I don't remember when I first discovered where new life
comes from, but it means something special to me. My story
is an involved one that begins on March 5, 1977. I was six
months pregnant and going in for my monthly prenatal checkup.
The doctor ran all the tests that he ran every month, but
this time something was different.
I was
sitting on the examination table watching the doctor go
over my test results just like always; wishing he would
hurry because my back was killing me and my legs were sticking
to the white paper that covered the table.
When
the doctor finally looked up, he had a look on his face
that stole my breath away. A look that was sad, angry, and
concerned, all at the same time. When he realized that I
was watching him, he quickly put a reassuring look on his
face. He very quietly and calmly told me that I had pre-eclampsia;
a hereditary condition that only affects pregnant women.
As the condition progresses, it gradually cuts off the baby's
food and air supply. It also slows down the baby's development.
The
longer the doctor talked, the more heartbroken I became.
I didn't look at his face while he talked. For some insane
reason, I was counting the number of tiles on the floor
as he told me all the things that could be wrong with my
baby by the time I gave birth.
What
followed during the next three months is mostly a blur.
There were endless stays in the hospital and total bed rest
on the few days that I was well enough to stay home. I had
constant nightmares about the future, all containing the
unbearably heartbreaking things that the doctor had told
me; being still born, mentally retarded, deformed, or having
a low birth weight of only 1 or 2 pounds.
There
were constant tests on the baby to see if the lungs were
developed enough for a good chance of survival if the doctor
decided to take it early. The test results always came back
negative. The longer I carried the baby, the worse my condition
got, and the more the baby's food and air supply decreased.
This
routine lasted until June 24th. When they tried to run the
tests that day the baby had moved. They couldn't get to
the amniotic fluid to test it. I knew that time was getting
short, that soon the disease would have progressed so far
that the baby's food and air supply would be completely
cut off. My water broke about 2:30 that afternoon. The waiting
and worrying was almost over. I laid in the soft yellow
labor room listening to Brahm's Lullaby playing in the background
while my mother held my hand, trying to give me courage
as my pains got stronger and the time got shorter until
my baby would be born.
The
pain was bad but not unbearable at that point. What was
worse was that I was afraid for my baby to be born. Afraid
that I wouldn't be able to love the baby if it wasn't perfect.
I felt such overwhelming guilt for my thoughts. I kept wondering
that if it came down to a choice between being retarded,
deformed, or still born, that my baby might be better off
dead
The
doctor arrived as my labor reached the last stage, and they
transferred me to the delivery room. He sat down on the
stool at my feet and said something to me, but his mask
muffled the words. I raised myself up on my elbows to ask
him to repeat himself when all at once I had this tremendous
urge to push. I felt like I was being ripped apart from
the inside. After a few moments the pain eased up enough
so that I could breathe again. II couldn't believe my ears
when the doctor told me that it was over, that I had a baby
girl.
After
a moment I heard the most wonderful sound in the world:
a tiny whimpering cry.
SHE WAS ALIVE!
In that
instant I realized that it didn't matter if she wasn't perfect.
It didn't matter about the problems we might face in the
future. My baby girl was alive! God granted me a miracle
that day. She was small and her lungs were underdeveloped,
but the doctor told me that she would be fine with time
and lots of love. I had plenty of both.
She's
12 years old now and a normal exasperating almost-teenager.
She taught me
the most important thing in my life is giving
and receiving
UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.
