Imagines...

Imagine becoming pregnant at 16. You are so happy that your baby has a father who wants to be there.

Imagine that when you are three months pregnant you get a phone call saying he won't be there after all, because he's dead.

Imagine 6 and a half months later you have a perfect little boy, weighing 7 lbs. 6 oz.

Imagine crying so hard because his father will never hold him.

Imagine 5 months later meeting the most wonderful man in the world, and knowing your son will have a father again.

Imagine being so excited to find out that you are pregnant again, and will finally get to enjoy having someone to baby you while you are pregnant.

Imagine a month later bleeding. You go to the doctor and are told you have placenta previa, and it's nothing to worry about.

Imagine 3 months later being told that the placenta previa has resolved.

Imagine only 2 weeks later waking up to find you are lying in a puddle of amniotic fluid.

Imagine having your husband tell you that you just wet the bed.

Imagine believing him.

Imagine having it happen several times over the next 2 weeks.

Imagine waking him up early one morning because you know you need to go to the doctor.

Imagine that he has to go to work, so you have to wait for your mother in law to come get you.

Imagine 2 hours later she still hasn't gotten there because she had to take a shower, fix her hair and put on make up before she could come.

Imagine finally getting to the doctor's office and having to wait over an hour.

Imagine being told that your husband was right, you're just peeing on yourself.

Imagine telling the doctor you want to go the hospital anyway because you don't believe him.

Imagine walking across the street to the hospital and standing in line for 20 minutes while they process your paperwork.

Imagine the same doctor still telling you your bladder is leaking, forcing you to pull the sheet back and show him that the fluid gushing out is NOT coming from your bladder.

Imagine how red your mother in law's face is after what you just did.

Imagine being taken by ambulance to a hospital 95 miles away.

Imagine having to throw your socks away when you get there because they are completely soaked.

Imagine being told that your best option at this point is to abort your 22 week baby.

Imagine being sent home with instructions not to come back until you are 24 weeks pregnant, preferably 26, because they wouldn't try to save a baby younger than that.

Imagine that your father passes away a week later, and you have to go to the funeral with amniotic fluid running down your legs.

Imagine going back to the hospital the day after burying your father, not knowing how long you will be there.

Imagine three and a half long weeks 95 miles away from home, unable to get out of bed, using a bedpan, and calling your husband collect several times a night because you are just so lonely.

Imagine the nurses telling you to get over it when they see you crying, and writing in your chart that you are "combative, and un-cooperative."

Imagine the day you realize that the contractions aren't stopping this time, and thirty one hours later giving birth to a 27.5 week little girl, who weighs 2 lbs. 5 oz. (1065 g.)

Imagine calling your family and telling them she's perfect.

Imagine being annoyed by all the people telling you to take care of yourself, because they don't understand that having a 2 lb. baby is like no more than having a bowel movement, and you don't feel like you just gave birth.

Imagine leaving the hospital at 11:00 p.m. 48 hours after giving birth because the insurance company says you have to stay that long, and the doctors don't want you to leave that late at night, but you haven't seen your house in almost 4 weeks.

Imagine driving yourself home because your husband has to go to work the next morning, so he has to sleep on the way home.

Imagine leaving the hospital that night after being told that your baby is dying.

Imagine calling the next morning and finding out that all the prayers that were said the night before worked, because she is doing much better now.

Imagine only being able to see her once a week, because you can't afford to make the trip more often.

Imagine not being able to see her on Mother's day because you can't afford to see her that weekend.

Imagine going the next weekend to find that the nurses made a little card with her footprints. You didn't get it on mother's day because you didn't go to see her. The nurses all thought she was an abandoned baby because you didn't' see her for two weeks.

Imagine fighting to get your baby home because the doctors don't think you're capable of taking care of a preemie because you're only 19 years old.

Imagine that after having your doctor call the hospital, you get a phone call saying you can take your baby home in two days.

Imagine that after 3 hours of CPR classes, you finally leave the hospital with your 8 lb., almost 4 month old baby, and her apnea monitor (to be used at night) and her oxygen tank.

Imagine watching her grow, but still not feeling like she's your baby, because the doctors are still telling you how to raise her.

Imagine knowing that there's something wrong with her.

Imagine finding out that when she was born she had a grade 3 bleed in her head, but no one told you. They didn't even tell you when you asked. They only said, "they all have bleeds; I'm sure if it were a bad one someone would have called you." You only find out because you read her medical records yourself.

Imagine trying to convince everyone that something is wrong because she is 15 months old and is just now sitting and crawling.

Imagine knowing that you don't feel the same about her as you do your other child, and thinking it was your fault for not bonding with her, not being with her more during her first few months.

Imagine that a few months later you find out you're pregnant again.

Imagine being terrified.

Imagine that you finally get your perfect pregnancy, and have a perfect little girl, weighing 7 lbs. 3 oz, full term.

Imagine coming home to find that your 26 month old preemie has finally started walking that day.

Imagine knowing that there is still something wrong with her.

Imagine finally finding the answer, and trying to convince the doctors that she is autistic.

Imagine finally getting a diagnosis of autism, cerebral palsy, and possible mental retardation.

Imagine seeing your 16 month old doing things that your three year old can't and may never do.

Imagine having a 3 and a half year old child in glasses, leg braces, diapers, who can't say a word, and doesn't show affection. She acts like she doesn't even care that you're her mother.

Imagine trying to imagine her talking and playing like any other 3 year old.

I can't imagine that.

Imagine dreaming about her almost every night, that she is telling you all about what she likes, her favorite colors, what she's been thinking during her three years of silence.

Imagine waking up and knowing that it was only a dream that will never come true.

Imagine not knowing if you will ever hear her say "I love you."

Imagine that all you can do is hope that someday she can understand what you're saying to her because you just can't wait to tell her how much trouble she's been, but how you love her so much anyway.

Denise
Mom to:
James Quentin, 5.5 yrs old, 42 weeks
Ashleigh Taylor, 3.5 yrs old, 27.5 weeks
Anna Kaelyn, 1.5 years old, 37 weeks