Thankfully Ella was a healthy, happy baby girl when she joined our family. We left the hospital 3 days after she was born and I couldn't wait to get home to my girls and family. Given that it was my 3rd c-section in 5 years, I kind of expected to be sore and tired. After 1 week at home, I realized that the bruising I had around my incision wasn't getting any better. It was actually getting worse. I got up to take a shower and I started bleeding from my c-section. It turned out that I had a massive collection of blood that hadn't drained. For the next 7 weeks, my amazing husband had to help clean out my incision several times a day and repack it.
Ella was almost 4 months old by the time I was completely healed from her delivery. During that 4 months, we began to realize that while Ella was a smart, connected, active baby girl - she was also not responding to pain that most children would have. She didn't cry when she got her shots. She didn't cry when her sisters would drop a toy on her or when the bathwater may have been too cold. The little "mom" alarm bells were going off. Of course they were already going off because of the two older girls, so I thought that was just me being a neurotic mama.
Things were slowly moving along, I healed up and I found a good rhythm with the girls. One afternoon, Riley's therapist came to the house and she looked me in the eye and said that we needed to have a talk about the girls. I thought it was odd considering that she was only there to work with Riley, but she wanted to talk about Maggie and Ella. I remember looking at her and automatically feeling defensive. Who was she to think that she could say anything about my other kids when she was only there to work with Riley? What right did she have to say anything about what kind of mother I was? Of course she hadn't really even said anything at that point, but I was already spewing off retorts in my head to what I thought she was going to say.
I don't think I really heard anything. I was too busy having a conversation in my own head disputing anything she hadn't said yet. I vaguely remember her pointing out how it wasn't "normal" for Maggie to be almost a year old and that she wasn't sitting up on her own. Maggie wasn't feeding herself or drinking out of a cup. Maggie wasn't crawling or moving around. She kept talking about how "delayed" Maggie was and how it wasn't "normal" for Maggie to not really be "speaking" yet. Than she started to talk about Ella and her "abnormal pain response". I can remember in detail feeling this switch in my head and flashing back to doctors telling me that my daughter was "malformed".
The absolute rage going through my head and my bloodpressure flying through the roof had to have been visible to this therapist sitting across from me. I'm really surprised that she didn't run out of my house in terror. I'm sure that I wasn't the first parent that she had this conversation with. And I'm sure I'm not the first parent that flew off the handle and started screaming and cursing at her for thinking that she could cast any judgement on my children. I'm probably not the last parent that she had had that conversation with. Despite my absolute defense and rage - and despite every fiber of my being wanting to kick her out of my house - part of me knew that she was right. And that broke my heart.
I didn't want to admit to myself that there was something different about my girls. It almost feels (even today) like I have this split personality part of me. Part of me knew that my girls needed to be checked out and to see someone who could figure out what part of them wasn't working right. Part of me saw that they weren't like all the other kids in the neighborhood. Part of me saw how "little" Maggie seemed compared to where Riley had been at 1 year old. I remember watching Riley try and stand up and walk on her own when she was almost 1. I remember Riley holding cups and trying to figure out which end of the fork to eat from. I remember celebrating Riley crawling and sitting up on her own. Even with all the antibiotics and testing - Riley still met some basic developmental goals.
Maggie was almost 1 year old and wasn't sitting up. She wasn't trying to. She was barely babbling and wasn't trying to cue me to watching what she was doing. Maggie wasn't really "growing" in her development. She had to have things just so. I truly believed that every child was different. Their needs were different. Their interests and growth patterns were different. I wanted to believe that that was the case with Maggie. I felt like such a horrible mother comparing my children to each other. I didn't want to be "that mom". I didn't want to hold one child as the "standard" to another.
I didn't want to believe that my Maggie wasn't ok. I didn't want to believe that this therapist was sitting across from me seeing these challenges in my girls and I couldn't see it. I could see it. I just didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to see that Ella wasn't ok. She had already defied the odds by being born "normal". Her brain was fine. Her heart was fine. Ella had to be fine. But she wasn't. Ella wasn't fine. Ella didn't react when she got shots. Ella didn't seem to feel pain at all. She didn't seem to feel discomfort. But Ella had to be fine. In my head and in my heart Ella had to be fine. I didn't want to see it.
