Exactly three years ago today, I began my tenure as a veteran.  No, I hadn’t fought in any foreign war, but I was fighting a form of combat that no one really understood.  I’m talking about the war my body was raging against itself.  You see, on Veteran’s Day 2008, I found out that I was going to be on hospital bedrest for the long haul.  I was just about 20 weeks pregnant with Maya, and all was going well . . .or so it seemed.  It was a day off for me (my school was closed), so I took advantage of that and had scheduled both my 20 week ultrasound and my 20 week OB appointment back to back.  First up was the sonogram.  I figured getting that done first was smart because if anything was found to be unusual, they could call ahead to my OB and we could discuss it then.  I’d already have an appointment.  To make a long story short, it was discovered at the sonogram that my cervix was extremely short and that time was not on our side.  I was going to need to head to the hospital for an emergency cerclage.

Surprisingly, I took this all in stride.  At that point, I wasn’t thinking that this would be anything bigger than a simple surgery (although surgeries are never simple) and that I would go home later that day-maybe the next.  Little did I know that I would be spending the next 3 1/2 months, yes, MONTHS in the hospital flat on my back.  I was lucky to have landed myself at INOVA Fairfax where I became a patient on the High Risk Pregnancy floor (known as HRP to those in the loop).  I was even luckier to have landed the most prestigious doctor in the area for my surgery.  Luckiest of all was that he was able to do a successful surgery (despite telling me afterwards that it was the hardest cerclage he had ever done) and save Maya’s life.  And wouldn’t you know, Maya’s birthday is even on St. Patrick’s Day.

In any event, even after the surgery there was uncertainty, tons of stress, and a not-yet-two-year-old-Seth to take care of.  It was confirmed that I wouldn’t be going home anytime soon, so my parents basically moved in to our house to cook, clean, help with Seth, pick him up from school when necessary, and visit me daily.  Other friends and family members pitched in to help Seth and Philip, and to keep me company in the hospital.  It wasn’t the ideal situation for anyone, but it worked.  For this I am grateful.