[sammiz]

I am a very private person. I do not like putting myself in what I consider to be a vulnerable position and opening my life to the scrutiny of strangers. I have fought this all day and have now reached a place where I am at peace with it. There are some here that know me on a more 'personal' level other than just by my postings on this board. For this I am thankful because I know that if I don't have the nerve to return after this, they will still be my friends. Whatever the result of this post, I have decided to simply count it as good if it touches only one heart, and that one heart lets the door creak open only small increment more.

So here I am:

When I was fifteen, I became pregnant. This was not a result of the normal situation. It was not a 'oh, how I love you' kind of a thing. That is enough info on that.

I did not want a baby. I sorrowed over the fact that I was pregnant. I was angry, hurt and confused. I truly didn't know what to do. The option of abortion was presented and I could not take that particular road. When my daughter was born, I was seven months into my sixteenth year. Pregnancy...it is a relationship that develops over months of time and when I first felt her move, my heart moved also. I fell in love with her before she was born and that was the way it should be.

In those days, when you went to the hospital at sixteen to deliver, they didn't say anything about 'natural' childbirth. They did what they thought best. So when my doctor (a wonderful man) came to me while I was in the 'recovery' room in a drugged state and first told me of my daughter's deformities, I had no earthly idea what he was saying. I only know that he told me it what he was talking about could be repaired and for me not to worry. I trusted him and so I did not worry. Until they brought me my baby.

Dear God! It scared me half out of my mind. More than half! I cried. A lot. I was afraid of her. I thought surely that I would inadvertently harm her in some way. How in the world would I be able to take care of her needs?! I only knew about babies from babysitting nieces and nephews.

Well, I learned many things, all the hard way, by trial and error. Although I was still afraid, I did learn how to care for her. When we went to my sister’s home, she slept beside my bed in a drawer that was positioned on the seats of two chairs that faced each other. I kept my hand on her little back to make sure she was breathing. They gave me this bulb syringe and told me to use it frequently to keep the saliva out of her mouth. I probably did it more than necessary, but I was terrified that she would strangle or something. Sometimes she did. When she did that normal ‘baby’ thing that they do, you know….that hesitation breathing and sighing? I would leap out of bed in despair and worry thinking something awful was going on. But it wasn’t. I was a basket case over these kinds of things due to my ignorance, I think.

Feeding her was a whole other learning situation. She couldn’t suckle. Here palate was completely open. Her nose looked as if it had been ‘pushed’ off to one side and a bit ‘smooshed’. This is where the cleft began. Just below her left nostril. It split the lip, the gum and the palate, all the way through the soft palate. Not a narrow split. Full open. When she drank from a bottle, a preemie nipple (very soft and pliant) was used. She couldn’t get anything with a regular one. It was difficult for her but she worked hard at it, bless her little heart. Later, when it was time for cereal and strained foods, the action of her tongue would push the food up into the cleft. Nobody told me what to do about that. So I placed my mouth over hers and gently blew and forced the food out with my breath. I continued to do this until the palate was repaired when she was 18 months old.

Her lip and nose were repaired when she was eight months old. They told me the surgery would last for four hours. Eight hours later they brought her back to her room. I had cried myself to sleep and when they woke me and brought her in, the nurse asked me where her mother was. I said “I am her mother”. She said, ‘You couldn’t be…you are just a baby yourself”…

When I first looked at her my heart crumbled into tiny little pieces. I was crushed. She was still all bloody and her face was so very swollen! They had both nostrils packed with gauze. There was a pliable metal strip attached (with stitches) to her nose that was bent around part of her nose to give it the shape the surgeon was trying to attain. She no longer looked like my baby. It was like someone had stolen the little face I loved so much. Now, please understand….I knew all this was necessary but I loved her just the way she was. She was beautiful to me and now I barely recognized her.

She had to be kept propped in a sitting position because her tongue was so swollen it was splitting. I had to keep it wet for her. She was so sedated that if she had fallen over into a lying position her tongue would have covered the back of her throat and she would have smothered. I sat with her myself, around the clock, taking no doze pills to stay awake. Once, she became violently ill and began throwing up. I panicked!! I called the nurses with the button and nobody came so I went running down the corridor with her on my way to the nurse’s station! I couldn’t see how she could breath through that and thought for sure she would choke to death. I was absolutely frantic! They were angry with me because of the long line of throw up down the corridor. These nurses had no compassion at all. They were really mean to me and I constantly was in trouble with them.

Continued in the very next post. I told you it was long.....
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