read more having baby

Lucky Little

Talk to me continued...

“Talk to me like I’m a 6 year old.” It was the first time I had used the Denzel Washington line from the movie Philadelphia and I used it only because I did not have enough room in my head to take on a bunch of detailed doctor speak, my wife was dying and the baby inside her, our son, wasn’t doing too well either. I could tell that she was trained in how to deliver bad news to would be, may be, new parents. This wasn’t the place where all the family gathered to see the baby behind the glass just a short time after delivery. Laying there all chubby and cute. Or not so cute, but still a healthy baby. No, that was on a different floor. You couldn’t very well have them all on the same floor. One floor has nurses and doctors and family members walking the hall and filling the waiting room with big smiles, carrying little teddy bears. Everyone is catching up with each other and recalling family stories of when the new mother was just a baby. How she always talked about having a baby and being a mommy. They laugh as they know she will have her hands full like never before. Or how the new daddy would finally be the one to see the great responsibility in life of being a dad. Sure it’s a lot. Heck, bringing a new puppy into the house can be a giant new addition, we’re talking about a baby! A little person that will now own you like you have never been owned before, in a good way. “It’s called HELLPS Syndrome Mr. Little”, the doctor says. She wasn’t just another hand in play here tonight, she was the big cheese. The fact that she’s in charge and she’s calling me ‘Mr. Little’ has already set a tone. That’s allright, I set my own tone in a situation. ‘It’s all going to work out’ is my tone. She started to go on, “It stands for hemolysis, which is the breaking down of red blood cells, elevated liver enzymes, low platelet count..” “Doctor”, I stop her, “I’m not catching any of that. What is the bottom line here? I just need to know the bottom line what’s happening here? Is my wife going to be okay, is my son okay?” “Mr. Little”, she goes on, “the bottom line here is that the liver is fighting back against the baby being in the body.” I can recognize that she is gathering her thoughts on how to get it across to me in the most tactical way. “Her liver is expanding, blowing up, if we can’t stop that it will rupture, most likely killing your wife and possibly the baby as well.” I’m numb. There is nothing I can physically control. I’m used to holding my own. I can and will do whatever has to be done to solve the problem at hand or face down the challenge before me, it’s ingrained in me. Not this time. She says, “The only way to reverse the liver swelling is for her to have the baby.” The doctor takes a deep breath. She has stated the problem, now on to phase two of the disclosure, the solution. “She needs to have the baby as soon as possible, but at this moment, …it is not possible or at least not recommended. The baby’s lungs aren’t completely formed yet.” She hesitates. I can feel the hang time as she thinks through her next words. “Also, her blood platelets are very low, which means, if she starts to bleed, we may not be able to stop it.” Again she paused to collect her most relevant and direct words, “Spontaneous bleeding”, she lets the dam break and two words out of her mouth brings on the tidal wave of ‘emotion’. I state it simply as ‘emotion’ so that any one person reading this now can relate. Emotion is defined as disturbance, excitement, feeling, a state of feeling. There is more than emotion building up in me. There was something supernatural happening. Like fortress walls being crumbled in my mind. The worst thoughts each scrambled for their attention in my mind. My heart was being ripped open. “Mr. Little”? The doctor interrupted my composure. I focus my thought. Situation assessed, options assessed, game plan in place. I walk in the private room where Sonya is. “Bobby!! Bobby!” Sonya reaches from the bed with wires hanging from her wrists and body. “Bobby, Oh God, Bobby, what’s happening to me?” “I don’t know baby but you’re in the right place, everything that can be done is being done.” I calm her by moving the hair that is stuck to the sweat on her forehead, even though the room is cold, and dark. “I got ya baby, I got ya now. I’m here now.” Sonya is able, for a least about eight short seconds, to just stop fighting. Eight seconds to lay her head on the pillow and forget about the pain in her body. Eight seconds to slip away from the twisted thoughts thrashing in her mind. She was hallucinating from the ‘mag’. She was at 27 weeks. There was a lot of reading to be done in the ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ book. For this situation there was a small footnote. It was talking about pre-eclampsia which is certainly one of the aspects of HELLPS Syndrome. Nothing about what we were going through now. I had never seen this version in any movie or on TV. Not what’s happening on this floor. At least not in 1999. Nobody was smiling. Nobody was playing around with any time on their hands. You washed your hands probably 4 times for every hour you were there. They weren’t playing around, these angels I called them. “Bobby, baby...the baby…” Sonya says, barely able to get it out as she sluggishly leans over the edge of the bed in defeat. “Oooh God!” Sonya springs up in pain, pulling all the wires with her as they tangle around the covers and the railing on the side of the bed. One of the wires had come unplugged and a high pitch siren alerted from one of the many machines packed around the bed. “My baby, Bobby, he’s dying!! Bobby, is he alive?” Looking deep into her eyes I knew she was lit up like a torch from the drugs. Her mind was being bent, and as far as she could fathom, her body was being manipulated, broken and tortured. “He’s fine baby, everything is under control”. I assure her. “Nurse!!, NURSE!” I screamed. I know the way to get best accommodation in most cases doesn’t come by anger and I apologized to her for my outburst as she appeared in a flash at Sonya’s side. Something supernatural was going on in that room. The nurse quickly plugged the wire back into place to stop the raging alarm squeal. Eveything slowed way down, almost surreal. “Its okay sweetheart, your baby is doing okay, he’s a strong boy.” the nurse spoke clearly as she took Sonya’s hair off of her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “And you’re strong too, I can tell by that baby of yours, y’all are fighters. Now you just keep on fightin’.“ A sense of hope, and reality, and what Sonya knew to be true, had been spoken by a total stranger. The healing in those words. Like a hovering breeze it washed across Sonya’s face and over her body. She had settled in a comfortable position back in the center of the bed. The nurse repositioned some of the wires and pulled the covers up under Sonya’s chin and nestled them around her shoulders. “Bobby, I need to talk to you for a second.” the nurse said as she held the door open. Before the door completely shut or I could say a word the nurse comes right out with the question, “Have you contacted all of her immediate family?”