“What does it mean to fight for someone when what you’re fighting for is a missed chance at that person’s not existing?”
Twice a day in our house, we turn on a projector that casts cartoon music videos on a blank stretch of wall. The songs are catchy and bright and usually keep our toddler captivated for the amount of time we need him to hold still. “There are no monsters who live in our home,” goes one of my favorites. “There’s only me and my family who live in our home / ’Cause there are no monsters that live here.
In an educational video about newborn screenings Tag and I watched soon after that phone call, people perching on stools described what it means when a baby needs a sweat test, which is exactly what it sounds like: an examination of an infant’s sweat. Babies like Dudley, we learned, need the test because their newborn screenings indicate they might have cystic fibrosis.
“I know this is not what we were expecting,” the counselor said, choking up. My own voice rose; I asked the same question once, twice, three times. Our dog trotted over and peed on the rug, as if to express his own disbelief. I repeated myself again: How could this have happened? The counselor explained her theory, which we found out later was not quite right.
Before we left that appointment, the midwife reminded us of the practice’s policy on test results. No news is good news. Unless tests showed something negative, no one would call us. No one did. Until Dudley was diagnosed, we did not know the nature of my results. Somewhere between the hospital that processed the results and the midwives who handled my care, something went awry, and the answer to the question we’d asked was never delivered.
Not long after we met with Martha, I went to gather my medical records from the midwives. I told myself to wait until I got home, but instead I opened the envelope a block from my house, with Dudley in the carrier and his face against my chest. I remember holding the papers above his head to see the text:Interpretation: This individual is a carrier of CF.
The more I discuss the abortion I didn’t have, the easier that part gets to say aloud: I would have ended the pregnancy. I would have terminated. I would have had an abortion. That’s firmly in the past, and it is how I would have rearranged my actions, given all the information. It’s moving a piece of furniture from one place to another before anything can go wrong, the way we got rid of our wobbly side tables once Dudley learned to walk.
But no matter whose fault it is, giving birth to a child with a terminal disease is something I did do. This is just as obvious as it is important: I am the one who was pregnant and gave birth to Dudley. That I continued my pregnancy under mistaken pretenses feels like an irreparable violation, one that I don’t think any man — including the one who loves Dudley as much as I do — is capable of understanding.
“I don’t hate him,” she said, taking half a pause. “I don’t like him.” We both laughed a little before she grew serious again: “I don’t like what he did to me.” She told me about going back to Dr. Theimer to inform him Lesli had been born with the rubella virus in her body. “I’ll always remember,” she said, her voice full of fresh wonder even after all this time, “him looking at me and saying, ‘I’m just going to have to be more careful.
Toward the end of our talk, Dortha gently helped me with a question, reframing it to let me know I could ask her about guilt. She said she does feel guilty, sometimes. She’ll go back and think about what she might have done differently. Her doctor was a general practitioner; maybe she should have seen a gynecologist. She did call one — but he was too busy to see her, she said, in the voice of someone who’s told herself the same complicated, circular story many times over.
I’m afraid of what he might want from me someday, of the kinds of questions he’ll want answered. He’s not dumb: He’ll figure out that his disease should have been detected before he was born, not after. The prenatal results should have been communicated to me by the midwives. A genetic counselor should have explained that being a carrier doesn’t necessarily mean an unhealthy fetus. She should have recommended that my husband be tested, just in case. She should have explained that in the U.S.
Brasil Últimas Notícias, Brasil Manchetes
Similar News:Você também pode ler notícias semelhantes a esta que coletamos de outras fontes de notícias.
Rural hospital closures leave residents with few options: 'It's a fight every day'In May, the federal government stopped sending the hospital reimbursements for treating patients on Medicare and Medicaid. In an attempt to turn the hospital's prospects around, a new CEO, Michael Alexander, was named.
Consulte Mais informação »
10 funny facts about Canada - Today's ParentThought you were an expert on Canada? Here are some fun facts you probably didn't know about the land of the free. — CanadaDay
Consulte Mais informação »
Meet Fran And Diane, The CrossFit Workouts You'll Find At Every BoxIt's rare to repeat a workout of the day (WOD) doing CrossFit. But there is a short list of CrossFit workouts for beginners to know before heading to the box.
Consulte Mais informação »
There's A Pair Of Leggings For Every Activity In Your LifeFrom workout to play and everywhere in between — here's 20 leggings for every occasion, from brands like Girlfriend, Outdoor Voices, Alo Yoga and more.
Consulte Mais informação »
This Classic Drugstore Cleanser Is Sold Once Every 15 SecondsAfter a century, it's still one of the most affordable and effective ways to wash your face.
Consulte Mais informação »
13 Things I Learned When I Wore Red Lipstick Every Day for a WeekThe aha moments, as told by a newbie turned expert:
Consulte Mais informação »