I am “That Mother”

It’s been interesting being thrown back into the world of Obstetrics.  Our first 12 weeks spent within the safe confines of infertility where we are a quiet and focused bunch.  The waiting room is a sacred place where everyone is mindful of the painful journey and not everyone is in the same spot.  Some are grieving, some are praying for continued success, and that their pregnancy will continue and be released into the general population.  We are all respectful of one another in a manner that likens to being at chapel during quiet prayers.


We made it to the point of release and I love using the term Gen Pop because the real world is in the other waiting room where most have tried once or twice and gotten lucky.  Some were not trying and in my view got lucky but not so much in their view.


Gen Pop.  It is here that I am That Mother 


I forget because it IS my life so that weird sense of reality hits me sometimes, I am “That Mother” and it stops me in my tracks.  I am the one with the child who all others on the floor fear they will have. 


I know too much and I am painfully aware of all that can go wrong with pregnancy.  When people around me are excited and their happiness for our family goes up about 12 notches when they hear its twins – I am reserved.  


Reserved because babies are not viable until the 24th week.  Reserved because even at 24 weeks there is a laundry list of delays and life issues.  Reserved because twins are risky as it is and now I have placenta previa, which while not uncommon – has landed me on limited activity.


I am waiting every 2 weeks for the other shoe to drop kick me into an orbit of fear that I know very well from being “That Mother” and until these babes are born healthy and my own health is intact – I will remain reserved. 


It is with this quiet reserve that I head up to Gen Pop every 2 weeks for my sonograms and appointments.  I take a book and my phone so I can pass the time – but I think I might start carrying noise cancellation earplugs.  The sacred quiet reserve among others is gone.  The respectful atmosphere is gone. 


There are the teenagers who salsa past with their boyfriends who can’t keep their pants up, carrying sonogram pictures of a child that I pray will thrive in spite of their parents inability and immaturity to care for them. 


I love the patients who seem to feel the need to talk so loud to ensure that everyone hears their ailments, issues, and complaints.  One woman last week was huffing and puffing to the point that I was worried she was going to hyperventilate.


The man who came with his – whatever the relationship was I am not sure –  and the woman was called back and he proceeds to take out his cell phone and talk loudly explaining to the other end of the phone (and the entire waiting room) what they were doing at the doctor that day.  I sincerely hope her infection has cleared up.


The young lady who came in via wheelchair and again at the top of her voice shared with the receptionist (and the entire waiting room) that she was bleeding from her vagina and for sure this baby was coming today.  Excitement in her voice so I took it that perhaps she was in labor and this was her first rodeo.  HAHAHAHAHAHA when she figures out that getting pregnant was the easiest part for her.


It’s a genuine carnival up in here and I get to go every 2 weeks and then switch to every week.  My sky is purple and I am surrounded by those with blue skies, rainbows, and shooting stars.  My atmosphere is different and I will get through this with a smile on my face because purple is a beautiful color.  Purple is deep and wondrous and while most on that floor never want to see the color of my sky – they are missing the beauty that comes with being “different.”  It also adds deep respect to what is happening within my body now and the beauty being formed with every millisecond.


As I left last week, I came back out into the waiting room with most of the carni’s gone and a mother sitting waiting with her little girl.  Mom was pregnant and the little girl beautiful.  I noticed next the little girl had on AFO’s or leg braces – then I noticed her little walker.  Both items just like Larkin’s. 


I was no longer alone as “That Mother” and the quiet, sacred reserve that I had been missing was surrounding these two souls.  Others share my purple sky and changed atmosphere and as I stopped to talk to them both – I breathed a lot easier and I hope she did as well.


Now if only they would serve funnel cakes ….. My life would be complete.












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10 Responses to I am “That Mother”

  1. Ecki says:

    Mmmmm, purple sky, what a wonderful metaphor. Although maybe orange sky is more appropriate, you know the way the sky looks right before a tornado? Which is what is outside my window right now.

  2. Kayla says:

    Very nice post my friend. I hope all is well with you and the babies.

  3. Zoey's mom says:

    Okay,while I have been immersed in the land of chemo I have TOTALLY missed the baby thing …. I mean BABIES thing!!!I mean I do check in,be it not regularly but come on,how could I have missed this.Congratulations… I am very excited for you and will keep you close in thought,prayers and good vibes for you and your miracles.Rest,take care of you the best you can.Focus on those little wonders and I will for sure be checking in more often.

  4. Angela says:

    I started and remained in Gen Pop my entire pregnancy but was labeled high risk early on. I, as you, would sit in the waiting room hearing complaints from parents who had no idea about the laundry list of worries that was running through my head. They had no idea how lucky they were to be oblivious to the possibilities that I was being faced with. I went to endless numbers of appointments and ultrasounds with my OB and maternal fetal medicine specialist. I tried my hardest to remain positive and hopeful and enjoy my pregnancy as best I could. But I held my breath for 39 weeks and 1 day. And it was only after I heard my healthy baby cry and saw him for myself (after 18 hours of labor and an emergency c-section because not even labor was going to go smoothly for me) that I allowed myself to take a breath and relax. Your story has touched me even though we have never met and I pray for you and for those babies that you hear those healthy cries and can finally take a breath and relax.

  5. mrs chicken says:

    Limited activity … oy. Wish I was going to be here to help! But I will be back before too long, and will be just an email or phone call away if you need anything at all.

    And as far as mothers go, you wear your label beautifully.

  6. Stephanie says:

    This is Christopher’s Mom. I know I am not THAT close, but feel free to get ahold of me if you need anything. We will be keeping you in our prayers – ALL of you! 🙂


    Steph and Christopher

  7. cathy says:

    There is beauty in being ‘that mother’ and I’m so glad that you can see it…limited activity has got to be a challenge-holler if we can help in any way…in our thoughts and prayers.

  8. Melanie says:

    Awe love the color purple it has encompassed such a beautiful array of colors within our family! God Bless you Ames! Thinking of you every day!!! Those babies couldn’t have asked for more of a nurturing and compassionate mother with such a strong drive! Take care and thank you for the wonderful update!

  9. Terri says:

    As always, beautifully written Amy! I sat here nodding my head as I read this cuz I SOO get it, all of it. I’ve been away from blog-land for quite awhile but glad to be reminded that I’m not alone in this journey with purple skies. Thoughts and prayers.

  10. connie says:

    What a beautiful post.

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