While the story was related to us in terms of birth, it could also be applied to several other real-life scenarios. Like the character, my unexpected hospital stay was testing my character and strength in ways I had never imagined. A seven-year American expat living in İstanbul, I felt as though I had been in several situations that had given me much to learn from. My Turkish husband, Can, and I had been through a lot together. Now, nine months pregnant and hospitalized with severe food poisoning, our mettle was truly tested. Could our relationship survive this stress? We were about to find out.I had been hospitalized a few hours earlier with a nasty bout of food poisoning. I had lost a lot of fluid and was attached to an IV drip to try and re-hydrate me. I was also leaking fluid, and the doctors and nurses were concerned that I might be leaking amniotic fluid, and were doing a few litmus tests to find out. Every hour I also had a belt of Velcro belted around my belly, with a machine attached that would record the baby’s heart rate and print it out. This, inappropriately, was called a “Non-Stress Test,” or NST for short. I found this machine to be a major cause of stress, as the baby’s pulse was loudly broadcast from speakers which made me all the more nervous when I would hear the pulse accelerating. My doctor had said that if the baby’s heart rate did not settle down, they were going to have to perform an emergency cesarean that day. My doctor wanted to wait until it was absolutely necessary because my body was so weak and I was still ill.
Can was not handling the situation well. He had been angry with me since we left the house, blaming me for eating something stupid that got us into this mess. I knew that Can was frustrated because he was helpless. Still, I needed him and he was not supporting me in the way that I thought he would. I needed someone to hold my hand during the NST, to calm me down so that the baby’s heart rate would in turn maybe relax. Instead, Can just glowered at me from across the room. My in-laws live on the same street as the hospital, and Can called them to tell them about our situation, as well as to ask them to bring some essentials since it looked like we would spend a few days in the hospital. For reasons I still am not sure about, Can’s mom insisted that Can come to her house and pick her up. I tried not to be irritated. Everyone knew that she had walked to this hospital often enough when she had a doctor’s appointment. Why was she insisting that Can leave my side at this critical time? Too tired to care, I just waved Can out of the room.
In Turkey, very few hospital patients are left alone. Generally speaking, a relative or close acquaintance is almost always bedside, assisting the patient to the bathroom, with eating, or just keeping watch or company. This was a big help to the nursing staff. Many hospitals also serve that person a meal along with the sick person. For Can to leave me alone was culturally abnormal, which the nurse didn’t hesitate to point out when she came to check on me. Worried, she put the call button near my hand, and gave me my cell phone. As minutes turned into an hour, tears squeezed from between my lids as I seriously wondered if Can had abandoned me. I called my mom in the US and updated her as to what was going on. As usual, she helped put things in perspective. She reminded me that she thought my own father was useless in the delivery room when I was born. She said that men have a hard time dealing with these situations, and that unfortunately we women just have to be strong. I silently wondered if I could forgive Can for this.
I hung up as the nurse entered the room with the dreaded NST. This would be the last one, she informed me. If the heart rate was still elevated, they would take me to the operating room in a matter of minutes. Can was still nowhere to be found. I did not call him. If he missed this, I calmly vowed to divorce him the day I was released from the hospital. They wrapped the device around my abdomen, and I closed my eyes and focused on breathing, as if I was in my yoga class. I tried to put my mind elsewhere, and I could sense that the heart rate was slowing. In a half sleep, I felt Can enter the room. Behind him was his mother, who immediately started firing a million questions my way. I looked at the nurse and begged her in Turkish to remove my mother-in-law from the room until the NST was done. To Can’s chagrin, she complied. “You’re always so rude!” Can exclaimed. I exhaled and pictured myself signing divorce papers. I did not respond, but kept the focus on my breath. After 20 minutes, the nurse phoned my doctor, who said that for today at least, he would not perform a cesarean. But I would need to stay in the hospital for two days to build up my strength and so they could monitor the baby.
Once everything was fine I welcomed Can’s family to my room and answered their questions. I asked why Can had taken over an hour to come back, and they told me they all had a nice breakfast together. I just smiled frostily. There would be hell to pay for this, but it wouldn’t be now. I owed it to my baby to stay calm right now. Can, for his part, pretended like nothing was wrong between us and that we were fine. Like a light switch that someone had clicked on, he suddenly became the helpful, attentive, man that I had married. His parents left after a few hours and Can and I settled in for the night. In a quiet voice I asked Can why he left me for so long, and he responded that he needed some fresh air and some time to think. When asked what he would have done had he returned and I was down in the OR, he looked worried. “I didn’t want to think about it,” he said, squeezing my hand. While we seemed to have weathered this storm, it had left behind a lot of damage to our relationship. I buried this anger deep, but knew that it would be only a matter of time before I would blow up. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Can had failed me. As an expat with no family nearby, this was a big deal breaker for me. Could our relationship overcome this?
