Tag Archives: baby

Stop picking her apart!

1 Feb

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.

Delicious Ambiguity.”

― Gilda Radner

Driving home from Dr. Hyun’s office that day my brain felt like it had shifted into overdrive. I was calling all of the doctor offices and the medical center trying to schedule Oli for her appointments, MRI and lab draw. Flipping through my appointment calendar I remembered that I also had to call Nevada Early Intervention Services and schedule an appointment with them. NEIS serves the special needs children in the Las Vegas and surrounding areas that are under the age of 3. After age 3 the children transition into the school district.

No one had recommended that I call NEIS. I just happened to remember referring some of my patients to them while reading off their discharge instructions.

I’m thankful that I knew of them and knew that they might be able to offer us some help. To be honest, I didn’t know exactly what they did. I just knew that when I had a patient going home that might have some developmental delays we told them to call NEIS.

A woman from the front office answered my call and set up an evaluation for the following week. She told me to bring Oliana to the appointment and they would look at her and decide which services she would benefit from.

I hung up the phone and was proud of myself for finally doing something for her instead of just worrying about all of the things that I couldn’t do.

Later that day a woman I worked with contacted me and offered to come out to my house to look at Oli. She was a neonatal nurse practitioner in the NICU I worked at and she also occasionally worked with the pediatric genetic doctor in Las Vegas. She told me that if she came out and did her own evaluation of Oli she might be able to submit it to the doctor and get her in earlier than the 6-9 months that we were told. I was more than happy to comply.

When she came out to the house she began the physical exam. She laid Oli down on a small flowered blanket and began measuring every inch of her body with a little fabric measuring tape. I was not prepared for the onslaught of abnormalities that were revealed to me during that evaluation.

Her little ears were too floppy.

Her eyes were too far apart.

Her eye brows were not level.

The bridge of her petite nose was too wide.

Her nipples were too far apart.

The space between her delicate fingers was too wide. (What? Why does that even matter?)

Her peach fuzz covered head was too small.

Her physical tone was too weak.

The list went on and on….

I just wanted to scream at her.

Stop! Stop! I don’t want to hear any more!

This is my child! My perfect little angel and you are picking her apart!

What child could possibly measure perfectly according to your standards?

Please, just stop!

Leave my baby alone!

But she didn’t stop because I couldn’t yell any of those things. I just let her continue until she was finished and I was completely defeated.

Then she got into her car and left and I picked Oli up and cried.

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The doctors opinion

1 Feb

“One person’s craziness is another person’s reality.”

― Tim Burton

Continuing on our scavenger hunt, the woman from the blind foundation gave us another name. A pediatricians name. Oli had already seen one since leaving the hospital, but we were not impressed.

The opthamologist told us to make sure that Oli’s pediatrician drew labs to check her pituitary gland. She told us that she knew kids with microphthalmia commonly had abnormal pituitary glands and that it was imperative to check the labs.

Her first pediatrician just blew me off with an annoyed look when I asked for the labs to be drawn. Apparently this was a common attitude with this particular group of pediatricians.

Don’t we need to check her pituitary labs to make sure she doesn’t need medication? Don’t we need to check her growth hormone?

No. We don’t need to check them right now. We’ll just watch her and see what happens.

Watch and see what happens? She’s not a science experiment or an action movie! I don’t want to just watch and see what happens! I want answers!

We will just wait until after you see the geneticist and see what she says. I’ll wait for her recommendations.

There was only one pediatric genetic doctor for the entire Las Vegas valley. The waiting list to see her was 6-9 months long.

Don’t you think we at least need to do an MRI to take a better look at her brain? Don’t you need to draw chromosomes? I’m sure the geneticist will want chromosomes drawn. What about her kidneys? The doctors at the hospital said that you should refer us to recheck her kidneys.

No. I’m not going to order any tests.

By this point she was really annoyed with me for questioning her. She knew, that I knew, that she was uncomfortable taking care of Oli. She had no idea what to do for her.

