Out of the Depths

Today began unexpectedly. I was awakened by my own labored breathing and pounding heart as the memories of last year’s Good Friday flooded my mind. 

Exactly one year ago, I had an appointment set for an ultrasound with the high–risk pregnancy clinic. After speaking with my obstetrician and the clinic, I was reassured that this would more than likely be my only visit with them. They were just taking proper precautions due to my age and previous pregnancy, which had resulted in the premature birth of our first son. I was very relaxed. I even told my husband to stay home with our one-year-old so he could eat breakfast and I would be back home in plenty of time for him to make it to work. We had no idea this appointment would turn out to be a matter of life and death. My baby would be delivered via emergency C-section at just twenty-six weeks, weighing less than two pounds.

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