Intellectually, I knew her avoidance of a visit to the hospital or talk about the new baby were most likely due to the acute stress of mental illness. Emotionally, however, I was a mess the week before my c-section. My "mother wound" was throbbing in full force.
To add another confusing element, all of my close female friends couldn't help watch my older children during my upcoming c-section for totally understandable reasons. Little Abigail's loving Godparents adopted their own special needs child a week before her birth. Another close friend was 8 months pregnant herself and lived far from the hospital. I tried to stay relax and "trust in God." Then last Sunday, my last hope wrote on Facebook "Hopefully, I'm the last one in my family to get this vomiting flu bug. It seems to be only a 12 hour thing, so I should be all clear to watch your four kids on Wednesday." It was so comical, I had to smile. I couldn't think of a worse thing that to try to survive my first week home with a new baby while a family of seven struggled with a nasty flu bug. I wrote her back a kind note saying "Please send me your prayers and not your flu germs! Your off the hook for babysitting."
Its hard to explain in words, but underneath all my confusing emotions I had this deep peace. Even though I had suffered from panic attacks during the tense two hour surgery prep period during some of my last c-sections, I knew that this time I could get through that hard time without the physically reassuring presence of my husband. If Jon and Hannah (my oldest) were stuck in the hospital waiting room, I felt certain that the rosary they would say together could be even more spiritually comforting to me. It didn't make logical sense for Jon to miss his daughter's death, but somehow it made spiritual sense. God was trying to heal some deep broken trust issues in me. God was showing me that line from my sacrament of the sick "Let Sister Abigail feel your support, even when she seems to be all alone."