What if: It's A Wonderful Life (A Mothers-versary Story)

Six years ago, I wrote this blog post on my daughter's 24th birthday. But in light of the many life moments that have happened since, this post, it's due for an update. When you realize that a life altering decision made 30 ago was catalytic in so many wonderful things happening, you have to acknowledge it. It's like my own version of It's A Wonderful Life, and really, it is.

It's my middle daughter's birthday today. While our kids "own" their birthdays alone we can't discount how important a day it is for moms, dads and siblings. I have since coined the terms "Mothers-versary", "Fathers-versary" to celebrate parents.

This pregnancy was a journey from day one. Having been insured with one of the top HMOs that fell short on their reputation, I became a number, stranded in a waiting room for nearly four hours and almost miscarried. 

My pregnancy was high risk, so I dumped the HMO.  A friend referred  me to a doctor who specialized in high risk pregnancies. I'll call him Dr. OBG. Dr. OBG is an incredible physician. He's a straight shooter and is always candid and honest.  It's what I respect most about him.

Having grown up in the Marcus Welby era, it only stands to reason that my idea of a great doctor is one that not only practices medicine in the highly unpredictable field of Obstetrics and Gynecology, but also has a human agenda when it comes to his patients. I've always been fascinated at how every pregnancy and birth is like a fingerprint: some similar, but never completely alike.

In one of our consultations, Dr. OBG advised me that a new test I had taken indicated that my baby may not live more than 5 minutes after birth. I had two options: terminate the pregnancy or  move forward. My response was unmovable and pragmatic. "I'll take my 5 minutes." And while I listened to what I was told, I was not going to terminate this life on a "may not".  What if that possibility were wrong? It was like looking up at a mountain peak without seeing over the top, knowing that there was going to be something on the other side.

There is more than enough growth in being a risk taker and I guess you can say that it will be my epithet. For months my pregnancy was wrought with near miscarriages and stresses. Dr. OBG said that I was a challenge to his career! When your doctor says something like that, all you can say is –dayum! I was in and out of the hospital. Each visit became longer than I anticipated and ended with me attached to  a fetal monitor. I was beginning to think of myself as a POW. I wanted to bust out. Oh—did I mention that I was working in a band? 

By the middle of July, Dr. OBG told me that I needed to go back to the hospital because the baby didn't turn in preparation for birth. There would be an intervention to turn her within the womb. So here I was back in Cedars Sinai Hospital with this on staff doctor who had about as much of a bedside manner as a piranha. I had to lay there while he attempted to turn my baby,  applying an inexplicable pressure on my abdomen and hear his conversation with one of his colleagues. Apparently he had almost hurt a baby in utero while doing a procedure. Angered and amazed at his lack of professionalism and being forced to hear his war story, I wondered if perhaps one of his skills was mind reader, because he would have heard my mind speaking. Do you realize you have a patient here?  It was as if I didn't exist.

Next consultation, Dr. OBG told me that the attempt to turn the baby was unsuccessful. Ya think?! In other words, this baby was intent on being born butt first, telling the whole world to kiss her ass! My only option was a C-section.  Dr. OBG wanted to make sure I wasn't intent on pushing a regular delivery and proceeded to tell me a horror story. He really had nothing to worry about because my goal was to have a successful birth. It didn't matter to me how it happened. So he asked me when I wanted to schedule to have my baby and I replied, "Right fucking, now!" I set the date.

I was coming into the home stretch, admitted and prepped for surgery. A C-section is major abdominal surgery, so I can't understand why now days women would want it as an option over a regular delivery. The anesthesiologist explained what he was giving me to deaden the sensation in my mid section. I had never done any drugs, so this was quite an experience for me. And, wow, it felt like someone had taken a huge meat cleaver and chopped off the bottom half of my body. I had to keep glancing down at my feet to prove it otherwise. 

