My Perfect Imperfections (20 page)

“Damn you!” Chance yells as he throws the whiskey bottle across the room. As the sound of the glass shattering echoes in the house, my heart shatters with it. Determined to stay strong, I continue driving my wheelchair without turning around.

As I wait anxiously in our bedroom, I hear the front door slam. I guess Chance is heading out somewhere in the middle of the night. It doesn’t surprise me. This is how he has always dealt with things when he feels like he’s losing control of the situation. He runs.

Hardening my heart, I wheel myself to the bathroom. I’ve made the toilet accessible with the rails so I can safely transfer by myself. I try to brush my teeth once I’m back in my wheelchair. I don’t know why I even bother. I’ve tried this a million times but not only can my hand not hold the toothbrush, but I can’t even aim it toward my mouth without getting the toothpaste all over my face. Giving up, I transfer myself into the bed.

As I lie there, I relive the entire scenario from earlier. It’s already midnight, and Chance is not back yet. I wonder if he really is walking out on me. As the tears sting my eyes, I refuse to cry. Blinking them away, I promise myself that I need to stay strong—if for no other reason than for this baby.

Somehow, I must have dosed off to sleep. When I feel Chance’s arms wrap around my waist, I know he’s back in bed. I have no idea what time it is, and he reeks of alcohol.

“Lily, Lily. I’m so sorry,” he whispers in my ear as he caresses my back. “I’m scared shitless. First of all, I’m scared something bad is going to happen to you. I know people with Cerebral Palsy have kids, but I still can’t imagine that type of stress on your body. I can’t lose you, Lily. You’re my everything. I know I acted crazy earlier, but if something happens to you…no, I won’t be able to go on. I try to act strong, but you must know that I’m not. You’re so much stronger than me. You’ve always been able to deal with things. But me? No, I can’t do it. And, I’m terrified of the ALS. I’m weak—an ass, really. Lily, I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. You have to know that.” Chance continues to say he loves me over and over as he drifts off to sleep.

I don’t just get the “morning” sickness. I get the “all day and all night” sickness. Eventually, I need a bucket right next to my bed and one in the car. Soon, I have to take leave from work. Vomiting every hour, even when there’s nothing but acid left in my stomach, is the worst feeling in the world.

Chance is beside himself. “You’re losing more and more weight. You’re supposed to be gaining weight. Lily, this is absolutely nuts.”

But I continue to ignore him. No matter what happens, I know I’m not going to quit. I’ll find a way to keep going. My baby depends on my strength.

Eventually, Chance asks my parents to move in with us. He feels our house is large enough, and he’s not comfortable leaving me at home, even with a caregiver. Since my mom has taken early retirement, she will be available for me if needed.

My parents also believe it’s a great idea. They have tried to talk me out of having this baby, saying that my stubbornness is restricting me from thinking rationally.

Believing that all of this nausea and vomiting will stop after the first trimester, I’m extremely disappointed when it continues. Chance insists on attending all of my doctors’ appointments with me. He doesn’t understand why they can’t help me with my nausea. Even the medications they give me don’t stay down. A few times, I end up in the emergency room, and they end up giving me intravenous fluids for my dehydration.

Since I’m seeing a high-risk doctor, Dr. Nowak, he monitors me closely. Both Chance and I decide that we don’t want to find out the sex of the baby or have any special tests done to find out if there are any defects. By now, Chance has accepted the fact that no matter what the results may show, I plan on giving birth to this baby. It will probably be for the best if he is surprised with the rest of us when the baby arrives. I have to admit, although he is worried sick about me, he has made a one hundred percent transformation with his attitude. He is supportive, and I can even see how he’s caught up with emotion every time we watch our baby through the ultrasound.

Unfortunately, my sickness goes from bad to worse. Because of my weakness, I lose more control of my muscles. It becomes even harder to stand, keep my trunk upright, and even swallow. By the time I’m seven months pregnant, I have to be hospitalized. I can’t keep anything inside me, and my severe dehydration causes me to start early contractions. At the hospital, they place an NG tube inside of me so the food can travel directly from the tube placed into my nose all the way down to my stomach. The doctors know that they have to get some nutrients and fluids into me.

Dr. Nowak fears that I may have to deliver the baby early, but he promises that he’ll try to prolong it as long as he can. I know that the longer this baby can stay inside me the better. It needs to grow some more so it can breathe on its own once born. I want to try to avoid a premature birth for fear of the baby having a higher risk of Cerebral Palsy.

Chance is worried about both of us. He sleeps at the hospital every night. On the nights he’s called into work, my mom stays with me.

I can tell my body is completely changing. If I ever want to bounce back from this pregnancy, I’ll need to be ready to do some hard work to get my strength back. At this point, I don’t even care. Some days, I feel so bad that I truly believe I won’t make it. Yet, all I care about is having this baby. I’m obsessed with bringing this precious life into this world. If that’s my last hurrah, then I’ll die happy.

Of course, I don’t share any of this with Chance. Every time he asks me how I’m feeling, I smile and indicate that everything is good. Even if I wanted to share my thoughts with anybody, I wouldn’t be able to. I haven’t been able to use my communication device for months. I simply don’t have the strength, energy, or coordination.