I left that appointment feeling frustrated and bewildered that a doctor wouldn’t want to look further into what was going on with my daughter. Why didn’t she want to help her? Now what?

Then we went to the open house at the blind foundation and received the name of the perfect pediatrician for us and for Oli.

Dr. Rosemary Hyun.

The day of Oli’s first appointment she came in the room and sat down.

How are you doing?

(You can guess my answer.)

I’m fine. Thank you.

I’m glad that you were able to meet another family with a child like Oliana.

Yes. The mother of the boy gave us your name. We weren’t very comfortable with Oli continuing to see the first pediatrician we scheduled.

I’m glad you’re here. Let me just take a quick look at her and then we will discuss what tests need to be ordered and if there are any additional things you want ordered.

She was asking my opinion? Really?

I was so surprised. This doctor was actually considering what we needed as her parents. She was thinking like a parent herself. What would she want to know if it was her child. I probably don’t even need to say this but, for a doctor, this quality is very rare.

After she looked over Oli carefully she began to write down a list of tests and labs to be ordered. She asked us if we needed anything else. Then she handed us the slip of paper detailing everything that she had ordered.

Cardiologist appointment for an echo.

Endocrinologist appointment for labs.

Urologist appointment for her kidneys.

MRI of her brain.

Lab appointment to draw her chromosomes.

A follow up appointment with her.

A referral for the geneticist.

It seemed like an overwhelming amount of appointments. Especially, since I was used to seeing the doctor only once every 3-6 months with my son.

But I needed answers.

As I walked out of her office a startling realization hit me.

Was this how the families of my patients in the NICU felt when I sent them home?

When I discharged them from the hospital with a list of appointments, doctor names, medications, medical equipment, and specific feeding times.

Was this how they felt when I carried their baby through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, handed them the car seat and 15 plastic hospital bags containing all of the things they needed to keep their child alive and said “Good luck”!

My experience with Oli began to give me a whole different perspective and a new found respect for the families of my NICU babies.

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Will she forgive me?

30 Jan

“The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward.”

― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

I wasted so much time at the beginning of Oliana’s life wishing and praying that things would change.

I wished that we could find the right doctor for her. I wished that she had been born without a disability. I wished it was easier.

I prayed that God would let her have some vision and that nothing else was wrong with her. I prayed that she would not be significantly delayed.

I prayed that I could just accept her as she was.

One by one, as these wishes failed to come true and my prayers were left unanswered, I became angry.
I was angry at my friends and family for not understanding what I was going through. I was angry at the doctors for continuing to give me bad news. I was angry at God for thinking that I could handle this.

I was so angry at God.

What did I do to deserve this?

I felt like I was being punished.

Much later I realized that I was feeling sorry for myself. I was being selfish and turning Oliana’s disability around and making it about me.

The angrier I became, the more I began to detach myself. I started pushing everyone who cared about me away.

I would often think, why can’t they just understand how hard this is?

As we continued to receive disheartening news about Oliana’s condition, I spiraled deeper and deeper into a vortex of anger and despair.

The things I felt during those dark days are very hard for me to admit to now. I wanted to be okay with who she was back then. But the truth is, I just wasn’t.

I know that I am going to have a very hard time as my children grow older and want to read this. I never want them to look at me and think that I didn’t love Oli because I wanted to change her. These two things seem like they can’t co-exist but, in my life they did. I did want to change her. I also loved her. It just wasn’t easy.

As I continue to write this, the hardest questions of all are:

How will I read this to Oli?

Will she understand?

Will she forgive me?

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As long as nothing else is wrong…

29 Jan

“Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is daily admission of one’s weakness. It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.”

― Mahatma Gandhi

As we left the Nevada Blind Children’s Foundation that day I felt a little less alone. I finally met someone who knew what microphthalmia was. I still didn’t know what this would mean to my daughter but, I began to have that tiny seed of hope again.

The woman from the foundation told me that even though her son had bilateral microphthalmia and the doctors told them that he would be totally blind, he was actually able to see a little bit of red light. So maybe that was a possibility for Oli. Maybe she wouldn’t live in complete and total darkness. Maybe if I began to pray hard enough she would be given the gift of having some kind of light perception.

