I think I learned how truly tough my Deb is when we found out that she was pregnant a couple of years after we'd been together. At the time, she was taking Diazepam (generic Valium) for spasms four times a day, Ditropan for bladder control 3 times daily and Macrodantin 3 times for whatever its was supposed to be doing. As soon as the doctor told her she was pregnant, she decided to go cold turkey from everything, even thought the doctor suggested gradual reduction of dosages. She asked, "Are you going to guarantee me that these medications will have no effect on my baby? Are you going to be there to help take care of whatever birth defect they might cause? " Try as they might, obstetrician and spinal chord specialist alike, could not convince Deb to take medication during her pregnancy.
Going Cold Turkey
Now bless her heart, Deb was quite naive in her decision. Although she had seen "Lady Sings the Blues" where Diana Ross portrayed a strung out Billie Holliday going through sweats and shakes when she needed her fix, she never made a connection to what she was facing. "I'm just taking a few prescriptions that the doctor gave me, what harm could there be, other than a little discomfort, which I am quite willing to suffer for the health of my baby" She had no idea of the potency of Valium or her bodies craving for it as she went through withdrawal. She suffered fits of sweating, shaking, chills and aching muscles beyond what her injury could account for. Even after I convinced her that it was withdrawal she was suffering from (just like Lady Day), she thought it would quickly be over in a couple of days. Wrong again. She had to endure these symptoms for the two trimesters of her pregnancy and then still deal with the untreated effects of her injury after they subsided. Her muscles would ache, her legs would spasm uncontrollably and her bladder wouldn't sit still for hardly a minute. She even had to go through a stint in the hospital when her blood pressure dropped dangerously low. But she handled it all with the goal in mind of delivering a healthy, drug-free child.
Educating the Professionals
Originally, I didn't think Deb was blazing that new of a trail, having a baby after a spinal chord injury. Apparently, it was my turn to be wrong. You have obstetricians, even very good ones, who could tell you all about the development of a child and what a healthy mother went through, but knew nothing next to nothing about spinal chord injury. Then, you have spinal injury specialist, who made fairly educated guesses about the effects of a spinal trauma (though they still don't know why Deb has 70% use of both her arms when she should be a quadriplegic based on where here injury is) - but for the life of them couldn't give you the ins and outs of a high-risk pregnancy if their life depended on it. Thank goodness Al Gore had invented the Internet by 1995! Deb would search and dig for any and all information she could scrape up (the Net was a lot less commercial back then, so the information was free). Some doctor would tell her that she would have to deliver by Caesarian section, since her muscles didn't work. Errrgh...wrong!!! She would hand him a stack of articles and anecdotes to that confirm the contrary, her involuntary muscles would do just fine. Some doctor would suggest bed rest for the last 3 months, since she wouldn't be able to discern the onset of labor ..."wrong again, Batman!" If she could feel gas (and she could), she could feel labor (3rd page of this 10-page article, Doc.) It went on like this for months until the doctors started posing their advice for my wife in the form of questions: Do you think you might want to try this vitamin, do you think this diet might be ok? I think they had learned not to mess with my sweetie.
Suffering Fools
Beyond the withdrawals and the doctors, Deb's patience was also stretched paper thin by many in the general public who couldn't imagine an expectant mother in a wheelchair. Men walking on the moon, microwave ovens, Ronald Reagan knowing nothing about Iran-Contra...all this they could believe. Woman in a wheelchair getting pregnant? "How could that happen?", a couple people were bold enough to ask. Deb, with a completely straight face would start, in her best "Maria from Sesame Street" imitation: "Well, when the Mommy bird and Daddy bird decide to make a baby... " I would be rolling as the offended target marched away. Deb was accustomed to handling such personal snooping by strangers with her own sense of deadpan humor. The classic, "How long have you been in the wheelchair?", was always answered with, "Oh, since about 9 o'clock this morning. " Shock and dismay would contort their face until they realized their leg was being pulled. Maybe the most memorable incident of these rolling pregnancy faux pas was when Deb went for a checkup with the obstetrician at Metro General Hospital. The department secretary promptly inform Deb as she wheeled through the door, "Oh, honey, the Spinal Chord Clinic is on the 7th floor" . To which Deb promptly replied, "Been there, done that, but I hear they know a little more about pregnant women down here. I hope they're right"
Labor, Finally
When I arrived in the delivery room, I was greeted by at least a couple doctors and a several nurses who were surrounding my wife and she pleaded with them to get out of the room and leave her alone. They immediately turned to me to convince me of the expediency of giving my wife an epidural and being prepared to do a Caesarian. They spoke to me as if she weren't even in the room. "She really need this...she should get that...it will make her blah, blah, blah". All the while she yelling now to get them out of her sight before she starts to throw things because her ears and her arms work quite well. I of course deferred to my wife's decision and wisely interjected a few, "isn't that right, Sweeties" into my replies. There were more intense moments, highlighted by Deb's labor pains being translated through her injured spine as intense, pounding headaches. Her blood pressure was dangerously elevated, one of the risks the doctors hoped to avoid with an epidural. However, after about six hours of drama and screams and sweat, my son Malik unceremoniously plopped into the world, opened his eyes and looked around as if wondering why his sleep had been disturbed. He was a very healthy 6 lb., 11 oz. bundle of wonder who had just begun to be the inspiration of two very happy parents.
The Inquisition!
Before being released from the hospital, Human Services had to be summoned, and Deb and I (mostly Deb) had to be subjected to a battery of inquiries and drills to make sure that Malik would be "safe" in a home with a paraplegic mother. Most of it was inane because the LSWs had no real clue what life was like for Deb and therefore didn't know the real challenges. "What will you do if he gets diarrhea?" "How will you feed him solid foods?" They even made her demonstrate that she could change his diaper and bath him. I was outraged. All this while a 16 year-old teenage mother in the next bed, whose baby was in ICU because she smoked throughout her pregnancy, was heard to vow not to let a baby slow her down and she was still going to go out clubbing every weekend! Arggh!
The Rewards
Though we were a blended family, each of us having been married before, with 3 pre-teen boys and a teenage daughter between us; the challenge of Malik's birth and upbringing (he's 10 as of this writing) has helped bring a new appreciation of parenthood to both Deb and myself. He is home schooled now (more on that later) and is taking advantage of parents who have been through it all before.
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