Marie's Story, a tale for Mother's Day. (reprint of my article on NewsVine)
It was October, 2004. My wife had been working her ass off (literally) trying to lose the accumulated weight from 3 kids. She still looked awesome to me, but every day she was looking awesomer. (LOL) She'd been bitching and moaning about "that last 10 pounds" she wanted to lose. One night, sitting in the living room, she was on her favorite subject and I joked to her "Look on the bright side, at least you're not pregnant!"
Let me explain. Annette was a woman who didn't ovulate naturally. If she didn't take Clomid (a mild fertility drug) she would never get pregnant on her own. She'd have one ass-kicking period every 5-6 months. Anemia, three weeks of cramps, and generally hell for her. If she took birth control pills to regulate her cycle, she'd avoid the problem periods, but of course never get pregnant. So of course I knew she wasn't pregnant.
Annette got an odd look in her eye, and left the room. A few minutes later, she returned, holding "The Stick", our term for the pregnancy tests we took (a lot) when she was trying for each of the boys. (Yeah, I know "we" didn't take any tests, but that's how we looked at it). It was over 5 years old, a left over she'd run across cleaning out the medicine cabinet a few weeks earlier and hadn't tossed for some reason. She showed me the little line and said "NOW what do you have to say, wiseass?" I replied "We bought that trying for Luke. It's over 5 years old. You aren't pregnant. Monday I'll get you some new ones and prove it!" But Monday, she went to the doctor while I was at work. 4 months pregnant. Me and my big mouth had fortunately if accidentally let us discover a welcome addition a little sooner.
Each of our sons was a pain in the gut for my booful. Footling breaches who refused to turn. So each one was born C-Section. Each time, her blood pressure would slowly climb as the pregnancy progressed, higher with each succeeding child, so we made the decision that much as we'd like a little girl, it would be an adoption in a few years. No way we were going to risk her health any more for another kid. However, despite no religious compunction against it, abortion was never an option for her. Oh, if I thought the baby was going to kill her, I would have gotten insistant, but as long as the pregnancy was going fine, and we were already into the 2nd trimester, we never considered it.but through the rest of October, and through November, Annette's blood pressure slowly but steadily rose. Her OB/GYN told us she was pre-eclampsic. If she tripped over the line into eclampsia, we could lose not only the baby, but Annette, as well. By mid-November, I was getting very unhappy. Annette's health was rapidly failing. I was silently hoping she'd opt for the abortion the doctors were reluctantly recomending. At this point (23 weeks, gestationally) they told us the fetus could not survive outside the uterus. 25 to 26 weeks was minimum, and we ran grave risks of brain damage, serious eye problems, breathing problems, and other complications even then. But if we COULD hold out til that point, they could give Annette some drugs to "harden" the baby's lungs and give her an (admittedly poor, but a little better) chance of survival. Annette stood firm. ""I'm going to have this baby. I wanted a daughter, this IS a girl, but more importantly, it IS MY BABY!"
Years of experience has taught me that telling Annette "NO" was as dumb as telling a hurricane it was not permitted to blow. SO I fretted and worried, got grumpy as hell at work, and maintained a cheerful disposition (not fooling my wife!) at home. Tim McGraw's "Don't Take The Girl" would cause me to bawl like a 2 year old. Finally, her blood pressure crossed 200/150. The doctor ORDERED her to take the lung drug, wait three days for it to work, and they took this little shaved par-boiled rat-thing out of my wife. Thirteen inches long. 1 pound, 13 ounces. My hands are middling large, but if the baby's head was at my fingertips, her little butt would have still been on my palm. (I'm misting up writing this) I couldn't touch the baby. She was whisked of to the Neo-natal ICU (NICU), Annette was whisked off to try to keep HER alive, and I was a wreck. But I had 3 boys at home, her mother at home, and I had to be strong. That fucking song came on the radio as I drove home, and I had to pull over until I could see again. Did I say I was a wreck? I thought so.
Annette recovered quickly, but we faced many long months of hell with Linda Marie (Marie her regular name). The stubborn little thing extubated herself repeatedly in the incubators. Premies that small aren't supposed to be swaddled (wrapped in bedclothes) because their skin is too sensitive. But the little thing would roll over, put her arm on her breathing tube, and pull her head up, removing her tube and co-incidentally damaging her vocal cords and larynx. When she was 2 months born, she went to Strong Memorial in Rochester to have a tracheostomy performed. A month in Strong, then back to Elmira, and finally home in a couple more weeks. At 18 months, we noticed her legs were different lengths. It's called Hip Displasia, and my Mom had it too. Two surgeries and 6 months in a body cast, and that hiccup fixed.
Today, she was running around, chasing her big brother Luke (12). Her tracheostomy has been out a year and a half. Monday, she and her Mommy fly to Cincinatti Children's hospital for the next check on the progress her larynx has made. She is brilliant, beautiful, active, and healthy. No brain problems. A little tightness breathing (hence the monitoring every 6-8 months). Fast and agile legs and hips working perfectly. Her eyes are good, but since Mommy and Daddy are both in glasses (as are both of our families) she'll probably have glasses eventually. Long light brown hair. Glowing smile. Proof positive my wife is a phenomanal Mommy, and tomorrow is her day. I'll never be able to do enough to tell Annette how much I love her.
Happy Mother's Day, My Booful
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That is such a sweet article. It's so touching.
I understand your wife totally. My first an only pregnancy was twins. My girls wanted out from week 21. I took the meds for their lungs. I spent weeks on a tilt table to get Maddy's head off mycervix. Finally both mine and Maddys blood pressure started to go up. I held on longer. I ended up having them at 34 weeks, which wasn't bad and because they cooked a bit longer, they didn't have to spend long in the NICU. I wouldn't have done a thing differently.
But you are such a sweet moosh. Matt is the strong silent type (well, maybe a bit chatty). He could be a bit more of a moosh.
And what did you get for being such a moosh... a wonderful baby girl! Life is good!
Perrie,
Neale first posted this article back in May (obviously since it was for Mother's Day). What he didn't update here, but what we found out a few days later, is that the trip to Cincinnati went very well and showed that Marie has recovered excellently.
Neale! I cried when I read this. There is nothing more prescious to me than a mother and her baby. What a struggle and yet at the same time...What a gift!