Tricia’s son Zach is having surgery today at a Children’s Hospital. I encourage everyone to stop by her blog Woodnotwood and show some love and support for this amazing family.
One of the hardest parts of parenting is dealing with a sick child, especially watching and waiting in a hospital lobby as your “baby” goes under the knife.
This brings about a lot of teary-eyed memories and emotion for me, as my son D was born with Tracheal esophageal fistula, which required numerous major operations before his first birthday.
When D was born he wasn’t breathing. I was fucking numb and a mess from delivering him naturally. I wasn’t a hippie type then, shit, I just turned 20 a month before, but the hospital where he was born in Okinawa did not have childbirth drugs in their budget (or something like that). Anyway, so he wasn’t breathing….there was a hushed silence. Silence definitely speaks louder than words sometimes, and I will never forget the sickening sounds of silence then. The doctor and staff said nothing to me, they took him away, and ran to the corner leaving me alone. I remember crying out “why isn’t my baby crying?” no response. I started chanting the Lords Prayer, and then I heard his beautiful cry. I was crying myself by this point. Still, no one said anything to me, no one showed me my new baby boy, they said in their sterile way “we need to take him to run some tests”. Numb and in shock I was wheeled into a room.
My husband went with the baby and left me alone to sleep. He came in later looking hung over and exhausted. He said something was wrong with our baby. I think a doctor may have come with him, but I really don’t remember. I was in a state of shock to say the least. They said his esophagus was not attached to his stomach, it ended in a blind pouch. Okinawa did not have pediatric surgeons; D would have to be flown to the nearest hospital for an operation to fix him. The nearest hospital was Hawaii.
I was wheeled down to see my baby for the first time. He was lying in an incubator like bed with tubes coming out of him and wires. I reached in and gave him my finger, which he grasped.
-You know I really wanted to write about this, but it’s making me too upset. Maybe I will try to finish another time. The long and short of this is that I was not able to hold my baby for a week, until he was healed from his first major operation. I never put him down after that. When they sewed his esophagus and stomach together, the way his body wanted to heal was by closing off his esophagus in the scar area. So, there were several surgeries after that where he had to be dilated. He still is at risk for that today. They also discovered he had a secondary birth defect in his trachea. This was discovered at 6 months. He needed another major operation to correct this one. This discovery of course was after his lungs collapsed twice and he almost died before my eyes. I have spent more time in Childrens Hospitials than I can describe. To this day, I cant go to hospitals without getting emotional or freaked out.
Maybe later I can write about the hospital adventures and my conversations with God. When D was under the knife, God actually spoke to me, and assured me things would be okay and that D was chosen. But, those are stories for another time.
I never knew why D was born “special”. Some people blamed me, and the fact that I was a partier as a teenager. Well, as soon as I got pregnant I stopped doing anything, so that really wasn’t a factor. Other people say D was born like that because he is a “mixed breed”. I had a few ignorant fucks from the south ask me about that one. My response, “yeah and the doctors had to remove his tail too”. Fockers. My personal explanation is my mercury fillings in my mouth. I have sooooo much mercury I’m fucking glowing. I’ve read books and talked to doctors and dentists and mercury does cause birth defects and other problems. This is the best explanation I can think of. This is another reason I don’t want any more kids. I’m scared of them having a problem.
D made it out of all of this a champion. He tripled his birthrate like normal babies in three months, despite the fact that most of his diet came from IV’s. His pediatric surgeons RAVED about him, in fact they speak of him to this day, and how strong he is. D was supposed to be like a preemie baby, all short and scrawny. However, the warrior in him has made him fight to be tall, fight to be big, fight to be mighty. My son has amazing power and strength; I thank God for him, and I’m so proud to be his mommy.
On a side note..
I guess this is a reason my son and I love the X-men so much. I always told D he was a mighty mutant, just like the X-men. HomoSuperior – like Magneto says.
*thanks Tricia for these photos
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"The mark of an immature man is that he would die knobly for a cause. The mark of a mature man is that he would live humbly for one" - Catcher in the Rye -WARNING WRITER SPELLING CHALLENGED! But Sometimes you have to say "what the fuck!"
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