I recently gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. My entire pregnancy was so incredible -- I loved every minute of it! I never thought for one minute that my baby could have anything wrong with her. But alas, she was born with a hand deformity that was not diagnosed in utero. I cried non-stop for days. My husband would come home from work and cry with me, hold me while I sobbed, "Why our baby?" While I know that this hand deformity will not stop her from becoming an amazing person, amazing daughter, I know she will struggle because of it. I wish it was my hand, not hers that was deformed. I wish I could take back whatever I did wrong during my pregnancy. I wish so many things.
So it started, the doctor visits. Today was our first
visit to the orthopedist. He didn't have any good news for us. He
just said, "We'll have to try to give it function. When we
walked out of his office, I was stunned. "Why didn't he tell us
more? Why didn't he know what else to say? Why didn't he give us a clear
answer about what the future holds?" My husband pointed out that he
probably did not know what the future held. That he probably didn't know
what else to say. That only time would tell what the outcome would be.
I made an appointment with another orthopedist, in hopes of
a better and clearer picture of what to anticipate. But I know that
probably nobody will be able to ease my mind the way I'd like.
I know it could be worse. There are children out there
with cancer! With immunodeficiencies. With cerebral palsy.
With all kinds of terrible things. How lucky I should consider myself
that my baby only has a hand deformity. But I can't consider myself
lucky. I just cry and cry, and ask myself, "Why my baby?"