I spend the rest of my pregnancy at the hospital. Absolutely miserable and missing my home, I try to stay positive. I remind myself that soon I’ll be able to see my baby. Every night, I dream about what my baby may look like. These dreams continue to provide me with the strength to keep hanging on.

Luckily, I have plenty of visitors at the hospital. Besides everybody from my work, my therapists and personal helpers continue to check on me. Kathy is a regular and even helps to relieve people by staying at the hospital at times. This keeps me busy, and I insist on getting out of bed every day and into my wheelchair no matter how bad I feel. Luckily, the hospital therapists come and see me daily, and Chance diligently massages and stretches my muscles every night.

As much as I try to hold this baby inside me as long as I possibly can, my water breaks at thirty-three weeks. Soon after, my contractions intensify.

Dr. Nowak immediately comes to speak to us. “The good news is the tests show that the baby’s lungs are developed. The bad news is this baby needs to come out now because the heart rate keeps dropping. And, I’m afraid you’ll need a C-section because the baby is breech.”

Although Chance looks like he’s about to pass out, I am calm and ready for this moment. I’m not afraid of the C-section. I just want my baby to be brought into this world safely.

“Congratulations! It’s a beautiful girl!” Dr. Nowak announces. He quickly wraps her up and places her right on my chest before they whisk her away to check her. I turn my head to stare in awe at this innocent being. Did I really bring her into this world? Did Chance and I truly create her? Nothing can ever replace the emotions that I’m feeling right now. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. My baby girl is, indeed, a beauty.

Chance has been by my side through the entire surgery, but now, he stands by our baby, his expression full of wonder. When my eyes find his, I see that he’s just as shaken up as me.

He approaches me and kneels down as he kisses my hand. “She’s beautiful, Lily. She has your eyes. She’s perfect. You’ve made me the happiest man alive. Thank you, thank you.”

I try to smile at him, but his voice is drifting. I can feel my eyelids becoming heavier. Why can’t I focus anymore?

“Mrs. Ryker, close your eyes. I need you to sleep for a while.” I hear somebody providing instructions. Who is that? The anesthesiologist?

No, I must stay awake. My baby needs me. I fight it and force my eyes to stay open, turning my head toward our daughter. She’s being examined by more doctors and nurses. I must hold her.

Chance must have realized how distressed I am becoming because he stands up and walks to the baby. “Excuse me. My wife would like to hold our baby now.”

Without waiting for permission, he picks her up and brings her to me. He places her on my chest again, holding her, and I release my tears of joy. Instinctively, my baby finds my breast and begins to suck. She’s perfect. I delivered a perfect baby.

No longer able to fight the anesthesia, Chance says, “Lily, it’s alright. You need to rest. I’ll make sure our daughter is okay.”

I turn my head toward the voice, and Chance’s reassuring eyes stare back at me. Okay, he’ll make sure she’s alright. I can rest now. Watching my precious baby as my eyelids start to close, the darkness finally takes over.

The next time I open my eyes, I’m in the hospital room, surrounded by Chance and my parents. I search for my baby, but panic when I don’t see her in the room.

As soon as Chance sees me awake, he rushes toward me. “Lily, how are you? You did awesome! I told you, you’re the strongest person I know! And guess what? Our baby takes after you—just as strong. She can breathe on her own and already is looking at everybody.” Chance’s eyes are beaming with pride as he speaks about his daughter.

I speak to him with my eyes, letting him read my expression.

“They have to keep her in PICU for now. Probably not long, though. You just had surgery so they’ll want to clean you up. I promise I’ll ask them when I can wheel you over there so you can be with her.”

“She’s strong like her grandpa!” Dad intervenes. “You did awesome, Lily. Wait till you see her. She’s a beauty.”

“She has green eyes like you, Lily. She’s so precious. Oh, honey, you’ve made me the proudest grandma around!” Mom’s face is beet red, overcome by emotion.

Now, if only I can hold my baby.

A few hours later, at my insistence, I am sitting in the PICU area with our baby in my lap. I’ve brought the supporter that cradles the baby and wraps around my neck to help me hold her securely against me while she breastfeeds.

As I watch her innocent mouth sucking, I wonder how she’s so perfect. Do all parents think their baby is beautiful? I swear I’ve never seen anything more gorgeous and precious in my life.

Chance sits next to me while our baby bonds with us. I look up at him, and I notice he’s trying hard to hold back the tears. When I lean into him, he plants the most tender and loving kiss on my lips.

“I want to name her after you. She has your eyes and looks just like you,” Chance whispers.

As I watch her, she reminds me of Layna. Her gentle features and her graceful movements are a perfect replica of my sister.

“Layna,” I say to him. He has heard me say Layna’s name hundreds of times, so although I can’t pronounce it perfectly, he knows immediately what I’m saying.

He smiles. “Layna it is. You’ve already given me everything a man could possibly want in life. I love you, Lily Ryker.”

Layna Elizabeth Ryker comes home a week later, and she becomes the center of our universe.