Even though part of me couldn't see these differences in my girls, the other part of me saw it and knew that something needed to be done. This therapist sitting across from me was telling me what i already knew. But it didn't make it any easier to see. It certainly didn't know how to take the divider between what I knew and what I could see, out. How in the hell does someone remove a part of themselves that they didn't even know where it was?
How was I supposed to handle the reality of 3 little girls with challenges? How did I end up having 3 special little girls? How was I going to raise these 3 little girls that all seemed to have higher needs? What in the hell was I supposed to do now?
This therapist kept talking through all these thoughts running through my head. I couldn't understand how she didn't see all these thoughts and fears running around. They couldn't all be in my head, but they were. She kept pulling these pamphlets and papers out of her bag like a magician pulling scarves out of his sleeve. I don't even remember what most of them were for or what she was saying. I felt like I was listening to that "mom" character in "Charlie Brown" or "The Little Muppets". "Waahhaaa, waahhahaaa, waggaawaggahhaa". They weren't words that were coming out of her mouth as much as sounds that were supposed to have meaning to them.
It felt like it was hours upon hours of her sitting there trying to convince me to do something or like she was waiting for me to confirm everything she was saying. I had checked out of that conversation long before she said she was leaving. Maybe I was staring at her like deer in a headlights or like she was speaking some foreign language, but eventually she left without whatever it was she was waiting for. And I was left with this heavy block on my chest and fear in my heart.
What in the hell was I supposed to do now?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Maternal Instincts
I've never been one to doubt my instincts when it came to my children. When I found out I was pregnant with Riley I had a dream that was so vivid that to this day I can remember every tiny detail about it. A little girl standing next to the number 1 wearing pink overalls, a white shirt with piercing blue eyes, blonde hair and white leather shoes. I knew without a doubt that I was having a baby girl that would have blue eyes, and I did. When I found out I was pregnant with Maggie I didn't have that vivid dream, but I knew that this little girl would change the way I looked at everything and she did. When I found out I was pregnant with our third child - I knew that I had no clue what in the hell I was in for and boy was I right. From the day I found out I was pregnant with our third surprise I was in a tailspin of complete and utter uncertainty.
Not only was I still learning how to be a mother and wife, I was learning how to be a grown up. I mean seriously - how many 22 - 23 year old women know how to raise 2 kids, be a military wife and live 3000 miles away from home? (it didn't help that I was the only child of a divorced irish catholic and that I had only been responsible for myself up until the day I married my husband, so yeah, i was kind of unprepared for this whole motherhood gig) I mean sure, i wanted to be a mother and I wanted to be a wife. I wanted to play house and live that whole little happy white picket fence life that most girls want to have growing up. Yeah - I so didn't get the white picket fence.
My hubby left for Iraq in September 2005, scheduled to be gone for 4 months (but of course the military always said - don't hold your breath, could be longer, evil puppet master bastards!) which of course meant that he would miss the holidays (pregnancy hormones made that WAY worse!). I can't remember what it was like when he left or the majority of that whole wonderful experience, up until the day I went in for my 20week ultrasound. I have no clue how things got scheduled the way they did or even what led up to it, but I won't forget that day. I remember laying on those uncomfortable plastic tables as the ultrasound tech squirted that horrible blue gel onto my stretchmark covered stomach. (of course it was friggin COLD!) She didn't say much, not even the usual pleasentries asking me if I wanted to know the sex or if this was my first, second, 15th pregnancy. I tried to make pleasent conversation and she actually told me to stop talking. (evil bitch!) Most that know me know that I'm not exactly a "think before I speak" type of girl - so I told her what I thought of her comment in a not so polite manner.
She then said "Mrs. Burton, I really need you to stop talking because I cannot get an accurate view of the malformation." (insert my heart hitting the floor and instant panic) Needless to say - I shut up really quick. She asked one of the other lemmings that was in the room to please go get another physician to come in and look at the "image". I don't remember alot of the next few minutes (what felt like hours) since I stopped listening at "malformation". I don't remember them wiping the goo off of my stomach or asking me to go wait in another room to speak with the "specialists". (One of the few perks of military healthcare - they have specialists for everything)
A doctor from Maternal Fetal Medicine came in with a geneticist and neonatalogist and they introduced themselves. (Can't tell you their names now, but they looked like pallbearers in my opinion) One started talking about "malformed cardiac valves and misshapen chambers". Another started talking about "vital vessels in the brain not being present" and the other started in discussing (amongst themselves mind you, not with me) all of the "viable, but time sensitive options". I can remember sitting their with this overwhelming sense of absolute abandonment. It wasn't my husbands choice to be in Iraq. It wasn't my choice to be sitting at that army hospital by myself with 2 small children. It wasn't my intention to be sitting in that room listening to the 3 stooges talk about my unborn child as if it was some form of a science experiement that they couldn't wait to diagnose. Suddenly this wave of absolute RAGE came over me and I remember sitting there and screaming at them to shut the hell up.
