No day is an average day

I've been reminded lately that no day is an average day.

The woman at the register who is snippy to you might have lost her mother yesterday. The man who dangerously cuts you off may be racing to pick up his injured son. The person you pass in the hall who doesn't return your offered smile might be contemplating divorce from an abusive partner.

The point is, we just don't know, can't know, and shouldn't assume either about anyone.

I remember when my dad was sick, dying, and finally just dead, that I had a similar sense of bigger things going on around me; of a connection to people the world wide in their suffering and strength and bravery to live their lives each day. I was like a raw nerve walking around and NO ONE KNEW. No one knew to even ask. I felt like I was living a secret life in broad daylight. And I'm feeling that again as my best friend struggles to save her baby.

Her amniotic sac suddenly (and unexpectedly - she'd been having a normal, healthy pregnancy) broke on March 14th. Her doctor told her to go the ER and, like an addict in an intervention, she says, she was told she wouldn't be leaving for the next 10 weeks, and no, she may not run home to gather her things. And hence her captivity began.

Spring came and burst into full bloom while she lay in her hospital room with flowers lining her window bench. Her fiance freely drove to and from work and stopped by a few times a week, feeding their cat and doing her laundry a long the way. Her parents held their breaths two-and-a-half hours away doing their daily ablutions hoping they wouldn't receive any phone calls before the ten weeks were up. And Hollis and I continued our daily outings, only this time we stopped by to see "Reeree," one of his favorite people on the planet, every single day as I promised her the first night I visited her in the labor and delivery room.

Now, though, her baby (and her body) have decided enough is enough and she's been in active labor for over 30 hours. She's just past 26 weeks. And again, life goes on and I could hear babies being born all around us as we kept vigil all day yesterday; and I passed pregnant women in the halls; and tried not to cry when the gift shop cashier asked me so sincerely how I was doing that it truly touched my heart to wonder what brought her to this day and sentiment.

So, like all of us do whenever we hear about another mother and her struggles, hold your little ones tighter for a moment today and give everyone an open faced smile and a break. You never know what might be going on in their life today. You might be the one bright spot they receive.

Today is Day 17. Please keep my dear friend in your hearts as she fights a mother's fight.

Where I was when I got the call that Sheree was in the hospital: a throng of happy, sweaty, kite-flying people.

Day 5.

Day 6.

Day 10.

Day 11.

:: Later on Day 13 Sheree called me to say that while doing a routine monitoring they'd discovered some mild contractions. I stayed the night with her. ::

Day 14.
The morning view of the UT tower from my window bed.

Later that morning, we were sent to L&D for more close monitoring. Anthony and Hollis made this note for her at home.

Day 15.

Day 16.
Jeff, her partner, calls before 8 to say she's back in L&D after a brief respite in her old room. Contractions are more intense and she's getting an epidural. I head back up to the hospital.

Her Mama standing by.

(Update: Little Jaxson William Segura Saurenmann was born this morning, 3/31/10 (Day 18, at 26 weeks, 3 days) at 4:33 am. He weighed 2 lbs 5 oz. He's currently in the NICU and they're working hard to get him stable. Here is his blog.)