For the love of strangers

I made another trip to Ohio last week because my daughter’s pregnancy required emergency surgery to save my unborn grandson.

My daughter Sydney went in for a routine appointment and they discovered from an ultrasound that the baby’s feet were hanging out of her cervix. She was basically going into early labor with no indicators but since they were able to catch it, they went into full mode to save the baby.

Since she was only 19 weeks pregnant, a rescue cerclage was done and the doctors were able to place the baby higher up, along with the membrane sack. After a two hour surgery, the specialist was confident she’d stopped Sydney’s labor but said only time would tell if the baby would stay in long enough to be viable.

The specialist was most worried about Sydney contracting an infection or already having one, so she had to undergo an amniocentesis and do rounds of antibiotics. She also had to stay awake during the procedure because putting her under would have slowed the baby’s heart rate down. It was a trying week but with rest and prayer, Sydney was finally able to come home from the hospital.

For those of you wondering, yes, my ex-husband went with me once again. He didn’t get on my nerves until the ride home because he wanted to stop and try the stupid SkyLine chili that Cincinnati, Ohio is famous for. I dropped him off in the parking lot and drove to McDonald’s drive-thru. By the time we got back to Arkansas in the vehicle I had rented for the trip, the smell of the chili was making me nauseous.

I took him back to Vian before returning the vehicle because I still had to unload and clean it out. I was also able to bring back the luggage I’d forgotten on the first trip so I had twice as much stuff. My mind was all over the place and I hadn’t had much time to think about what had happened in the past week. I’d tried to keep positive because God had blessed us.

As I pulled out of the airport from dropping off the rental, I realized the ticket they gave me for parking was not in my purse. The attendant told me I would have to pay for a lost ticket and for some reason, I lost it. I cried and explained the situation but told her I’d be happy to pay for any extra fees.

The attendant told me she would figure it out and not to worry. She said her dad had passed away about a week before and she was having a hard time, too. We took the opportunity to talk and pray for each other, and did so for close to 20 minutes. I told her I was sorry for losing the ticket and she told me not to worry. When other customers needed her, I drove off while still voicing my thankfulness for her help.

It was then that I saw something in the corner of my eye. It was the presumed lost parking ticket that I thought was in my purse. I was too embarrassed to go back and tell the attendant so I blamed my ex-husband for putting the ticket on the dash in plain view where I “couldn’t” see it.

When I returned to work the next day, one of my co-workers asked why my ex-husband had gotten on my nerves so bad. My only answer was, “he was breathing.”

And how was your week?