Feb 12, 2021 YOU SAVED MY LIFE…
“We can’t stop the clots. We can’t stop you from bleeding out. Don’t panic, we are going to call in the anesthesiologist to give you an IV in your neck, since your veins have collapsed. In the meantime, we are going to talk to your husband about options.”
Those words from the doctor who had just delivered my son less than 2 hours ago RANG loudly in my inner ear. CLOTS? BLEEDING OUT? COLLAPSED VEINS? OPTIONS? What the hell did all this mean? As I watched the doctor walk over and grab my husband’s forearm to speak to him privately, it reminded me of a scene from Grey’s Anatomy. Am I going to die? Is this how story ends. As I saw my husband’s head fall, they began pushing my hospital bed into the OR. Tears ran down my face as nurse squeezed my hand…to reassure me that everything was ok. I wasn’t so sure. Chris followed the bed. He was immediately stopped by the palm of the head nurse’s hand that almost touched his chest. “We don’t think you should go. She’ll be right back, just wait here.” He didn’t argue with her. I just saw him drop his head again.
I’m writing this blog 17 months later. So I made it. (Somebody clap your hands for Jesus). The journey to get here was the hardest thing I had ever gone through. It wasn’t until I had recovered (still somewhat recovering now) that I realized how much I was wrong about so many things in life, including MY HUSBAND.
Take this journey with me….
Imagine almost dying of “complications from child birth”, recovering, and immediately thrusted back into the life of a mother, wife, teacher, sister, hell a HUMAN BEING! The day I was released from the hospital, I remember having a very silent panic attack on the way home. I sat in the back seat with my 3-day-old baby and cried my eyes out. Why? I was afraid I would never be the old Jasmine again. I was afraid I was no longer fit to be a mother. After two complicated pregnancies, did I even deserve to be a mother? I was traumatized. But, I did what I’ve done in almost every difficult situation I’d been in as an adult. I suppressed it. I suppressed my true feelings to appear strong in front of the “world”.
Over the course of the next few months, I would suffer many panic attacks. My baby would cry and I could not help. I would be left alone, while my husband worked feeling hopeless. I couldn’t help my oldest son with homework or play games with him. I couldn’t perform as a wife either. I couldn’t have sex because my c-section incision had gotten infected, so my recovery process was at a standstill almost. I had no energy to do anything but sit. At this point, what was I good for? I cried more than I breathed.
I remember my husband coming home from work one day. He looked at me and said, “it’s time to get help.”
I didn’t know where to start, so at my post pregnancy appointment, I though I’d start there. I remember the Nurse Practitioner asking me in a very delightful and joyful tone, “How are you feeling being a new mom?”. As the tears ran down my face I told her that I was afraid to go to sleep because I thought I would die. I told her that I didn’t feel capable of being a mom. I told her that my C-section incision got infected and I couldn’t have sex with my husband. I told her that I was useless. I remember her looking into my eyes and saying, “it’s gets better, this is normal”. In THAT moment I felt like she didn’t care, that she was just saying what her profession taught her to say. I went along with it though.
I placed the back of my head on the pillow and my feet in the medical stirrups and waited for the dreadful pelvic exam. It was my first official exam after the baby, so I knew what to expect, I’d done this before. When she’s done, still smiling, she takes the gloves off, washes her hands, and tells me to get dressed.
More time than normal went by as I am waiting for her to return. My husband is normally there to pass the time with me, but he had just started a new position and didn’t want to take time off so soon. So maybe it just seemed like more time. Finally, she walks back in with two written prescriptions. And she says…
“You are suffering from PTSD and Depression. So I wrote you two prescriptions to help things get better for you.”
“PTSD? I’m not a veteran” I thought to myself. However, I had no time to process that news because what she would say next was GUT WRENCHING.
“I hate to break this news to you, but it seems that you have a STI”
I felt all of the little energy I had left in my body leave my body. The room went gloomy and silent. Her mouth was moving, but I heard no sound. The pamphlet she handed me drew wet with the sweat from my palms.
