When my uterus ruptured it was obviously a very serious medical emergency. I tend to be a mother hen, and even in the condition I was in, I was still worried about how my family members would take the news. Would they be OK?
My grandma was in the hosptial at the time with a heart problem. We were all worried that the news would (seriously) kill her. My mom waited a day to tell her, and then told her before she got discharged from the hospital because she was worried the news would make Grandma panic, and possibly cause her complications. Of course she was upset. We've always been close, and she was so excited to be having another great-grandbaby. (I never told her we planned on giving Brenna the middle name Louise, which is Grandma's middle name.) She took the news better than we expected, and she called me at the hospital. I was 50 miles away, so she couldn't come see me, but once she knew I was OK she felt better.
One of the other people I worried about was my youngest brother. He is a lot younger than I am, so I have always considered myself a second mom to him. I knew that this was going to affect him deeply. He worked third shift and couldn't come see me until Friday. He spent almost the whole day at the hospital. I could tell that he was very concerned, and that he was really hurting. He is very close with my son, and I knew that he was really excited about me having another baby. I also guessed that he was feeling guilty (even though he shouldn't have) because a few days before he had told me that he hoped I didn't have a girl because he wanted another nephew. Then she died, and you don't have to be Einstein to know that he was thinking about what he said to me. I showed her picture to him, and we talked about her, but really there wasn't anything I could do to make him feel better.
I was worried about him when he left. He has a history of drinking too much when he is in pain. When he said that he was going out that night I had a terrible feeling. It was confirmed the next day. I went home on Saturday. I can't remember if my mom told me Saturday or Sunday, but she called me and said, "I don't want to tell you this, but I know you'll be mad if I don't. J is in jail." I knew right away it was because he had gotten drunk the night before. I just knew it.
I won't go into details, but I will tell you he ended up getting tasered. He was on probation for a year and had to take alcohol classes and got to AA. It wasn't until nine months later that he finally admitted to me that at least part of the reason he drank so much that night was because he couldn't stop thinking about me dying. He had to go before the judge, and he was honest and told the judge what happened to me and that he didn't think he handled his feelings in the right way.
He's off probation now. He also has stopped drinking. I was suprised that he didn't even drink one beer on the 4th of July. (He even took my son home with him so JJ and I could go out!) He said it's just not worth it, and that he's found that when he's upset all it does is make things worse. I was really proud of him because I know how hard it's been for him. Especially in a family when no one else has a problem with alcohol. (He has a different biological father, and I honestly think it's genetic. There is alcoholism in that side of the family.) I know it's not an easy thing to admit to, and it's an even harder thing to do.
I like to think of that as at least one positive thing that's happened because of Brenna.