My mother was not expecting me for another two and a half months. So, imagine, she is with my step grandmother.Ā They are inside a local Walmart. Just relaxing and browsing baby clothes, and other essential baby items.
My mother is even looking at little Halloween costumes designed to fit newborns. She stumbles upon a cute, little jack-o’-lantern onesie, included with an orange beanie hat that resembles the stem of the Jack-o-Lantern to match. She takes it off the rack and goes to show my step grandmother, who is browsing baby blankets. Mom holds up the baby costume in front of my step grandmother, and they both smile. My mother, looking at the adorable costume, says, “Next year.”
She walks back to the rack where she found the costume, and puts it back.
Before turning around, to head back where my step grandmother was, she gets a severe pain in her lower stomach.
She holds the lower, right side of her stomach, wincing slightly, as she continues toward my step grandmother. “You all right, Linda?” My step Grandmother asks my Mom. “Yeah. Just indigestion from your leftovers, you like to call “‘Italian cooking’.” My step grandmother gave Mom an unamused reaction before folding a white and pink striped baby blanketĀ back up that she was looking at.
My mother had a strong threshold for pain. But, when a second wave of pain hit, she wasn’t laughing it off. They had to sit down at a bench right outside the store, before trying to make it to my step grandmother’s car. “That’s it, I’m taking you to the hospital!” My step grandmother exclaimed.
My mother was definitely experiencing labor symptoms.Ā She was seen by the OBGYN on call. My mother’s OBGYN attempted to delay labor. My mother was to stay in the hospital so that she could get bed rest and try to relax. The hope was, that if she got bed rest, that her contractions would alleviate and hopefully, dissipate. They also wanted to keep an eye on my development inside my mother’s womb. However, when bed rest did not stop her contractions, they decided to give my mother medication that would hopefully slow the contractions and hopefully put them to a halt. The medication delayed my mother’s labor contractions for a few days. The OBGYN and nurses decided that my mother should continue bed rest in the hospital, even though her contractions had subsided. The doctor feared that if my mother was discharged, and she started moving around and getting more physical activity, that the early contractions would ultimately start all over again.
(Now that I am out of the womb 40 years later, I know that I have always had a sweet tooth. 🍬 Probably while I was evenĀ inside my mother’s womb! 😅)Ā I guessĀ I was too eager for Halloween. On October 20th at 11:30 p.m. 1983, I was born! I was two and a half months premature, and I weighed 2.5 lb.
To this day, I still have a scar that is very visible on my chest, on my upper, left chest area. Every time I look at my scar, it makes me curious, as it resembles a starfish! (At least I think it does. 😉)
My mother explained that the scar is from the chest tube that they put inside of me while I was in the NICU, as I was not breathing on my own. I also learned that during my delivery, the doctor had to use forceps toĀ assist with extracting me from my mother’s pelvic area. I am unsure as to why the forceps were exactly needed, as I do not have any further information on how I was positioned during the extracting process.
After I was out of the womb and in an incubator, with my chest tube in place, the doctor told both of my parents and my family that they did not think I would survive the next 48 hours. My biological father has told me that my family brought me to the hospital chapel and had me baptized. My family was preparing for the worst. However, what the doctor thought of my survival was a pessimistic estimate! And I am living proof to show for it!
When I was about 9: or 10 years old, I remember my mother stating that the reason I was in a wheelchair was the doctor’s fault. I have always thought about this as I’ve gotten older. If it was the doctor’s fault, in what way? Was it how they used the forceps that possibly caused brain damage? Should they have tried harder to try to prevent me from coming into the world 2 and half months early? And, if it was the doctor’s fault, why didn’t my parents try to sue? We will ultimately never know why I was born preterm. We will ultimately never know whose fault it was, why I have cerebral palsy, and why I was diagnosed with one of the most common, and severe types of CP.
I could write pages of the possible different outcomes, scenarios, and things that should and should not have been done to cause my CP. I could stay angry, and tell myself everyday that “I hate my Cerebral Palsy!” But all that negative talk would do nothing to improve my life. The truth is, these past 40 years I’ve been living and breathing, all I know is CP. I won’t say thatĀ I don’t wish I could be in an able-bodied person’s shoes. But my faith in God is what keeps me positive about my disability. Also, how things have changed over the course of 40 years for those with disabilities in regards to making things moreĀ accessible, and laws being passed to help those with disabilities, has made my life ultimately easier to live with a physical disability.
I am happy for the children who are born today, possibly in the same exact situation as my mother and I were. I am happy because there have been so many advances in science and medical improvements, that the risk of having Cerebral Palsy is a little lower today than it was back in 1983.
I guess for an early Halloween present to my mother Linda, on October 20th, 1983 I was a “TRICK” 🪄andĀ a “TREAT!”Ā 🍭
