Sunglasses and Scars
A simple pair of cloth sunglasses catch my eye as I tidy my three year old’s room for what seems like the tenth time since this morning. I stop for a second and millions of thoughts surge through my head. It is amazing how this small artifact can evoke so many memories all at once. To most, they are sunglasses that new babies must wear when they are jaundice and need phototherapy. To us, they are strong reminders of an experience that changed our lives forever.
It was the common stomach flu, or so we thought, that hit me early one Saturday morning. The next morning our lives were turned upside down…we had a new baby girl! Although she was six weeks early, she seemed perfectly healthy, weighing a whopping five pounds. “A huge baby for being so premature” I remember the doctor saying as she attempted to place the wiggling baby onto the scale. “She will need to go to the NICU for observation” our doctor went on to explain in a very calm manner, as if it was no big deal. I remember my husband Andrew following behind as the nurses and doctors wheeled her away, her little feet kicking rapidly not knowing what was in store for her little helpless self. Within an hour I was able to go down and see my new little girl. She was so sweet, yet so upset. Her skin was bright red and wrinkled. She cried a lot and seemed to be in pain. I fed her and she seemed to eat well, acting as if she was starving, yet so upset. “She spit up again”, the nurse repeated after each feed. She would have to stay in the NICU for further monitoring until she could keep her food down. “What was the big deal about a little spit up?” I would say to my husband as we trudged back to our room deflated at the thought of not being able to bring our baby to our room like everybody else on our floor.
By Day 2, the nurses told us Maya would need to have some further ultrasounds and scans done to ensure there wasn’t anything else wrong. “What else could be wrong?” I would ask my husband over and over again. She still hadn’t pooped and this was not a good thing, or so we were told. "She's just not ready to poop yet. I wish they wouldn't be so anal about every little thing" I'd rant to my husband, knowing full well that they were the experts and there was something wrong with our little girl. We never wished for a poop so much as we did that day! But no poop came. That evening we received a call from a doctor saying they needed to meet with us downstairs. I knew something was wrong. “Is everything okay?” I asked the very serious doctor on the other end of the line, not being able to wait another second to find out what they were going to tell me. “Maya is fine, but surgery is here to meet with you”. “Surgery! That can’t be a good thing!” I screamed at Andrew, as if he was the one who caused all this. “Calm down. Everything will be fine. Come on.” Andrew replied with a very calm, yet unconvincing tone. My husband and I rushed down and were taken into a small room. I will always remember the look on the doctor’s face when they gestured me towards a seat and shut the door behind us. I wouldn’t take a seat and said I wanted to stand. “Oh great”, I remember thinking, “something is wrong.” The tall, well dressed man, shook our hands and introduced himself. He was from GI surgery. I remember the word “surgery” racing through my head as soon as he said it. “Congratulations on your baby girl. She is beautiful” he said in a very calm manner. ‘Get to the point’, I remember thinking. “Your daughter’s scan has revealed some abnormalities, they are fixable, but she will require surgery as soon as possible.” My heart sunk. I remember the exact thoughts that ran through my head. ‘How could this happen to us? Aren’t we supposed to have healthy babies? It’s those other people that have sick babies, not us. We are protected by some cloud above us aren’t we???’ The kind doctor continued to show us the blockage in Maya’s intestine. He also went on to say all the reasons why things could be much worse, then also proceeded to tell us the long road that would be ahead. He also said she should be perfectly fine afterwards; the only long term effects would hopefully be the scar on her belly. The long road ahead included a three hour surgery and at least a month in the NICU. “How will we do this?” I asked my husband. Not even yet trying to figure out how we would do it with a two year old at home. That hit me the next day when our son, Logan, wanted to know where his new baby and mommy were. And so it began, a crazy month of tag-teaming with my husband to ensure we spent every moment we could with our precious little girl, while also trying to maintain some sort of normalcy at home for Logan.
When I look back on this crazy night I realize that I am a stronger person because of it. Maya taught us to appreciate the many things in life that we too often took for granted. We assumed we would always be healthy and our children would be born healthy. Maya taught us that there are bumps in the road of life, and when we hit them we have to lift our heads and keep on trekking. My husband, son and I did just that. We amazed ourselves at how strong we were when we were told her surgery was delayed a whole day and she would have to continue to go without food for a few more hours. We were even stronger when the surgeon told us that instead of one blockage there were actually four blockages and that he removed 20cm of her bowel. And yet we grew even stronger when we waited weeks for her to have her first bowel sound, her first poop, her first feeding and finally her first car ride home!
After only a few days at home we got into a routine and the first month of Maya’s life became a simple memory to go along with many others yet to be made with those little sunglasses and Maya’s scar on her belly, which she will always have to carry with her forever.
