As an active blogger and Social Media participant, I choose to live my life out loud. In choosing to live my life in this manner, I open myself and my life up for comments and questions. Sometimes, these comments and questions hurt. Sometimes they are meant to cut. Other times, they are not meant to hurt but are instead posed with the best of intentions. The latter often catch me off guard. Such a situation occurred this past week. Instead of dashing off a quick and angry response, I called a friend and nearly ended up in tears as I described the situation to him. I let it sit over night as I thought about the best way to respond. Then I took to Twitter to vent about the situation. Once I took to Twitter, I realized I was not alone in my very justified reaction to the inquiry. Instead of a private response, I choose to handle this in a public manner. There are many other mothers of children with birth defects in this world and all of us battle the same thing deep down inside. All of us are consumed by guilt.
The birth of my second daughter at 35 weeks and 5 days occurred 42 hours after my first contraction. I pushed twice and her screams filled the air of the delivery room instantly as she emerged into my nurse’s waiting arms. Placed on my chest, she continued to scream and writhe about as most newborns do. At first glance, she appeared healthy. All fingers, all toes, you know, the important stuff. When she screamed however, her mouth gaped at the top where her palate should have been. I blinked and tried to check but blamed it on exhaustion. I tried to latch her onto my breast to nurse but it didn’t work. After several tries, on and off, her screaming, me almost in tears, we requested the Lactation Consultant.
The Lactation consultant came in, slipped on gloves, and swiped our 30 minute old daughter’s mouth. “She’s got a cleft.” A swarm of activity buzzed about our room and suddenly there I was, alone, in bed, freshly delivered and still numb from the epidural. No one to talk to, no one to explain to me what was going on. The thoughts started. I knew of a cleft. I knew it meant something was missing. But I didn’t know the cause. I didn’t know why. Then I thought. I thought some more. What had I done wrong?
Early in my pregnancy, I was unable to take prenatal vitamins because they induced severe nausea. Forced to choose between taking the vitamins or not eating, I chose to not take the vitamins. I even tried taking them at night but it was a no go. My depression from the birth of our first daughter also played into the decision to not discuss this nausea at length with my OB. Nausea continued well into the 6th month of my pregnancies. By the 6th month, though, I still was not taking my prenatals. In my depression delusional mind, I even wondered if it would truly affect my growing child’s well-being.
At six months pregnant, however, even if I HAD taken my prenatals, it wouldn’t have mattered. Most clefts form between 4-6 weeks, well before a woman is even aware of her pregnancy. Many clefts are even impossible to link to a specific cause. Our daughter’s specific cleft, a bilateral complete cleft of both hard and soft palate (meaning essentially, she had NO PALATE whatsover), was associated with a condition called Pierre Robin Sequence (pronounced Pea-air Roh-ban). Her jaw was also recessed, her tiny tongue was floppy, and her airway was narrow. In the 1920’s, PRS babies had a slim chance of survival. Today, however, the rate of survival is very high and surgery is available to correct these issues.
I was asked, several times, by several doctors, if I had taken my prenatal vitamins. I lied. Yes, I know I shouldn’t have lied. I should have been honest. But between depression, PTSD, and the guilt now whirring around in my head, rational behaviour escaped me. My partner didn’t even know I hadn’t taken my prenatals until I confessed while in labor with our son. (Hell of a time to confess, huh?)
Bottom line: I BLAMED MYSELF FOR MY DAUGHTER’S CLEFT.
Yes, rationally I know now I am not to blame. There is no family history of cleft. No associated genetic syndrome along with her PRS. It formed well before I could have done anything about it and even Mothers who take folic acid religiously still have a risk of giving birth to a child with a cleft. I know clefts are nearly impossible to see on a standard u/s unless you are looking for them specifically. Intellectually, rationally, I know all of this. and yet, the guilt consumes me. She grew inside me. She grew imperfectly. Logically I am to blame. If she is imperfect, there is something wrong with me. I failed my daughter before she was even born. I failed at motherhood a second time before I even held her. I FAILED.
Mothers of children with birth defects, with special needs know what I am talking about. We feel this every day. We fight like hell to not let this guilt eat at us. We fight against stigma, misinformation, judgment, and ignorance. We live with the stares, with the internal guilt which threatens to rip us apart every second of the day. We ferociously fight for our children so they may have a chance to live a normal life. A life of which they are completely worthy.
My daughter is nearly 6 years old now. She is beautiful. She is intelligent. She is determined, obstinate, and full of perseverance. She is happy. She is thriving. She is PERFECT. She is LOVED.
It doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do all those years ago. I cannot go back in time to change anything which happened. Even if I could, I would not want to go back in time to do so. Because if I did, I wouldn’t have a daughter who has taught me more than anyone else in my life about the importance of hanging in there, fighting for even the simplest things (like speech, breathing, and eating), or that the most important thing in life is to be happy and keep others laughing right along with you.
I am so sorry that a comment hurt you . . . I have been lucky enough to avoid that . . . so far.
It never ceases to amaze me how much guilt comes with parenting. When we were told that my 2 or 3 day old daughter had a heart mumur my husband blamed himself . . . said with all of his allergies and asthma that he should never have had kids.
Genetics is often a roll of the dice. You can do “all the right things” and your child may still have issues . . . that certainly doesn’t mean we love them any less.
Absolutely! You can cross every t, dot every i, and yet, something may still falter. It’s impossible in some situations to place blame yet we do it so very often in our lives.
There is definitely guilt even when your child is born healthy, guilt over care, etc. But the self-blame and guilt intensifies to the Nth degree when your child is born with issues.
I’m glad you’ve managed to avoid this issue and pray you continue to do so. It’s not something I would wish on anyone. Ever.
i’m sorry you got a rude comment, some people are just so insensitive.
OH yeah, I know the self-blame deal well enough myself. And you’re right, you could have taken buckets of prenatals once you knew you were pregnant and it wouldn’t have mattered. It was long over and done by then. I’m just so sorry you weren’t able to find out before you gave birth. The week we found out was a pretty hard one, and I imagine that was even harder in the midst of the whole labor and delivery situation. It’s a huge adjustment to make no matter when you make it!
My more recent struggles have been around the repeated failures of the bone graft surgeries. We’re about to find out if the third one (from this past summer) took or not. I get a stomachache just thinking about that as I’m typing. When you’ve done what you can do and things of such magnitude still go wrong, the sense of helplessness can be overwhelming.
I hope your daughter continues to do well with all the things she faces. My daughter is also beautiful, fiesty and independent (helpful with a multiple surgeries and “not like my friends” kinds of summers), and just who she should be.
We have to hang together on this kind of stuff – the journey is long but not impossible!
I’m so sorry that you were hurt in this regard. And I want to sit here and tell you it’s not your fault, that you didn’t do a thing wrong, but I know you know that. And I know you still hurt. So I’m here, holding your hand and sending you strength and love for the hurt.
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