Throughout my life, I have always
been an organizer. Growing up in Western Pennsylvania, we lived in a
mobile home and I had the tiny little bedroom in the middle of the
trailer. It couldn’t have been any larger and 8’ by 9’. I kept my room
extremely neat and clean, everything had its place, and it was constantly organized
and re-organzied to maximize space and efficiency.
My
organization carried over to my career and motherhood, and particularly
paperwork. My filing system covered everything from insurance policies,
to receipts for Christmas presents, even notes from conversations I had with
doctor’s offices and customer service agents for durable medical
equipment. (Saving all this paperwork has proven invaluable as a tool to
holding people accountable, and I will explain that one day in another post.)
When
speaking to some new coworkers recently they asked me to tell them “what
happened to Joseph”, and I remembered this journal post I wrote soon after his
birth. It was handwritten in one of those black and white composition
notebooks, but I transcribed it years ago and stored it in my Google
Drive. A quick search one day and I found this, which I am leaving
untouched since it was written. I still remember his birth day like
it was yesterday, it flashes in my mind like scenes from a movie.
Here’s
that journal entry:
My
Memory Of the Labor and Delivery of my son, Joseph Hershberger.
Written
in a journal days after his birth.
Lee
Ann Hershberger
Went
to bed on 6/26 around 10 pm and felt what I thought were contractions.
They weren’t too strong, so I wasn’t positive, but something inside of me told
me this was it. I was going into labor. I tried to sleep for a bit, but
the cramps were getting uncomfortable. I told my husband to go ahead and
sleep and I went to the living room with my physio ball and turned on the
TV. I sat on the ball as I labored during the night and even though the
TV was on, I wasn’t watching it. I can’t even remember what was on
TV. My contractions started becoming more regular around 2 am, so I
started timing them more carefully and writing them down. Around 3 am,
the contractions were 5 minutes apart and lasting about 1 minute. So I
called Kaiser. The nurse called the doctor on call and then called me
back. She said I was probably in early labor, but come to the hospital
anyway. So I woke up my husband and told him I was going to take a shower
then he might want to—I knew it might be a while before either of us got one
again. The shower felt good and relaxed the contractions a bit. We
took our time and were very calm; we even decided to stop at Sheetz to have a
bagel and some water and Gatorade. We also knew it might be a while
before we ate. On the way to the hospital, (it was about 4:30 am now),
the contractions became more regular again, 5 minutes apart for 1 minute
long. We headed to Fair Oaks Hospital and checked in at
registration. Since I was pre-registered, it didn’t take long to get to
triage. A nurse named Pam took a bit of medical history and strapped on
the fetal monitors and a BP cuff. After 15 minutes or so, she went to
call the Kaiser doctor on call-Dr Vu, for a consult. My BP was a little
elevated, and even though I was only 2 cm dilated, the decided to admit me.
My
husband and I walked across the hall to the labor and delivery room and got
settled in again. So far the contractions weren’t bad, and we started to
get excited. Dr. Vu checked my progress and decided to give me pitocin.
The contractions got more intense and the only way I could manage the pain was
by standing up and hugging my husband during the contraction. The nurse,
Ryan, came in and said that Dr. Vu wanted me to stay in bed because of my high
BP. At that point, I gave in and asked for medication, I was too
uncomfortable. Ryan gave me a shot of Nubaine to take the edge off until
the anesthesiologist could give me the epidural. My husband noticed that
the baby’s heart rate dropped from the 140’s to the 120’s after the Nubaine.
The anesthesiologist came in and finally gave me the epidural. It was
hard to bend forward enough and seems like it took a while to get it in, but
one the medicine started working, I felt much better.
Dr.
Rulez was on duty now and she decided to break my water to speed along
labor. When she did, she said there was thick meconium all over the
baby. She sounded concerned and said I was going to have to have a
C-section. I was okay with the decision; I just wanted the baby out.
She said I wouldn’t be able to hold the baby until after the doctors cleaned
the meconium out of his lungs. She said she was going to finish up with
another lady who was in labor and was pushing, and then we would go do the
c-section. Ryan gave my husband scrubs and told him to go ahead and start
putting them on. The anesthesiologist came in and gave me another bolus
of medication and that’s when Todd noticed the baby’s heart rate dropping to
110, 100, 90, and 80. He ran to get Ryan and then chaos broke out.
Ryan called Dr. Rulez and said we need to get the baby out immediately. I
saw in their faces that they were scared. I was rushed into the OR with
Todd and Dr. Rulez spread the betadine on me and started cutting to get the
baby out. I only had the epidural at this point and it was wearing off
and could feel her cutting into me. I screamed, “I can feel that, oww it
hurts” and kept screaming from the pain. The anesthesiologist at my head
also looked scared and panicked and put a mask over my face, telling me to take
a few deep breaths. I caught a glimpse of Todd right before I drifted
off. I woke up to the sound of 2 x-ray techs taking an x-ray. I
heard them say they needed to check to make sure they didn’t leave anything
inside me. My legs felt really heavy and I saw it was 2 pm. Todd
came in with tears in his eyes and looked very sad. I told him I was sorry and
asked him what happened. He told me that the baby didn’t have a
heartbeat, and that the doctors had to revive him. We started crying and
held each other. We weren’t sure if Joseph was going to live or
not.
From
that moment on, all the dreams and expectations I had about what being a mother
was going to be like was thrown out the door. My son would never learn to
feed himself his first Cheerio because he couldn’t move his arms to his mouth
to put it in, nor would his brain function to tell him to taste it.
Joseph would never say “mama” or “dada”, learn to sit up, crawl, walk, or
talk. Joseph would never be able to run around our house, out in our
yard, play t-ball, soccer, play video games, and ride a bike. Joseph
would never even get out of diapers and be potty trained. All the things
we take for granted, Joseph will never be able to do- sit up, roll over, brush
his teeth, get dressed, walk to the bus stop, play with toys, eat his dinner.
Instead
of living those dreams of what parenthood was supposed to be, I spent endless
hours on the phone trying to track down doctors, therapists, equipment,
insurance referrals, and respite care. Most days were spent driving one
hour each way to specialists at Fairfax Hospital with a screaming baby who
didn’t understand why he was in the car all the time going to see
doctors. The practitioners we had to see were endless:
Neurologists, Cardiologists, Audiologists, Physiatrists, Gastroenterologists,
Infection Disease Doctors, Retinologists, Ophthalmologists, Physical
Therapists, Occupational Therapists, Hearing Therapists, Vision Therapists,
Hippotherapy, Aquatherapy, Orthotists, and nurses. More practitioners
have visited my home than family members ever had. I make more trips to
the pharmacy to fill anti-convulsant and anti-reflux medicine that I want to
think about. My house is full of equipment to make sure Joseph can sit
up, stand or lay down in a supportive and protective position. Visits to
family and friends’ houses are a chore as we figure out how to get Joseph’s
wheelchair up their front steps and into their houses. Not week goes by
that I don’t’ have to fight some provider, insurance company or Medicaid for
Joseph’s basic needs to survive. I grow weary of all the staring people
do when we’re out in public with Joseph.
People frown, stare, say “I’m
sorry, what’s wrong with your son?” Every day I am reminded of that horrible
day, what was supposed to be the most beautiful time in my life was the darkest
and saddest. I can’t even have the neighborhood baby-sitter watch Joseph
if I want to go out, because she is too afraid of his seizure disorder and his
feeding tube. Joseph constantly gags and chokes on his own saliva so I
worry every day that he may die from aspirating. Joseph can never be left
alone and will be dependent on someone to take care of him for the rest of his
life.
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