I don't think I can ever recall 3 doctors turning into deer in a headlight as fast as those 3 doctors did. I don't remember my exact words at the moment but it was something to the effect of "how dare you presume to think that my unborn child is a mistake?" I remember telling them that they had nothing definite to tell me other than I was having a baby girl. They couldn't tell me anything other than what they THOUGHT they saw. They sat there looking at blurry images on ultrasound pictures - not my child. I vividly remember telling them that no matter what they did or didn't find - there was no way in HELL that i would terminate my pregnancy despite their "strong recommendations" because GOD does NOT make mistakes. And that no matter what, my daughter deserved a chance at LIFE. I remember hearing one of the idiot stooges suggest that they called down a psychiatrist to come see me and I said feel free - but nothing anyone was going to say to me was going to change my mind about my daughter. At that point, I think I got up and left.
When I got back to my house, I had a voicemail from the doctors saying that they were going to call my husbands commander to suggest that they brought my husband home from Iraq to "talk some sense into me". Which they did. Not as quickly as I would have liked since I spent the next 2 days crying into my wonderful friends shoulders and spending hours upon hours researching all the horrible "malformations" that the idiots said they saw on my daughters ultrasounds. It took almost 2 weeks for my husband to come back from Iraq. During those 2 weeks Riley was admitted to the hospital for another kidney infection that developed into pneumonia. She spent 3 days in the hospital on antibiotics but thankfully was fine afterwards. I spent close to a week arguing with the idiot doctors against having an amniocentisis done. Nothing that those tests were going to show me would have changed my plan.
I knew that my latest surprise was ok. I knew that there was nothing wrong with her that would change her life. I knew that God didn't send that beautiful little girl down from heaven only to have her come into the world "malformed" and I was right. On March 24th 2006, with more doctors than I can remember in the room, Ella joined our family. Another c-section, another strange position - this time sideways. Her delivery was the hardest, longest and most dangerous of all of them. The doctors urged me to not have any more children after Ella, and I followed their recommendation. It wasn't what I wanted to do, but it was the right thing for my health.
Little did I know, that my pregnancy with Ella would be the easiest part of my journey as her mother thus far.
Not only was I still learning how to be a mother and wife, I was learning how to be a grown up. I mean seriously - how many 22 - 23 year old women know how to raise 2 kids, be a military wife and live 3000 miles away from home? (it didn't help that I was the only child of a divorced irish catholic and that I had only been responsible for myself up until the day I married my husband, so yeah, i was kind of unprepared for this whole motherhood gig) I mean sure, i wanted to be a mother and I wanted to be a wife. I wanted to play house and live that whole little happy white picket fence life that most girls want to have growing up. Yeah - I so didn't get the white picket fence.
My hubby left for Iraq in September 2005, scheduled to be gone for 4 months (but of course the military always said - don't hold your breath, could be longer, evil puppet master bastards!) which of course meant that he would miss the holidays (pregnancy hormones made that WAY worse!). I can't remember what it was like when he left or the majority of that whole wonderful experience, up until the day I went in for my 20week ultrasound. I have no clue how things got scheduled the way they did or even what led up to it, but I won't forget that day. I remember laying on those uncomfortable plastic tables as the ultrasound tech squirted that horrible blue gel onto my stretchmark covered stomach. (of course it was friggin COLD!) She didn't say much, not even the usual pleasentries asking me if I wanted to know the sex or if this was my first, second, 15th pregnancy. I tried to make pleasent conversation and she actually told me to stop talking. (evil bitch!) Most that know me know that I'm not exactly a "think before I speak" type of girl - so I told her what I thought of her comment in a not so polite manner.
