Day Sixteen

October 16, 2008 at 7:18 pm Leave a comment

We met the head pediatrician and her colleagues the morning I woke up in the gray, bare recovery room, the morning of the emergency c-section.  It surprised me when I saw a whole team of doctors pile into our room.  I wondered if that’s just how it was done in Ukrainian upscale hospitals but soon learned that they were there because my child was sick.  Because this was serious.

The main doctor became “the rock star” to us because her shoulder length hair was a brassy blonde, almost gold with three other colors thrown in for good measure.  She wore thick make-up; deep blue eye shadow, bright pink blush and rich, ruby red lips.  She looked official though, clipboard in hand, stethoscope draped around her neck, a crisp white medical coat with clothes underneath that were bright and stylish.  The doctor next to her, who ended up being the kinder of the two, had dark brown hair and wore no make-up, a large mole sat above her lip on the right side of her face.  She wore sensible black shoes. 

My daughter had low blood platelets.  She seemed to have some kind of infection in her blood but they could not figure out why nor how to fix it.  Her body temperature and breathing were being helped in the incubator.  She was a bit jaundice too. 

That bleak morning, in hushed tones the rock star said it was too soon to know if the baby could fight off the infection.  They were doing everything they could for her.

Elaina had jaundice the first few days of her life what seemed like a million years ago in our little apartment with the porch in Chicago.  I sat outside with her while the sun seeped vitamin D into her skin making everything OK.

Shaking my head, I realized the rock star was still talking.  Russian words fell off her tongue, cutting through the silence and apprehension thick in the room.  I heard the words “syndrome downa” and knew she was repeating what I was told earlier; that my third child may have Down syndrome.  I looked over to the side table next to my bed.  There sat a tan telephone, a plastic cup filled with ice water and a straw and three pages of information about Down syndrome.  She said that they had already taken a vile of the baby’s blood and sent it off to a geneticist for testing.  We should know in two weeks.

The rock star said she would try to get the test results as soon as possible and then depending on what they are, my husband and I would be given options of what we would like to do.

“We know what we are going to do with her, we’re going to love her,” I thought to myself.

I said nothing.


Entry filed under: 31 for 21, Always, Down syndrome, Having a baby, Hosptial stays, Kiev, Maxi pads, NICU, Sickness, Ukraine.

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