Just Twelve Hours
| September 15, 2010Elul 5769
“I’m giving you twelve hours” I overhear the consultant tell the registrar “to investigate the mother’s condition. I’m scheduling the anesthetist for twelve hours’ time to perform a cesarean.” He glances at his watch. “That means at three-twenty in the morning.”
My mouth is parched and dry. “Can I please have a drink?”
The midwife shakes her head. “Not now. Just in case they need to operate immediately.”
“You’re scaring me” I tell her with a half-smile trying to keep my tone nonchalant to keep up the façade of calm self-control.
“You’ve got what to fear.”
As I lay there listening to the abnormal patterns of my baby’s heartbeat on the monitor seeing my own blood pressure readings soar I have no idea what the next twelve hours will bring.
To read the rest of this story please buy this issue of Mishpacha or sign up for a weekly subscription.
Oops! We could not locate your form.