“Can you hear me?”, she said with a slight smirk on her face.
“Yes”. I said, ever so subtle.
“Do I need to call someone to come and get you? I know this news is devastating after having such a terrible post pregnancy.”
I didn’t respond; I stood up and walked towards the door. As Im leaving she says…
“You really need to talk to your husband and ask him who he has been intimate with.”
AT THE MOMENT, I LOST IT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My hands were shaking so fast, I couldn’t even dial his number to call him. I got in my car and yelled at my bluetooth. “CALL CHRISTOPHER”.
He picked up the phone after the 2nd ring as if he was anticipating my call.
“WHO THE FUCK IS SHE? IT DON’T MATTER. GET YOUR SHIT OUT OF THE HOUSE BY THE END OF THE DAY. YOU NASTY PIECE OF SHIT.”
“WHAT”!!!!!! He yelled. “WHO IS WHO? What are you talking about. JASMINE, WHERE ARE YOU.”
I was driving 90 mph on Palmyra Rd. Where was I headed, I still don’t know. My mind was racing and my heart was winning the race. I pulled up in the parking garage of his job. He literally saw me spinning in from his office window. He ran out to me.
“Jasmine, what is going on?”
I threw the wet pamphlet at him. “This is what’s going on. How dare you EVEN….”
Mid sentence, he takes out his phone and schedules an emergency doctor appointment. He looks at me and says, “the appointment is at 3. There is no way I gave you ANYTHING.”
Three o’clock rolls around and we are at the doctor’s office. We wait. We wait. We wait. While we are waiting, it hit me. I haven’t had sex with my husband in MONTHS. Even before the baby was born. Because my first pregnancy was so horrible, after we found out I was pregnant, he barely touched me. My c-section incision had gotten infected, so the “no sex” was even longer. How could this be possible? Still angry and now confused, we waited on the doctor. He informed us that looking at the specimen through his scope, he found nothing. I remember him joking about how healthy my husband’s urine was. The doctor asked us, “why are you here?”
My husband explained to him what my doctor informed me. Then he says, when was the last time you had sex if you have a new baby? Neither of us could remember.
“It’s been atleast 10 months, Doc,” I said.
“Maam, I think you need a second opinion. Your body has been through a lot of trauma since your pregnancy. Your body may have an infection, but I can almost guarantee it’s not an STI from your husband. But just so that you’re 100% sure, we will still send his specimen to the lab.”
We left that appointment in the pouring rain. I still didn’t feel much better. Now my trauma and depression had worsened. I was lost. My husband isn’t a perfect man, but I always knew he would never hit me or cheat on me. Lie to me, maybe. But cheat? No! Right? Hell, I don’t know.
Days go by and we get the all negative results from the doctor. I seek a second opinion and find out some things about my body that don’t include an STI. I seek treatment for my physical and mental state. My husband NEVER leaves my side. I cried a lot. He held me. I yelled a lot. He listened. I went to therapy. He sat beside me. I hit him. He took the lick. He fought to keep me sane. This man is my savior. I got so down, he bathed me, fed me, clothed me, and held me until I fell asleep. I owe this man my life.
So don’t come at me talking about marriage is 50/50 or 100/100. Because I was at 0 and my husband had to give it all. I don’t entertain comments made out of ignorance. Until you have suffered enough, like me, and witnessed the patience, humility, grace, and goodness that I witnessed in my time of trauma… your debate is WORTHLESS against mine.
MY HUSBAND SAVED MY LIFE.
A few morals to this story.
LADIES, don’t let NOBODY tell you about YOUR body and take it as the only truth. Doctors are NOT God. We need them, but what they know about you; they learned. What you know about you, you were BORN with.
In any relationship, there may be one person who gives more than the other. It should never always be the same person. Times change and situations are temporary. Always be willing to give, even when you aren’t capable.
I love us for real.
Christopher, the heart of you rests in the palms of my hand. I will cherish who you are forever. Thank you for being who God called you to be for me, our children, and our family.
If it’s not bringing us peace or happiness… WE DON’T WANT IT!