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Less than 24 hours after leaving the hospital in Barcelona with my newborn, I was back at emergency with a leaking c-section incision. My friend came with me to speak Spanish on my behalf. (I couldn’t speak much without triggering my cough, which was crazy painful with my c-section…IYKYK). The doctor sent me home with antibiotics to treat my open incision, which seemed like a “normal, post-surgery complication.” The next day, I went back to emergency. Something was still wrong. I felt it. Another doctor checked me, and said I needed to stay positive and be patient. Okay. Agreed. I spent the next week at home going through the motions of newborn life, all while looking… grey. They told me it was from all the blood I lost from my uterine rupture, and that my colour would return soon. A week after being home, sudden heavy bleeding and a fever sent me back to emergency for the third time that week. Fortunately, I saw the same doctor from the prior weekend. “What are you doing back here,” she asked me. She was even more concerned this time, and brought in a chest & lungs doctor to hear my cough. “It’s bronchitis,” he said, “but I want to do a scan just to be sure.” After an x-ray and another CT scan of my abdomen, they found the actual problem: there was infected fluid in my abdomen that had turned into an abscess. It was likely the reason why my incision was still leaking, and why my cough wasn’t going away. I wouldn’t be going home that night. At 3am, I was admitted to the hospital again. The following two days were spent attached to IVs, breathing in medicine for my lungs, and discussing how to treat this abscess. I didn’t want another surgery - clearly my body didn’t do well with surgeries. So my doctor decided we try a drainage procedure. A tube went into my abdomen where the abscess was, and a vacuum-like effect slowly drained the fluid out. With that treatment plus the steady stream of antibiotics, I was hoping to be home by Christmas. But my blood tests were showing that my body was still fighting an infection. I didn’t know when I’d get home so I finally asked my husband to bring my toiletries, more clothes, books and snacks to keep me busy. It seemed like I’d be living in this hospital room at least for a little while longer.