I am catching up on my Grey's Anatomy, watching last week's episode where they discuss A.N.D with the mother of the premature baby. What is A.N.D , for those who didn't see the episode? It stands for : allowing natural death. My husband and I sit on complete opposite sides of the fence when it comes to this kind of thing, and I think you need that in a relationship. You need a softie, and you need a hard-ass. Everyone is entitled to their own views, and opinions for sure..so here are mine.
When Manning was born, he was screaming, pink, fiesty and strong. He came fast and furious with no complications. When I asked for him to be placed on my chest to nurse, they obliged. He was latching ok, but started grunting like a little tiny puppy, then we noticed the nostrils flaring- and they don't take any chances with that...they whisked him away to Nicu. Tests, wires, tubes, oxygen, beeping, nurses, crying, silence, emptiness, the works. I spent a lot of time at his bedside, just staring. There was so much going on in that nicu, babies everywhere, people everywhere, and yet- I felt very alone. I had a hard time hearing anything, but the constant beeping and the sound of oxygen pumping through the tubes, and just watching his chest rise up and down, up and down, up and down. The nurses gave me a ton of hope though, they would come in and tell my husband and I that he was looking good, looking stronger, etc. They would sugar coat everything and tell us he was improving and we'd be home in no time. Well- that was partially true, but nobody ever said what was actually going on. Until a nurse came in and said it to us straight, and it hit us like a tonne of bricks. I remember the words coming out of her mouth, and I remember the look on her face. I can even still remember what she was wearing, where we were standing, and what I was thinking. The words preceding the bricks, are lost. I have no idea what she was telling us before, or what we were talking about. But she looked at us and said " when your child is this sick we can't put a time frame on when they're going home....... your baby is really sick." My husband didn't take this so well, and his heart turned hateful and I couldn't have that nurse on duty when he'd come into visit [...that was kinda funny] But after that, we did talk about it, in a roundabout way. What would we do, if they told us he wasn't getting any better. I am a fighter. I will fight to the death if it means protecting my children. I will take any challenge thrown at me, any illness, heck- I wouldn't think twice about running into a burning building, to save my children. So- what would I have done, had they told me he wasn't getting any better and would need surgery to *maybe* pull through , but would probably need therapy, medication, assistance, etc for the rest of his life ? I'd have the surgery, and work my ass off to prove them all wrong. Manning took a long time to achieve any milestones, because of his Colitis that went undiagnosed for 6 months. He couldn't roll, couldn't sit until he was 14months {corrected} old, didn't walk until closer to 18months {corrected}. Some doctors told me he may never achieve these feats. I worked so so hard with the therapists, and without them. I became completely wrapped up in therapy, appointments, doctors. I'd set goals for me , as the parent/therapist { not technically, but I think I earned that title} and based on my goals, I'd set goals for Manning. I worked so hard and didn't see the results the therapists insisted they saw. I got sucked into a downward spiral of self-doubt, and a sort of depression in my own mind. I had convinced myself that he would never walk. I would look at him trying so hard, and getting so tired- and I just felt sad, thinking about his future. I confessed my doubts to the therapist one day, in tears. She clearly wasn't trained in the emotional support {ha..ha} for the parents, but tried her hardest , without touching me , to calm my nerves. I'm a hugger. When I'm having a weak moment like that...I need a hug. So it was weird, I sort of shook myself off, and said "knock it off Emily, you're being ridiculous". So I continued to work hard, and set goals. We were assigned another therapist [because the first one was for occupational therapy, this next one was for physiotherapy] and wouldn't you know it....Manning was sitting in a week or two from her starting. Then he started the rest of the process, eventually running. It was so insane. We had some blips on the radar a few times, worried about neurological damage based on certain developmental things, but he overcame them. His physiotherapist, Janice, was honestly an angel sent from Heaven and I will be forever greatful to all of her hard work and dedication. My little man, is a warrior and has made it so so far from where we started.
So- I know we were lucky, but even when Manning's unknown diagnosis had the potential of major developmental/physical disabilities- yes, I cried, yes I stressed about his future, yes I panicked about how we'd deal with it all but I knew , we'd be ok. I knew we'd have the happiest little boy who would be in no shortage of love. I just had that faith, and determination. We got close to losing him, and that was absolutely terrifying [obviously] . I think I was more infuriated with the doctors though, who wouldn't listen to me. Because....what do I know, I'm just the mother.
I will be posting more about that in the future.
So readers of mine....what do you think? A-N-D , or fight for life ? keep it kind, I know this could create a heated debate.
Nobody wants to dive in on this? I got some responses to my facebook- but what about here?
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