I began to once again direct my prayers toward Oliana having vision.

I didn’t realize then, that praying for someone to be given something, is not really how the whole prayer thing works. Although I was praying for her to have some sight, part of me was really praying for an easier life for myself. If she could see something, anything really, it would probably make this whole thing easier.

If she could see something she wouldn’t be among the small percentage of people who are totally blind. That small percentage that I had read about, many of whom are illiterate and unemployed. And if she wasn’t completely blind, I could probably still force her to fit into my little box of perfection.

As long as nothing else was wrong.

Many times I also prayed “God if she is going to be blind, let her just be blind. Please don’t let anything else be wrong.”

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She asked if she could see my baby.

29 Jan

“When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.”

― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can’t Avoid

Seth and I decided to go to the Nevada Blind Children’s Foundation open house. I was nervous about taking Oli out anywhere besides the doctor. I didn’t want people staring at her or asking me questions about her eyes. I didn’t want to have to start explaining my baby to people. She was only a week old.

We had to make the trip though. We didn’t have any other place to go. I needed to talk to another parent about what it was like to raise a blind child.

The open house was in Las Vegas. I tried to prepare myself on the hour long drive there. I didn’t want a lot of people looking at her or touching her. She was so small and I felt that fierce need to protect her like I had my son. I brought my baby sling to put her in.

I brought it because I knew that it was the best way to hide her from the world.

If I could only hide her for a little while longer… maybe eventually I would be ready for the world to meet her. Right now, I just wanted to get in, ask my questions, learn the secrete language or hand shake or whatever it was that I needed to learn in order to live this life and function normally.

I really thought that these people would give me the magical keys to my new life. I thought they would open the door for me. After all I was now part of their club. I had a child that was blind. I thought they would just sit me down and explain it all.

It didn’t happen that way.

They were very nice. They told me their son was 3 and had bilateral microphthalmia. I remember that I really wanted to meet him. I wanted to be able to picture what Oli would be like in 3 years. I wanted to see what his eyes looked like. I thought that because Oli had the same condition as him they would be very similar. I thought all kids with the same diagnosis were similar. Obviously there was so much that I didn’t know. I was disappointed when they told me that their son wasn’t there.

The mother of the little boy approached me.

“How are you doing?” she asks me.

Of course I replied, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Can I see her?” she startles me with her question.

Oh my God. The moment of truth. Someone wanted to look at her. At least this was someone who was familiar with her condition. I felt a tiny bit more secure as I pulled the fabric back from her face. She peaked inside the sling.

“She’s beautiful. Congratulations.” she smiles.

Congratulations?

I don’t think anyone had said those words since we found out about her eyes.

As tears welled up in my eyes the next words out of my mouth were spoken with complete honesty and appreciation for that one word. Congratulations.

“Thank you.”

Thank you for reminding me that she was a baby. She was my baby despite her disabilities. I should be proud of her and people should not be afraid to congratulate me.

That word was spoken by a woman who, through her own experience, knew exactly what I needed to hear. She could sense that I was frightened about what people would say. Frightened by the way people might look at her.

She knew what I needed and that is exactly what she gave me at the moment when I needed it most.

Comfort.

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Searching for the end of the rainbow

29 Jan

“Remember, an easy question can have an easy answer. But a hard question must have a hard answer. And for the hardest questions of all, there may be no answer -except faith.” -Charles Sheffield, Brother to Dragons

We went to the opthamologist appointment 3 days after I took Oli home. This is the doctor that the hospital had recommended to us. Since this is the only suggestion we had received so far, we went.

Her name was Dr. Shin.

She was sweet and sympathetic, but she told us that she was not familiar treating microphthalmic children. She could only tell us what we already knew. Oli’s eyes were extremely small and she probably would be totally blind.

She did lead us a few more steps into the beginning of our journey by giving us two names.

