A Mother’s Intuition
Temporarily staying at their place, I left my daughter for work that late June morning. She was not feeling on top form. She was almost 35 weeks pregnant and the pain in her legs and lower back refused to go away.
In fact, only a couple of weeks or less earlier, I had noticed that her neck had darkened, looking a sickly black-blue. It reminded me of when I was pregnant with my first child 28 years ago and a similar colouring overtook my neck. I mentioned the darkening but I did not mention my anxiety.
Less than three months before, I was in Jamaica with every intention of staying there. My daughter and my relationship was again on rocky ground. Mornings are my time of the day. That is when my mind is at peak performance and my listening heart at its most keen. Source always beckons or rouse me out of my sleep around 3:30 a.m. when It needs me to pay attention to something important for me to do or understand. As I turned in the queen-sized bed in my mentor’s guest room in Kingston, Jamaica, an image flashed across my mind.
It was my daughter and she was pregnant.
Not able to go back to sleep, I messaged a mutual friend to ask whether she knew if Abigail was pregnant. Her almost immediate response to me was, “How did you know?”
A couple or so weeks later my daughter sent me an image via Facebook messenger. It was an ultrasound picture of my granddaughter. In that moment, I knew I would be returning to Canada. There was no question. It was just a matter of when and for how long but the early news from Source was my cue to come back to Edmonton.
My Daughter’s Journey Began
On June 30, 2014 as I said goodbye and told my daughter to call me if she felt worse, Source again whispered to me. I was not sure what was being said but felt a need to be ready to move quickly. So when my daughter called at 4:00 p.m. to say that she still was not feeling good even after doing what I told her at lunchtime, I knew we had to get to the hospital.
The child’s father was out of town on business and, as I did not want her to drive herself to the hospital where I would meet her, I left work early and picked her up. As we sat in the triage area, a knowing came over me. Her neck had darkened more and the pain in her legs and back was now as debilitating as it was back in 2003 when she was diagnosed with sickle-cell anemia.
Hours later, a young doctor came in and checked the chart, the baby’s heart rate and in ten minutes was about to discharge my daughter with a prescription for painkillers.
Know Your Medical History
My daughter has big eyes – and they are as communicative as mine. She turned them on me and I could see the fear and question, “What do you think, Mommy?” She did not have to ask twice. I was piercing into that intern with my own gaze, slashing him with caustic words, dismissing his diagnosis as the same misdiagnosis that was done over a decade ago. “That is unacceptable,” I said, detailing:
- my daughter’s journey with sickle-cell anemia
- my journey as the carrier of the trait and one whose iron level has been officially diagnosed as abnormal
- the similarities in her physical presentation as mine when I lost my first child, and
- the fact that the well-known Edmonton-based obstetrician had not properly managed my daughter’s pre-natal care (in my “expert” opinion) – no folic acid, no iron supplements, no monitoring of her sickle cells, no amniocentesis and absolutely no testing to see whether the baby was thriving in the tummy of a woman whose pre-existing condition made her extremely high risk.
The poor intern ran out and called a top-level obstetrician-surgeon. That was around 11:00 p.m., five hours or more since we were at the hospital. By midnight, the decision was made to deliver the baby by C-section.
Mahalia was born at 1:39 a.m. on July 1, 2014 – Canada Day – weighing 4 lbs 1 ounce.
Her parents were worried but I was not overly. There was a team of prayer warriors ministering to her – my Sisters of my private Facebook group, Daughters Of Sheba, her grandfather and his family in Jamaica, my then 2,000+ followers on Twitter and friends of my daughter all over Edmonton and the world.
Through this journey, I realised why my first child died. My mother had also lost a child – who knows whether the medical issues were exactly the same. Mahalia broke a cycle of child-death in our family.
World Prematurity Day 2015
It is World Prematurity Day and it holds special meaning for us. This post is revised and was previously published on my former blog. Last year, my daughter proudly and gratefully attend the Royal Alexander and the Grey Nun’s Hospitals to pay respect to the teams that worked tirelessly to prevent the grief and devastation that would have overtaken her had things gone differently on June 30. She will pay her respect again today as I am through re-posting this piece.
“Each year, 15 million babies – 1 in 10 – are born prematurely…that means more than 41,000 premature babies will be born today.” This according to the Huffington Post that published a most enlightening article in honour of those born prematurely, parenting and helping to save and sustain the lives or these little ones. Read more here and if you or anyone you know have a child that made its entrance into our world prematurely, feel free to share your story with me.
You are also invited to subscribe to this blog and receive an email update once every weekday when we post. You will also get a copy of my monthly newsletter, fresh off the press, as well as an affirmation poster. We have lots of freebies and giveaways in store for our Subscribers, including access to my E-books. Sign up today and join this community of inspiring, insightful people who are always going straight to the heart of the matters that affect us all.