost and confused mode, and I look at Taylor for confirmation that I’d just heard correctly. One look at his face said it all. He looked exactly how I felt.

                The next thing I know, we’re in the car and the waterworks have begun. This wasn’t our plan, our plan was to get married next year, go to school, save for a house, and travel together before we started a family. We had a plan! Well, life decided otherwise. After the initial shock wore off, a feeling of joy began to spread. It was like walking into the sunlight and the warmth of the rays slowly warms you to your bones. Tears of fear and shock quickly turned to tears of joy and wonderment. A baby was coming. My lifelong dream was coming true.

                One of the first things I did after this news was make my first appointment with my obstetrician. I was counting down the weeks, days, hours, and minutes until that appointment. I’d get to hear my baby’s heartbeat. I’d heard stories from my friends about how magical that moment is. I’d been waiting for most of my life to get this experience, and waiting for this appointment was like being five years old and waiting for Christmas. Little did I know that the wait for this moment was going to be made even longer by the dreaded arrival of morning sickness. Now, here is the thing about this so called “morning” sickness. It can, and does in fact, appear at any hour of the day or night. Or, in my case, it lasts all day and night. I had many days where I could not keep a single thing in my stomach. It was horrible. And to make the experience even worse, you are overwhelmed with worry and concern for your baby because you don’t know if you’re giving the baby the proper nourishment it needs.

                Finally, after weeks of waiting, the big day arrived. May 7^th, 2013 is a day that changed my life forever. Bright and sunny, it was perfectly beautiful. I had hardly slept at all the night before, excitement and worry filled me up like a balloon. I felt ready to burst at any minute. I’d come to realize that pregnancy, and eventually motherhood, equated to constant emotion. And more often than not, the emotions that dominated were worry and anxiety. Taylor and I arrived at the doctor’s office, and were quickly taken back into an exam room. Finally! The moment I’d been dreaming of. The doctor got out his Doppler, a machine used to hear the baby’s heartbeat, and…silence. All you could hear was my own blood flowing through my body. My heart sank. The doctor wasn’t too worried about the viability of the pregnancy, I was still losing every meal to the porcelain throne, and every indication showed that there wasn’t any issue with the pregnancy. But, sensing Taylor and I’s instant panic, he asked if we’d like an ultrasound. I believe we replied to his question before he even finished it, of course we wanted an ultrasound! Not hearing that baby’s heartbeat was the most fearful moment of my life.

                The doctor called down to the hospital, and scheduled the ultrasound. Unfortunately, there was a two and a half hour wait before any relief would be coming our way. We decided to go to my parent’s home and wait it out. Seconds turned into hours, an hour felt like an eternity. How was I ever going to be able to make it? My mind kept turning to the worst case scenario. I pulled up Google and started doing my own research. This was a bad idea. If there is one piece of advice I could give to anyone in a similar situation, it would be to stay as far away from the internet as possible. It does absolutely nothing to reassure you of anything positive. I was convinced that I was going to go to that ultrasound and be given the worst possible news.

                What seemed like years later, we finally found ourselves going through the motion of getting in the car, and driving back to the hospital; another slow motion event. It was like I was watching the movements we were making from a distance. I wasn’t there. Mentally I was miles away, preparing myself emotionally, finding the words to tell my family. “How was I going to look at Taylor after this? Would he blame me somehow? He’s been so excited”. Guilt was racking my soul. “Had I done anything that I shouldn’t have before I knew I was pregnant? There was that one weekend I went out with my girlfriends. I shouldn’t have had that wine!” I was being totally illogical and was beating myself up internally.

                Thankfully, once we reached the hospital we didn’t have very long to wait before we were called back to the sonogram room. Hospitals have always given me goose bumps; it’s too sterile and clean for me. That did nothing to settle my nerves. The sonogram technician was a bubbly, friendly woman, probably about my age, and I could tell she was trying her best to lighten our moods as we prepared for the ultrasound to begin. After all, she knew why we were there. She had the order from the doctor. I was truly thankful for her attitude though. She helped bring a little glimmer of hope back to our little world. The little room we were in was darkened, a big flat-screen TV on the wall so we could have a good view of our little one. It was a sensory experience at this point. Cold gel, squirted on my belly for the sonogram wand, Taylor’s rough yet soft hand holding mine, the crinkly paper that always seems to accompany any medical table crumpling softly beneath me, and then the “whoosh whoosh” of the sonogram.

                Time stopped, I held my breath, and then the most wonderful, beautiful sound filled that little room: a tiny, very rapid, heartbeat and the miraculous flutter on a TV screen of my little baby’s heart. Tears filled my eyes; Taylor kissed my hand and squeezed it hard. Relief, pure unabashed relief, poured through my veins.  Nothing I have ever heard in my entire life, thus far, was as beautiful or cathartic as that heartbeat, beating at a healthy 172 beats per minute. In that instant, I fell in love. It was like I’d been living in darkness, and suddenly I see a flickering candle. Hope, joy, wonderment, gratitude; it was a symphony of feeling and delight. The greatest moment of my life.