I saw this quote a couple of weeks ago, and it reminded me of what it means to be resilient in the face of any unknown. April 1 has a special meaning for me, and, if you have time, I’d like to tell you a story.
16 years ago, I was almost 29 weeks pregnant with my youngest daughter. I was scheduled to work the afternoon/evening shift at the domestic violence shelter where I was a resource specialist and legal advocate. Before I went to work, I stopped at the mall to buy maternity clothes. I was so excited to buy these clothes because when I was pregnant with my older daughter seven years earlier, I was 19 years old and didn’t have a lot of money to buy maternity clothes. This time around was different, and I wanted to have cute and stylish clothes to wear to work.
After I finished shopping, I realized that I didn’t have much time to get to work. Those later shifts were always a struggle for me because I lost track of time. On that day, 16 years ago, I found myself walking too fast while wearing shoes with slippery soles and ended up slipping and falling while walking through Sears.
I got up and didn’t think any more about the fall, mostly just glad no one saw. When I got to work 20 minutes later, my stomach started to feel tight and uncomfortable. I didn’t think too much about it because I’d felt the tightness before and it always went away, but my co-workers convinced me to call my doctor who suggested I go to labor and delivery at the hospital just to get checked out.
Within a matter of a couple of hours, I was hooked up to an IV having magnesium sulfate pumped through my body in an attempt to stop contractions and given the first of two steroid shots to strengthen my daughter’s lungs, should she be born within the next 48 hours. At this point, I was four centimeters dilated.
I don’t remember a lot about my first few days in the hospital because the magnesium sulfate made it hard for me to concentrate. The large doses I was given made my body feel like it was on fire from the inside out and my vision was so blurry. What I do remember was the on-call doctor telling me that I would be in the hospital until my daughter’s due date, if I didn’t have her within the next couple of days. It was April 1 and I laughed thinking she was joking.
My daughter’s due date was June 11.
I ended up spending 25 days in the hospital until I was allowed to go home on bed rest. My daughter was healthy and born three weeks later just shy of being four weeks early.
This is one of my favorite photos of my youngest. She’s taught me a lot.
Why am I telling you this? Well, when I saw this quote, I immediately remembered how it felt to be isolated and stuck in the hospital, unable to be with my family the way I wanted to be with them. I thought about the events I missed that went on while I was in the hospital. I remember the loneliness I felt watching the parking lot fill in the morning and empty at night. People were living their lives, and I was stuck.
Everyone told me this was temporary. Some day I wouldn’t remember how this felt and it would all be worth it because I had a healthy child. They weren’t wrong, but their words of encouragement didn’t help when I felt so isolated.
I’m sharing this story with you today because so many people feel isolated right now because of what’s happening in the world. Maybe the initial excitement of getting back lost time hasn’t worn off. Maybe being at home all the time is still so new that it’s still comforting. Eventually, everyone will have a moment when the gravity of isolation sets in, and when you have this moment, I want you to remember Glennon Doyle’s words.
We are resilient, and we can move through hard times. I won’t tell you that you won’t remember how it felt. Everyone who told me that was wrong. Every April 1, I remember how it felt to have life change so quickly and with so much uncertainty, but this knowledge reminds me that I’ve made it through the toughest days and came out with a greater appreciation for everyone and everything around me.
You will too.
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A Letter to My Youngest Daughter
