I first
wrote the essay/post below on Mother's Day two years ago. I won’t be peeling potatoes today; my then-four-year-old is now six and getting his first adult tooth. My
then-toddler is now three and is full of life and sparkle. The fluttering fetus
in the story is now a lovely little toddler who brightens our days. What
remains the same is that none of this beauty would be possible were it not for
earlier pain. The rarest of gems are formed through the application of pressure
over time, and as difficult as things can sometimes be, the wonder that awaits us
is worth struggle. I hope those of you who have read this before don’t mind the
repeat, and those who find it new enjoy it. Happy Mother’s Day to all.
This
Mother’s Day (May 2010) I had the great pleasure of peeling fourteen potatoes
while my four-year-old chopped them and put them in a pan of water so we could
boil them. Now, I don’t normally love peeling potatoes. It would generally be a
perfect punishment, but the company was excellent and the conversation
delightful. In the midst of it, I was struck by how very lovely my life is. My
husband was outside in our yard playing with the toddler, I was happily engaged
in conversation and work with the pre-schooler, and I could feel the fetus
fluttering away inside of me.
The thing is, this day could very easily not have happened, or
at least not like this. I was diagnosed with Lupus when I was ten years old. It took
them three long years to figure out why my kidneys and joints seemed to not
want to function properly. When I was younger, I hated the Lupus. I felt like
it took me from me. I wasn’t allowed to run and play as often; I spent over
half the year in hospitals away from my friends and siblings. I took
medications that made me feel awful, stunted my growth, and made me fat. I
wasn’t healthy enough to be medication-free until close to the end of my
freshman year in high school. I felt like the Lupus had robbed me of my
childhood and early adolescence. As I grew older and the remission lasted, I
came to terms with the Lupus. It had helped mold me into the person I was, and I
liked that person, so it was what it was. Then, in March of 2006, something
happened that I never would have thought possible. I became eternally grateful
for the Lupus.
Despite the fact that I have been in remission my entire adult
life, my pregnancies are considered high-risk. With the first, I was very
carefully monitored, which I didn’t really mind. I received extra ultrasounds,
and the non-stress tests were comforting, if a bit boring. I was able to hear my
baby’s heart galloping along while I waited for movement, so I could press the
button to record it. The pregnancy itself was perfectly routine and healthy. I
was healthier and happier than ever. The baby seemed to be perfect. There were
no problems. Without the Lupus hanging over my medical history, I never would
have needed the non-stress tests, and things would have gone horribly, horribly
wrong.
For those of you who don’t know my oldest child’s birth story,
my husband was on his spring break and came along to my 37 week appointment. We were
planning on going out to lunch followed by a movie. I knew the baby
was transverse and/or breech (he was flipping between the two), so I wasn’t
going into labor that day. As a matter of fact, the plan was to schedule a version
for my 38 week appointment. . .
After the visit with the doctor, who was awesome, we went back for
the NST. It seemed to be taking longer than usual. They had me drink some juice
to get things moving. Then the doctor came in to chat with my husband and me. They
wanted to send us over to Labor & Delivery triage for monitoring. The baby’s heart rate
was decreasing when it should be increasing. I’d need an ultrasound. We walked
across the bridge to the hospital. It seemed the umbilical cord was pooled
under his head and any time he tried to move he compressed it, which is what
was causing the decrease in heart rate. Since I was already considered
full-term, and while the situation was not emergent in that I didn’t need to be
rushed to the OR posthaste, it was time, for the good of the baby, to deliver
him.
I had really wanted an all-natural birth, but I was pretty
philosophical about not having one if it meant better things for the baby. We
called our friends and family to tell them that today was the day and to beg
assistance from them/impose upon them: Could they get into our house and finish
packing the suitcase that was on the bed (we had planned on finishing that
after our date)? Could someone bring a camera? etc. etc. I was wheeled into the
OR and had a very routine c-section. As we had chosen not to find out the sex
of the baby until birth, the doctor delivered our breech son and held up the proof
of his sex while asking my spouse if he knew what those were. My husband told
me we had a son, and we immediately named him. Then, he didn’t cry. They
whisked him away while I was stitched up, with the doctor doing her best to calm us
while looking a bit anxious herself. Soon enough we heard the cry we had been
awaiting. Relief flooded the room and joking commenced. My husband went back to
see our son and then returned. They briefly brought the baby to us. He needed
to go to the NICU. He needed CPAP and a blood transfusion. He had aspirated
meconium and was severely anemic. That brief little hug was the closest I was
to get to holding my son for a day and a half. I could touch him, but not hold
him. It was agonizing. I do not know how mothers who have children who are in
incubators do it.
To this day, there is no diagnosis behind the acute anemia my
eldest suffered at birth. We do know that it was not related to my Lupus, and
that he is perfectly healthy and as normal as any child of ours has a hope of
being. What I also know is that without the Lupus I would not have been
receiving the non-stress tests. My sweet boy could not have survived without a
blood transfusion much longer due to the severity of his anemia. Would I have
listened to my mommy instincts telling me that his movements had changed, which
they had, and called my OB in time to save him? I don’t know. What I do know
is that it didn’t come to that. My Lupus saved my baby. I would give my
childhood a million times over so I could be a part of his. For this gift, I am
eternally grateful. My Lupus may have made so many things so much harder than
they needed to be, but it gave me today. It gave me this life, and I couldn’t
ask for anything sweeter.
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