Early in the morning there is a knock on the door of my hospital room. I will be picked up. It starts. While lying in bed and being pushed down the long corridors, my emotions take a rollercoaster ride. Arrived in the operating room, countless men and women dressed in blue, green and white presented themselves to me. It's buzzing like an anthill. I can quickly say goodbye to my partner.
Strapped to the operating table, put on the anesthetic mask, breathe in deeply 3 times. Silence.
I come to in the recovery room with photos of my son on my chest. I struggle with drowsiness, nausea, fatigue and pain. I force myself to come to myself as quickly as possible. i want to go to my baby
And then the moment when I am pushed into the room. There stands my future husband - in his arms a small bundle - our child. Our son. A bundle full of happiness, love and infinite gratitude.
He gently lays this bundle on my chest and all I feel is bliss. Inner peace. Time stands still. love, just love
The day before I checked in at the hospital. Many discussions with doctors followed. It was a planned cesarean. The fact that my caesarean section was finally performed with general anesthesia was the safer way for everyone involved due to my high degree of paraplegia. The risk of complications is too high, and the experience with initial situations like mine is too low. But I was a little sad about it, because I would have liked to have experienced the birth consciously. Fortunately, the operation went smoothly and quickly.
Our son was born on a sunny winter morning.
The following days in the hospital were challenging. I've never had pain like this before. Rarely have I been so close to despair. My body rebelled. I no longer felt myself.
Everything I had learned to relate to in the years since my accident was lost. I was able to identify every pinch, pain, discomfort and feeling beforehand. My body and I were one. Every signal he gave me was understandable to me.
Then there was only chaos. And pain. It all culminated in autonomic dysreflexia. The nightmare of every person with paraplegia in the area of the cervical spine. It was life threatening.
And then there was my son. As if he knew, he was nothing short of amazing those days in the hospital. He radiated a calm, a contentment. As if he wanted to show: "Mom, everything will be fine!"
And my son was right. Now everything is good!
When I got home I felt better every day. My body awareness returned. The desperation, the panic, the fear, the powerlessness. they gave way.
What is left is love. Pure, unconditional and irrepressible motherly love.