He asked me if I wanted to be put to sleep. Negative on that option! "Absolutely not. I wasn't asleep when I placed the order!" My mother had been put to sleep when she had me in 1956.  I felt a little cheated that she wasn't awake when I hit the planet.  To eliminate my participation in this birth  and wake up from a sleep like a fairy tale and there was a baby  would  relinquish my power. Although I wouldn't be pushing, I wanted to be able to share this story as an integral part of the birth. And indeed, I was an active part, never dismissing the possibility of having only 5 minutes somewhere in my psyche. 

I was used to the fetal monitor and was hooked up to another monitor. I didn't know what was in those drugs they gave me, but I came up with a bunch of one-liners that would have been the envy of any stand-up comic. Dr. OBG explained to me what the monitor I was hooked up to was for. I was high as a kite and having a blast! After the monitor rendered a straight line, I commented, "Well, according to this monitor, I'm brain dead!" There was laughter in the room. I think everyone in the OR knew that this experience was going to be a little different. I had to push a positive agenda.

I observed everything, watched everything. Although prepared for a short entry and exit, I would hold this baby and say goodbye if I had to, but I wasn't seeing that as my vision after I peeked over the top of that mountain. I was getting close to the zero hour. I watched as my mid section was exposed and open. What an unbelievable visual. It was like they were setting a table with my insides, moving things around! Dr. OBG told me I would feel a little tugging as he pulled the baby from my midsection. I told him, "Doctor, just make sure you don't pull a rabbit out of there!" I was giddy about getting to this point, my moment of truth.

I had decided that if it was a girl I would name her Chelsea and if a boy, Keegan, but at 8:33AM on August 3, 1986 when I met her I said, "Your name is Chelkee (a combination of both names) Sunday's child had arrived! She was gray and looked like she had been packed in a sausage casing. It looked like her lips were all over her face. I  started laughing as I blurted out, "This is the ugliest baby I've ever seen in my entire life!" Everybody was laughing. It was a birth experience of pure team work with a great ending.

I was in recovery, coming down from the biggest high of my life. Dr. OBG came in and said, "You did it, kiddo!" I was overwhelmed with nothing but gratitude and respect for him. All I could say was "thank you" repeatedly. Later that afternoon, the anesthesiologist came to visit and said he had never had such an unusually pleasant and relaxed experience and he was just coming to see how I was doing. Nurses visited. Mine must have been the big story that day. Everyone was wonderful to me. 

I had delivered a healthy 6 lb, 11 oz, 19" baby girl. Dr. OBG and I reminisced at my last appointment. I always keep him updated with photos of the baby in utero that was a challenge to his career. We keep each other updated on our kids' milestones on every visit.

Having a great doctor is everything. He did a beautiful job on my body and I have no scars or war wounds to prove I had a C-section.  Dr. OBG didn't believe that this type of surgery should disfigure a woman's body like back in the day. The first time I got up and walked after  having the baby, it felt like all of my plumbing was going to fall on the floor! I look back and relive my birth stories on my mothers-versaries. I always told my kids: never work on your birth day because it's the only day that uniquely belongs to you.








Sometimes my mind goes: what if? What if I had embraced a "may not"? Chelkee would have never been a Girl Scout, won her award for best essay in grade school, never had the most beautiful wedding in the world or become a talented hair and beauty stylist and business owner with a successful salon. And most of all, she would have never have become a mother to the stark humor of my young grand daughter's realization of family ties when at age 3, she said "Mommy, grandma is your mommy?"

All of these incredible people came together because of this one decision. We became a blended family. One of my most incredible accomplishments is that of being a mother. To be able to look back on the 100s of photos of milestones in the hatboxes and remember when I couldn't imagine her being all grown up when I first held her in my arms.

There is something to be said for mother wit and the magical, mystical connection you have with the human being that you carry in your body. It is as awe inspiring as a rainbow. 
_________________________________________________________________________________

So, to my baby girl on her 30th birthday! Wow! Just Wow!  Happy Birthday! This is your unique day and story…It was my calling to protect your life and I will do that until the day I die. 

Love, 
Mom