She then said "Mrs. Burton, I really need you to stop talking because I cannot get an accurate view of the malformation." (insert my heart hitting the floor and instant panic) Needless to say - I shut up really quick. She asked one of the other lemmings that was in the room to please go get another physician to come in and look at the "image". I don't remember alot of the next few minutes (what felt like hours) since I stopped listening at "malformation". I don't remember them wiping the goo off of my stomach or asking me to go wait in another room to speak with the "specialists". (One of the few perks of military healthcare - they have specialists for everything)
A doctor from Maternal Fetal Medicine came in with a geneticist and neonatalogist and they introduced themselves. (Can't tell you their names now, but they looked like pallbearers in my opinion) One started talking about "malformed cardiac valves and misshapen chambers". Another started talking about "vital vessels in the brain not being present" and the other started in discussing (amongst themselves mind you, not with me) all of the "viable, but time sensitive options". I can remember sitting their with this overwhelming sense of absolute abandonment. It wasn't my husbands choice to be in Iraq. It wasn't my choice to be sitting at that army hospital by myself with 2 small children. It wasn't my intention to be sitting in that room listening to the 3 stooges talk about my unborn child as if it was some form of a science experiement that they couldn't wait to diagnose. Suddenly this wave of absolute RAGE came over me and I remember sitting there and screaming at them to shut the hell up.
I don't think I can ever recall 3 doctors turning into deer in a headlight as fast as those 3 doctors did. I don't remember my exact words at the moment but it was something to the effect of "how dare you presume to think that my unborn child is a mistake?" I remember telling them that they had nothing definite to tell me other than I was having a baby girl. They couldn't tell me anything other than what they THOUGHT they saw. They sat there looking at blurry images on ultrasound pictures - not my child. I vividly remember telling them that no matter what they did or didn't find - there was no way in HELL that i would terminate my pregnancy despite their "strong recommendations" because GOD does NOT make mistakes. And that no matter what, my daughter deserved a chance at LIFE. I remember hearing one of the idiot stooges suggest that they called down a psychiatrist to come see me and I said feel free - but nothing anyone was going to say to me was going to change my mind about my daughter. At that point, I think I got up and left.
When I got back to my house, I had a voicemail from the doctors saying that they were going to call my husbands commander to suggest that they brought my husband home from Iraq to "talk some sense into me". Which they did. Not as quickly as I would have liked since I spent the next 2 days crying into my wonderful friends shoulders and spending hours upon hours researching all the horrible "malformations" that the idiots said they saw on my daughters ultrasounds. It took almost 2 weeks for my husband to come back from Iraq. During those 2 weeks Riley was admitted to the hospital for another kidney infection that developed into pneumonia. She spent 3 days in the hospital on antibiotics but thankfully was fine afterwards. I spent close to a week arguing with the idiot doctors against having an amniocentisis done. Nothing that those tests were going to show me would have changed my plan.
I knew that my latest surprise was ok. I knew that there was nothing wrong with her that would change her life. I knew that God didn't send that beautiful little girl down from heaven only to have her come into the world "malformed" and I was right. On March 24th 2006, with more doctors than I can remember in the room, Ella joined our family. Another c-section, another strange position - this time sideways. Her delivery was the hardest, longest and most dangerous of all of them. The doctors urged me to not have any more children after Ella, and I followed their recommendation. It wasn't what I wanted to do, but it was the right thing for my health.
Little did I know, that my pregnancy with Ella would be the easiest part of my journey as her mother thus far.
4 more feet in 3 years?
In November 2004, Maggie joined our family in almost the same way her big sister did. Another c-section but this time, our little surprise decided that coming into the world butt first was more her style. I shouldn't have been surprised since just about every ultrasound Maggie was mooning the world. At first, the ultrasounds said that Maggie was actually a boy, but I think I knew in my heart that the "he" was a "she". My pregnancy was less eventful than it was with Riley. Despite the stress I had of Riley's surgery, my husband being gone for the first part of my pregnancy and moving cross country when the Air Force decided that we were going to be a west coast family - all in all it wasn't too bad. I did have high blood pressure, but no preterm contractions this time.
