Thursday, May 3, 2007

A Little History Lesson

My hubby & I met back in 1997. (Wow, nearly 10 years!) The way we met was unconventional at the time, but we fell in love. (Sounds so romantic) We moved here to Tennesssee, bought a house a year later, got married and waited to have children. When we finally made the decision to start a family, it was a little difficult. We had a miscarriage and then it took quite a while to get pregnant again. As expected, I had a difficult pregnancy. BUT, I proved them wrong and made it all the way to 34 weeks when things went haywire. I felt miserable, but kept pushing myself. By the time I got to the doctor, I was in trouble. We ended up being induced and after a long day, they ended up doing an emergency c-section (I guess I will save that whole story for another time for I feel that this contributed to my wee ones issues). She cried at first and then was quiet. After a quick glance, she was whisked off to the NICU and I did not see her until the next morning.

She was so tiny- a mere 4 lbs 3 oz. We know now that she had IUGR (intrauterine growth retardation), although no one said anything at the time. I asked questions and got vague answers. I was too sick to be able to pursue anything. I kept asking what was wrong with her left foot- it was pointed down and turned in. I was told she would be fine. She had so much trouble feeding. I would ask questions, get a quick answer and then the nurse would go over & whisper to another nurse and give us "the look". I KNOW that look. It is the look we give patients & family members when we know something is wrong, but the doc hasn't told the patient yet. It wasn't until 10 months later that I got my definitive answer as to what was wrong. Our sweet, beautiful little girl had CP (cerebral palsy). Luckily, it is mild. We got all of the things we needed in therapy and early intervention and she was doing well until just after two when things still weren't quite right. More whispering, more looks, more of "have you done this, have you explored that" from therapists. Another trip to another specialty doc and another abbreviation label- ASD (autism spectrum disorder). BLAH! MORE therapy, more work, another thing to make the future uncertain, another stressor.

The loss of a dream, the day to day grind of always needing therapy, everything turns into therapy of some sort, too much equipments, always worrying, always scrutinizing everything, so many abbreviations, so many evaluations, too many meetings....

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