One was the name of a family who also had a son with microphthalmia. This family had started a foundation called the Nevada Blind Children’s Foundation.
She told us that the foundation was having an open house in a couple of days and we should go and meet this family.

Finally! We were going to be able to talk with someone who knew what we were going through.

The other was the name of a colleague she went to school with. He was another opthamologist but, had treated kids with microphthalmia before. He was located in Los Angeles which was about 6 hours away.

I still did not know what all these people were going to do for my daughter and my head was swimming with too much information. I thought that the doctor in L.A. was going to fit my daughter with her first pair of conformers. I found out 2 months later, when we saw him, that he was just more of an expert on her eye condition. I’m still not completely sure why we needed to see him. He told us the same information that we had heard since she was born. That her eyes were extremely small. We did finally get the name of an ocularist though.

I felt like I was on a scavenger hunt. Each person we met would lead us to another person and they in turn would lead us to another. Each clue was supposed to be leading me closer to an answer.

But I never received the answer I was looking for.

A way to make her better.

I may as well have been searching for the end of the rainbow.

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Pretending

28 Jan

“Dear today,

I spend all of you pretending I’m okay when I’m not, pretending I’m happy when I’m not, pretending about everything to everyone.” -Nina LaCour

After a few days of the earth quaking beneath my feet I think I began to absorb the shock waves that hit. I became numb. I went into what I now call, my “I’m fine mode”.

A few people were really good about calling me to see how I was doing. I would always respond with the same response. No matter how I was actually feeling.

I’m fine.

Fine really stands for:

F#$@&* Up

Insecure

Neurotic

&

Emotional

That’s exactly how I was feeling.

But I could never lower my defenses long enough for anyone to get a real glimpse inside.

I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak.

I really got into the “I am indestructible” role I played for everyone.

In reality I felt like I was falling apart.

If I would have let someone inside my head at the time this is probably the conversation they would have heard.

How are you doing Shannon?

Well, let me see. I just had a baby that has some pretty significant disabilities and my son is still only a baby himself. I am completely terrified not to mention that this really just screwed up my whole plan for my future. I just want to run away from it all but, you see I have this image I portray to the world and running away isn’t really in sync with the “pretend” me that everyone is counting on. Everyone is counting on me to be this person that knows all the answers so I just need to go along and fake my way through it. Even though I really just want to curl up and die.

Nope. I definitely could not let that craziness out of the bag.

So I just went on pretending.

Everyday I was the feature actor in my own life.

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Life…it’s not always easy

28 Jan

“Life is loving so hard you inspire and become inspired to be the next level of the person you never knew.” -Unknown

After Oli’s bath that night I gave Kekoa his bath. He was so happy that we were home and he was especially happy to have his baby home. I got the cutest pictures of him with Oli that night.

Babykoababyoli1

He was so amazed that this little doll was real. She wiggled and cried. She would grasp his chubby finger if he placed it in her hand. He just kept staring at her tiny hands and feet.

After I took some pictures we went into the bathroom and I started filling the tub with water. When it was ready Kekoa climbed in and began to play in the warm water. I was just staring at my perfect little boy.

My little boy.

I cried the day I took Kekoa home from the hospital. I had to go out to Target and I started sobbing in the passenger seat on the way there. Seth looked over at me like I was crazy.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know. I’m just so afraid for him. I’m afraid we’re going to get into a car accident and he’s going to get hurt. I’m afraid someone will want to look at him and accidentally sneeze on him and he will get sick.”

“I’m afraid someone will want to touch my new baby.”

“I just want to protect him from the world.” I sobbed.

I remember all those fears while I watch my son take his bath. I am overwhelmed again by my fierce instinct to protect him.

I want to protect him from this challenging and unfair life that now lays before him.

I want to protect him from the bullies at school that will tease him because his sister is different.

I don’t want him to ever see people staring at Oli. Watching his little face as he tries to comprehend why people are looking at his little baby and then turning away with pity on their faces.

Watching him try to understand the question that will inevitably come.

What is wrong with her?