Maggie came into the world at 37 weeks, healthy and happy. I was able to hear her first cries and see her slimy, wrinkly little self. From the second she was born - Maggie was completely different from Riley. Riley was a daddys girl from day one. Maggie was a total Mama's girl. Riley is a mini-version of my husband. My husband has blue eyes and tan skin and so does Riley. Maggie has hazel eyes, fair skin - just like her mama. Riley didn't want anything to do with me for the first several months of her life, she only wanted her daddy. She could tolerate me - but she wouldn't breast feed or really cuddle with me the way she would her daddy. Maggie on the other hand - she camped at my boob and couldn't stand to be apart from me. Part of me loved it and drank it in like air, but the other part of me was just exhausted.
I don't know if it would be considered a mothers instinct, my I knew when I was pregnant with Maggie that something was different. I'm sure that every pregnancy is different for every woman, but I knew that something was different about her. I knew that she was coming into the world different than other kids. She had something to show me, something to teach me that I knew I was going to have to learn. (that damned hindsight struck again, friggin bastard!)
At birth, Maggie was a beautiful, calm, gentle spirit. (Unless someone tried to touch her other than me, than all hell broke loose and she was a friggin raging bull!) As long as she had her spot next to my boob and was cuddled up to me like a hot water bottle - she was a happy camper. My mom said that she was just a girl who knew what she wanted, which was great, but it was also one of those things that I knew she would have to deal with in order to grow as a person. (I know, what the hell was I worried about? She was a friggin newborn infant - she was supposed to want her mama and just want to eat, sleep and poop 24/7 right? Well, I worried, that was supposed to be my job right? RIGHT?) I don't know if it was the new military wife in me or the mom of 2 kids under age 2 thing, but I felt like i had to go into survival mode. My husband was going to have to go back to work, my mom would have to go back to North Carolina and I would have to figure out how to survive and live.
In all honesty and I'm not kidding - I truly do not remember most of Maggie's first 2 years. My life revolved around Riley's in home therapies to help her with her speech therapy and occupational therapy, her antibiotic schedules and trying to ignore this little voice inside me that was telling me that something was wrong. I truly thought that it was normal to worry constantly about my daughters and what they were and weren't doing. Add to it the upcoming deployment that my husband was heading off to (thanks Iraq!) and trying to recover from another c-section (yeah, I thought I was supposed to "bounce back! HA!) when I got the news that once again - I WAS PREGNANT! There I was getting used to have two kids ages 2 and 6mths when all of the sudden I realized that birth control didn't always work because I was pregnant again! And of course, my husband was leaving. I know I was not the first woman in the world to be faced with those challenges, but I sure as hell felt like I was.
I was 23 years old. I had 2 little girls with unique needs. I was over 3000 miles away from home. My husband was heading to Iraq for 4 months (thank you for that Air Force!) on his first deployment. But, I had to swallow the fear and deal with what was going to be my new reality. I had a 2 year old little girl who required intensive in home therapy for what we thought was just some "developmental delays due to hearing impairment and medical complications", a 6 month old little girl who was "very attached to her mama" and I was 7 weeks pregnant with another child. Little did I know how much my life would change over the next four months.
Maggie came into the world at 37 weeks, healthy and happy. I was able to hear her first cries and see her slimy, wrinkly little self. From the second she was born - Maggie was completely different from Riley. Riley was a daddys girl from day one. Maggie was a total Mama's girl. Riley is a mini-version of my husband. My husband has blue eyes and tan skin and so does Riley. Maggie has hazel eyes, fair skin - just like her mama. Riley didn't want anything to do with me for the first several months of her life, she only wanted her daddy. She could tolerate me - but she wouldn't breast feed or really cuddle with me the way she would her daddy. Maggie on the other hand - she camped at my boob and couldn't stand to be apart from me. Part of me loved it and drank it in like air, but the other part of me was just exhausted.
I don't know if it would be considered a mothers instinct, my I knew when I was pregnant with Maggie that something was different. I'm sure that every pregnancy is different for every woman, but I knew that something was different about her. I knew that she was coming into the world different than other kids. She had something to show me, something to teach me that I knew I was going to have to learn. (that damned hindsight struck again, friggin bastard!)
