My Dear Friend's Baby

Thanks to the radio show I listened to on the way to work, I started yesterday thinking about my parenting, and appreciating the family I have been given. I thought all day about the gifts I have inherited from my parents and grandparents, and the legacy that I can leave to my own offspring. How timely it was to my own contemplations that I ended yesterday in tears over a friend’s heartache, and in awestruck appreciation of my own good fortune.

One of my best friends, a friend I have known since 5th grade, and a woman I have grown to love as sister, has recently had a series of horrific misfortunes. She and her husband tried for a while to get pregnant without success. Just when they were about to see a fertility specialist, it seemed that God intervened and blessed them with child. When she told me she was pregnant, she said she nearly passed out because she was so overwhelmed with joy! I shared that joy and excitement with her, already planning what we could do with our babies being so close in age. That happiness quickly turned bittersweet, however.

Shortly into the pregnancy, it became apparent that she had more than the run of the mill morning sickness. Plagued with unrelenting vomiting, she was hospitalized several times and forced to take a leave of absence from work before eventually ending up with Home Nursing services and a PIC line for continual IV fluids and medication. She lost somewhere around 30 pounds in about 3 months. Just the severity of the sickness would be enough to render anyone hopeless, but that coupled with the raging hormones and exhaustion of early pregnancy, as well as the hassles of ensuring sustainable employment became an emotional nightmare for her.

Over the last month, although t he vomiting did not completely subside, it seemed to ease a little. We talked often, and she seemed more emotionally stable, able to find hope again in returning to normal, and finding enough relief in those sporadic moments of wellness that she felt some optimism.

She was scheduled a routine sonogram for this Friday, but on Tuesday she had some spotting. The doctor decided to administer the sonogram early. The baby is a boy, a surprise to all of us who thought it was surely a girl, but he is not a healthy baby. My friend called on Tuesday and told me the news. They thought the baby had hydrocephalus, water on the brain. Her outlook, though, was not panicked or grim, but rather hopeful. Hydrocephalus has varying outcomes and varying etiologies. It could be bad, but it could also be no big deal. She decided not to worry until she went for more detailed testing on Wednesday. I give her a lot of credit here, because I think I would probably have been very worried at that point, but she handled it well.

I waited for the call on Wednesday with anxious anticipation. Surely they would tell her that it was no big deal. They’d put a shunt in the baby when he was born, or possibly in utero, and he would have a good chance of developing normally. I mean, what are the chances that there’s something terribly wrong? Apparently, the chances are pretty good.

She called me yesterday afternoon in tears. The news was probably the worst case scenario. The doctor felt that the baby could be lacking a cerebellum, or possibly has a rare genetic disorder called Dandy-Walker syndrome, which is caused by malformation of the cerebellum. The cerebellum controls motor function and sensory perception integration. Deformities to it (and thereby also Dandy-Walked Syndrome) can cause a wide range of disabilities ranging from moderate to profound. If there is no existing cerebellum, disabilities will also vary, but will inevitably include tremors, uncontrolled movements, and muscle weakness to name a few. That is if the baby survives.

She had an appointment today for a second opinion. The appointment was at 10 a.m and as I write this, it is almost 2. I haven’t heard word yet, so I am assuming that the second opinion was not far off from the first. I don’t know what her course of action will be. I don’t know what to do to comfort her except to pray, and to be honest, I don’t even know what to pray for. I don’t know if it is better to pray for a living baby, or for God to be merciful and spare him the agony of a painful life. Therefore, I have chosen not to be specific in my prayers, but I have rather been asking God to give her and her husband both strength and guidance. This isn’t a crisis that a human mind can readily solve. It is in His hands alone now.

My heart breaks for her right now, as a mother and as a friend. The depth of a maternal bond is one that all mothers share. When it comes to children, we readily feel each other’s pain, and this is monumental. I can’t help but cry every time I think of her. I know she’s sitting somewhere, feeling the tiny kicks of a baby who may never even see her face. How exactly does one deal with those emotions?

Likewise, each time I looked at my own children last night and again this morning, her pain was refreshed for me. I was reminded again at the miracle of each healthy child, and painfully aware of my own good fortune. I was right yesterday when I decided that I needed to be more patient and grateful. I’ve said it before and later relapsed to my intolerant ways, and I’m sure, as all human beings do, I will lapse again from time to time. However, simply the inkling of what she is experiencing right now is enough to make even the most impatient person step back, regroup, and thank heavens that my child is healthy. Instead of exasperation, I should be glad that Andrew likes to "kiss" the glass on the back door, and that Jacob is able to ransack my living room and jump on the couch. Those antics truly are no big deal in the grand scheme of life. The glass wipes clean, and a couch is just furniture after all. The material can be patched, but the hole that his absence would leave in my heart could never be mended.