It was Thursday night. I had such high hopes for the evening. We had been so productive all day at our respective jobs, and already that evening working the business together. Rachel had stayed after for a concert and Keenan was his normal quiet self.
Thanks to Michelle Duggar…
Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010
See, the plight of the preemie is a quiet battle fought in a sterile environment. Instead of bombs bursting in air, there are beeps erupting from machines. Instead of camouflage, there’s scrubs. And while premature births are not the norm, they happen too often. So, I wanted to take a moment to thank a mom who will bring the cause to the spotlight, use her voice to promote awareness. (My voice is still waaaay too small.) Inspired by Mir, I’ll send out over the web, the letter I’d like to give Michelle Duggar.
Dear Michelle,
I know we’ve never met, yet I feel comfortable calling you by your first name, not because I’ve watched your show or am a huge fan, but because Josie’s untimely birth and your pregnancy made us sisters.
Toxemia is a force to be reckoned with. And I would know, I’ve fought that unconquerable foe through three pregnancies. My first pregnancy was spent in and out of the hospital with all tests coming back inconclusive until the night my blood pressure skyrocketed and I had three grand mal seizures in thirty minutes. I woke from them to discover I had been induced at 27 weeks. A blood pressure cuff would automatically register my pressure and pulse at predetermined intervals. My finger glowed from the oxygen sensor. I had three IVs, one the Pitocin drip that induced the labor, one the magnesium sulfate that prevented the connectors in my brain from firing and put an end to the seizures, but had the ugly side effect of leaving me slightly incoherent babbling about the design of the wallpaper, and the third was the standard fluids. The baby monitor on my belly recorded contractions and a fading heart beat. But I think my favorite new accoutrements were the stockings on my legs that would inflate every half hour or so to try to force the thirty odd pounds of fluids I had suddenly retained over the past twenty-four hours. In the end, though I would have done ANYTHING for a different outcome, my first baby, Emily, was stillborn the Thursday before Mother’s Day when I was 20 years old. (A Cesarean wasn’t an option since bleeding tests showed I wasn’t clotting and would most likely hemorrhage and die.)
Rachel came along just over a year later, born at 36 weeks. Who knew she would be my big baby at 5lbs 2 1/4oz. I was determined not to lose another child. Since it was a high risk pregnancy, I was on a strict low sodium diet. I spent a month on bed rest. I was hospitalized twice for my blood pressure. Only this time, it was merely labeled as toxemia. Yay! And I left the hospital with a healthy baby girl.
Keenan was my best pregnancy, but the most challenging life that began ten weeks too soon. He came into the world via emergency c-section. Premature labor was stressing his heart. And in the end, my 2lb 10oz. purple boy arrived. And that’s when I was truly put to the test.
There’s so much about premies that no one ever mentions. No one tells you that one day they could appear to be thriving, the next they are back on the warming bed, a medical mystery. No one tells you that no matter how hard you try, how much you pray, and bargain, and promise, things can still go wrong. Keenan was almost a week old before I was even allowed to hold him. Most parents take this for granted, much like they take for granted healthy normal pregnancies in our advanced civilization. No, I never gave birth and held my misshapen gooey baby. Every time, my child was whisked away before I had a chance for any contact at all. (And worse, with Keenan, it was hours before anyone would tell me if he had even lived.)
My heart goes out to you, Michelle, because I know what you are in for. I know that you will be suffering through sleepless angst filled nights as you wait for Josie to come home. I hope and pray that she never suffers from an infection in her blood stream like my son did. But if she does, I hope that the cultures quickly confirm the culprit and that it’s treatable even if it means six weeks of intravenous meds delivered nightly over a six hour period. I hope and pray that she doesn’t suffer from Retinopathy of Prematurity (ROP) like he did. But if she does, I hope you have a surgeon as caring and knowledgeable as his. Three laser surgeries later and he can see. I hope that she doesn’t suffer from a double inguinal hernia and cry from a pain you are helpless to identify until you bring her to the pediatrician. But if she does, I hope that her surgeon is as skilled as his was and leaves a barely discernible scar in her bikini area. Most of all,I hope that your large loving family understands that Josie has a weak immune system and can’t be passed around and shared like a toy. I hope they support you in the ways that you need and not only in the ways that they want.
If you don’t own one already, consider this advice, purchase a recliner. Josie may have sleep apnea issues that are best resolved by being held against your heart all night long. And being snuggled against you will not only regulate her breathing, but also her temperature. Remember that breast milk from a bottle is not a fail. The most important thing is that she get the best nutrients possible in a manner that can be measured. Trust me when I say you are already bonded. A bottle won’t change that. And please please please (yes, three pleases) don’t be too proud to rest when you need it, to nap when you can, and to accept and ask for (nay DEMAND) the help you require.
I will be thinking of you, your family, and your amazing addition. If you ever need to bond with someone who has been through it, I’m only an email away. Even though I would never wish this on anyone, I’m thrilled that someone who is a devoted, loving parent can give a voice to premature babies and their families.
Best wishes for a speedy release,
Nicki
Quick Karma:
- open yourself to all the support that is around you and in you
So, I knew to an extent what I was in for. I mean, Rachel has never been particularly fond of physicians. And with age and the growing testing, her opinion on that subject has not exactly improved. Worse, ever since the photography incident of ‘99, she has grown ever increasingly power hungry.
We’re going through some growing pains right now, me and Rachel. We’ve always been close, but for the moment, there’s a rift. And hopefully it will pass, we’ll work through it, and we’ll be back on track.
The kids and I had dinner around the console tonight. We were rushing to Keenan’s Open House at Quail Hollow Middle when the ridiculousness of the situation hit me. Rachel’s phone rang. And instead of carrying on a conversation while eating, she told the kid on the phone that she was having dinner and couldn’t talk at the moment.
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