At birth, Maggie was a beautiful, calm, gentle spirit. (Unless someone tried to touch her other than me, than all hell broke loose and she was a friggin raging bull!) As long as she had her spot next to my boob and was cuddled up to me like a hot water bottle - she was a happy camper. My mom said that she was just a girl who knew what she wanted, which was great, but it was also one of those things that I knew she would have to deal with in order to grow as a person. (I know, what the hell was I worried about? She was a friggin newborn infant - she was supposed to want her mama and just want to eat, sleep and poop 24/7 right? Well, I worried, that was supposed to be my job right? RIGHT?) I don't know if it was the new military wife in me or the mom of 2 kids under age 2 thing, but I felt like i had to go into survival mode. My husband was going to have to go back to work, my mom would have to go back to North Carolina and I would have to figure out how to survive and live.
In all honesty and I'm not kidding - I truly do not remember most of Maggie's first 2 years. My life revolved around Riley's in home therapies to help her with her speech therapy and occupational therapy, her antibiotic schedules and trying to ignore this little voice inside me that was telling me that something was wrong. I truly thought that it was normal to worry constantly about my daughters and what they were and weren't doing. Add to it the upcoming deployment that my husband was heading off to (thanks Iraq!) and trying to recover from another c-section (yeah, I thought I was supposed to "bounce back! HA!) when I got the news that once again - I WAS PREGNANT! There I was getting used to have two kids ages 2 and 6mths when all of the sudden I realized that birth control didn't always work because I was pregnant again! And of course, my husband was leaving. I know I was not the first woman in the world to be faced with those challenges, but I sure as hell felt like I was.
I was 23 years old. I had 2 little girls with unique needs. I was over 3000 miles away from home. My husband was heading to Iraq for 4 months (thank you for that Air Force!) on his first deployment. But, I had to swallow the fear and deal with what was going to be my new reality. I had a 2 year old little girl who required intensive in home therapy for what we thought was just some "developmental delays due to hearing impairment and medical complications", a 6 month old little girl who was "very attached to her mama" and I was 7 weeks pregnant with another child. Little did I know how much my life would change over the next four months.
This isn't what I thought it would be
I never expected to have a child before I was legally able to drink. Hell, I never expected to be married before I was even in my 20's. But, when it hits you between the eyes, you really can't turn away from it. When I saw my other half in a dorm in college sitting on a bed, I knew he was it for me. That was almost 10 years ago. We didn't date that long, but what we knew was real is real even after all these years with all these challenging puzzles.
Shortly after we were married in January 2002, we found out we were expecting our first little surprise. We had left the window open to surprises after we got married, but we didn't expect someone to come through the window so quickly. All in all, my pregnancy wasn't terrible and it wasn't perfect. Our surprise made things exciting when I was about 20 weeks pregnant when I went into preterm labor. I was like most expectant moms would be - panicked. I was terrified of the medications they were giving me and the restrictions they put me on. I knew how early it was and how dangerous it would have been if they hadn't been able to stop my contractions. Thankfully with heroic doses of medications and lots and lots of fluids - they were able to stop my labor.
To this day I think that that experience prepared me for the wonderful adventure that would be the rest of my pregnancy with our first little surprise.Lots of ultrasounds and doctor visits confirmed that we were expecting a little girl who refused to assume the "traditional" position. Instead she decided that coming into the world feet first was more her style. Go figure! It wasn't much longer when we welcomed our first daughter into the world - at 36 weeks. Even my "going into labor" experience was very surprising. I went in for my 36week visit and while they were "checking" me - we found out that I was 2 centimeter's dialated with her big toe sticking out of my cervix. So, on December 30 2002 - we welcomed Riley into the world at 6lbs, 11oz via c-section.
I wasn't at all happy about having to have a c-section for my first delivery. But having a footling breech delivery wasn't possible and I was so young I didn't know that I had a choice. Hindsight is 20/20 right? Anyway - I was prepped and they wheeled me into the OR to "get the show on the road" (according to my way to eager to cut OB). The docs placed my "spinal" (to numb me up but allow me to stay awake) and they laid me back on the table - it didn't work. I could still feel the docs touch my skin and pinch and things that I shouldn't have been able to feel. And before I could say anything - they put me to sleep. My husband was there and he did fill me in on all the details that he could remember - but I don't remember my daughters first cries or what she looked like. My husband, my mother, father in law, mother in law, sister in law - all held my daughter before I did. That's not something any mother can really ever come to grips with.