I just love him so much and I want to give him everything.

I realize now, that I just wanted to give him everything that was easy.

Life is not always easy.

She gave me a new meaning to that phrase.

It no longer meant that life wasn’t easy because the money was a little tight that month. Or that it wasn’t easy because I might not be able to afford the new car I wanted or the bigger house with a bigger yard.

It used to mean that life was hard because I might not get what I want.

Now it was hard because I began to see how small and insignificant this all was.

It was hard because I now realized all that I had taken for granted and just thought I was entitled to.

It was hard because I really wanted my old life back.

I didn’t want to think about all of the challenges that now faced my family.

I wanted to remain where I was, even if it meant I would never grow.

I wanted my son’s life to be easy.

I could only look at him and cry. I just looked at him and repeated the 2 words that had become my mantra to my children.

I’m sorry.

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It was blue.

27 Jan

“There is no better way to thank God for your sight than by giving a helping hand to someone in the dark.” -Helen Keller

The first night at home with Oli I did what I always do with my babies. I gave her a bath. She was so tiny and sweet. I washed her little arms and legs. Her little round head covered with blond fuzz that I was so excited about. Kekoa had been born without a single hair on his head. I washed her petite nose and her small eyes that still had not opened.

I just wanted her to open her eyes.

When they did the CT at the hospital the doctors told me that both of her eyes were extremely small. The left measured only in the 10th percentile of normal. The right was half the size of the left. We would later see that her right eye was really just an empty socket. What they saw on the CT was only a bit of underdeveloped tissue located behind her socket.

I knew that her left eye probably wouldn’t look like a normal eye but, I still needed to see it.

A mother needs to inspect every single part of her new baby.

I felt like I was being cheated out of that right as her mother.

No matter what it looked like, I needed to see it.

After her bath that night I tried to fill out the information in her baby book. A pink baby book. A book that I had spent a lot of time searching for. It had to be the perfect book because when I bought it at 8 months pregnant, I knew my daughter would love to read through it someday. Just like I still like to look through my baby book.

I started filling out the questions.

What time was she born?
How much did she weigh?
How long was she?

Then I got to a question that made my heart drop.

What color were her eyes?

My eyes filled with tears.

I don’t know.
I don’t know what color her eyes are.
Why can’t she just open her eyes?
Why can’t I do something to help her?

I still hate that book. I haven’t look at it in years. I hate it because I remember sitting in my brown rocking chair by the window. I remember reading that question and feeling incredibly small and useless.

I hate that book for making me feel like I was useless to my daughter.

She finally opened her left eye 2 days later.

It didn’t look normal. It was small and underdeveloped. It had a tiny blue iris that danced around in her head.

I knew that she couldn’t see me with it. When she opened her eye I knew that my daughter would never see me.

But, to me, it was beautiful.

I was finally going to be able to write down in her baby book what color her eyes were.

It was blue.

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Isolation

27 Jan

“If isolation tempers the strong, it is the stumbling-block of the uncertain.” -Paul Cezanne

When Oliana was born we lived in a town called Pahrump, an hour outside of Las Vegas. We had moved there from Vegas only 5 months before her birth. I took my baby home to a house 1500 miles away from my mom, who lived in Iowa.

I had never really felt lonely before but, that day I began to realize how alone and completely isolated I was.

I just wanted my mom.

I have always been a very independent person but, right then, I just wanted her near me. I wanted her to hug me and tell me again that I was going to get through this. And that it really wasn’t as difficult as I imagined. Even though she had never raised a child with a disability, I wanted her advice on how to walk this difficult road that now lay before me. I had no idea even where to begin.

Going back to that house in Pahrump felt like being abandoned on a sinking ship.

There was no one around that I could use as a life raft when I began to feel like I was drowning.

There were no doctors or therapists for her in Pahrump. Oli’s nearest physician would be an hour away and I still didn’t know exactly what kind of medical complications she might suffer from.

I began to realize what a terrible mistake it had been to move to there.

I didn’t know back then, what living out there in isolation was going to do to me.

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