Sunday, March 29, 2009

Twenty Five Pounds

Bag after bag, the lasics did its' job pulling fluid out of my body. The oxygen mask got to come off as I began to breathe better on my own. Daily, I was wheeled to and fro to have tests on my body. Two such tests would bring me to tears, again, in anticipation of their results. One was a test that would check my lung function along with my fear of being claustrophobic. I cannot remember the name of it, but basically I was put nose to nose with a steel table, a mask was placed over my mouth and nose, and I was told to breathe as deep as I could until the oxygen ran out of the machine. Yeah! Tell me about it! I felt like I was in a coffin suffocating. The catch was, if I panicked and quit trying to breathe through the mask a moment too soon, I had to start over. The second test, was simply an ultrasound of my arms and legs to see if I had any blood clots. The anticipation I experienced during this time was unbearable. I felt better physically, but I kept waiting for the rug to be ripped out from under me like it had been in the past. In the meantime, Robb traveled back and forth from my ICU room to the NICU where the babies were. He brought me pictures and updates of their progress. I was disheartened that I could not participate in their first days on this Earth. But, I had no choice. I needed to get healthy as fast as I could. When my oxygen stats were finally in "normal" range, I graduated from ICU back down to Antepardum - again! I had lost 25 pounds in fluid and was able to begin to participate actively in my babies care. I was grateful to be alive. God had been good to all of us, showing His strength and ability to keep me and my family safe even through grim circumstances.

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