That was the beginning of a very unique journey with our first puzzle.She spent the first 6 months of her life being tested for more things than I can remember. Most new mom's deal with colic, jaundice, sleepless nights, nursing and feeding problems, overbearing moms with too many suggestions and too few showers. I was dealing with pneumonia, antibiotic schedules, MRI's, CAT Scans, VCUG's and ultrasounds. Before Riley was 1, she was diagnosed with grade 2 urinary reflux w/ kidney complications. Riley's surgery was one of the most terrifying experiences in my life. At the time, my husband was in Texas in his last week of basic training for the United States Air Force. Most of my inlawed family went to Texas for his graduation and my mom stayed behind with me in North Carolina to take care of Riley while she was recovering.
We knew when Riley had her surgery that she also had some hearing complications and sensory issues. At the time, those were the least of my concerns. I was more concerned about her kidneys and the long term damage that was being done to them by the repeat infections that she was having despite the massive doses of antibiotics she was taking on a daily basis. When she started having bad reactions to the milk I transitioned her to, the doctors thought she was just reacting to the lactose, so they switched her to lactose free milk. Hindsight sucks. That old saying of "if I knew then what I know now, I would have done things differently" - I hate that saying.
Flashforward a few years and 2 more baby girls and the word that strangely changed our lives - Autism.
Shortly after we were married in January 2002, we found out we were expecting our first little surprise. We had left the window open to surprises after we got married, but we didn't expect someone to come through the window so quickly. All in all, my pregnancy wasn't terrible and it wasn't perfect. Our surprise made things exciting when I was about 20 weeks pregnant when I went into preterm labor. I was like most expectant moms would be - panicked. I was terrified of the medications they were giving me and the restrictions they put me on. I knew how early it was and how dangerous it would have been if they hadn't been able to stop my contractions. Thankfully with heroic doses of medications and lots and lots of fluids - they were able to stop my labor.
To this day I think that that experience prepared me for the wonderful adventure that would be the rest of my pregnancy with our first little surprise.Lots of ultrasounds and doctor visits confirmed that we were expecting a little girl who refused to assume the "traditional" position. Instead she decided that coming into the world feet first was more her style. Go figure! It wasn't much longer when we welcomed our first daughter into the world - at 36 weeks. Even my "going into labor" experience was very surprising. I went in for my 36week visit and while they were "checking" me - we found out that I was 2 centimeter's dialated with her big toe sticking out of my cervix. So, on December 30 2002 - we welcomed Riley into the world at 6lbs, 11oz via c-section.
I wasn't at all happy about having to have a c-section for my first delivery. But having a footling breech delivery wasn't possible and I was so young I didn't know that I had a choice. Hindsight is 20/20 right? Anyway - I was prepped and they wheeled me into the OR to "get the show on the road" (according to my way to eager to cut OB). The docs placed my "spinal" (to numb me up but allow me to stay awake) and they laid me back on the table - it didn't work. I could still feel the docs touch my skin and pinch and things that I shouldn't have been able to feel. And before I could say anything - they put me to sleep. My husband was there and he did fill me in on all the details that he could remember - but I don't remember my daughters first cries or what she looked like. My husband, my mother, father in law, mother in law, sister in law - all held my daughter before I did. That's not something any mother can really ever come to grips with.
That was the beginning of a very unique journey with our first puzzle.She spent the first 6 months of her life being tested for more things than I can remember. Most new mom's deal with colic, jaundice, sleepless nights, nursing and feeding problems, overbearing moms with too many suggestions and too few showers. I was dealing with pneumonia, antibiotic schedules, MRI's, CAT Scans, VCUG's and ultrasounds. Before Riley was 1, she was diagnosed with grade 2 urinary reflux w/ kidney complications. Riley's surgery was one of the most terrifying experiences in my life. At the time, my husband was in Texas in his last week of basic training for the United States Air Force. Most of my inlawed family went to Texas for his graduation and my mom stayed behind with me in North Carolina to take care of Riley while she was recovering.
We knew when Riley had her surgery that she also had some hearing complications and sensory issues. At the time, those were the least of my concerns. I was more concerned about her kidneys and the long term damage that was being done to them by the repeat infections that she was having despite the massive doses of antibiotics she was taking on a daily basis. When she started having bad reactions to the milk I transitioned her to, the doctors thought she was just reacting to the lactose, so they switched her to lactose free milk. Hindsight sucks. That old saying of "if I knew then what I know now, I would have done things differently" - I hate that saying.
Flashforward a few years and 2 more baby girls and the word that strangely changed our lives - Autism.
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