A Miracle is Born

            I have wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember.  As a child I would use my dolls and pretend I was their mother.  As I got older, I would daydream about caring for my baby and watching him or her grow.  I imagined introducing my children to things I had enjoyed as a child: running barefoot through the backyard, riding bikes, and roller skating.  So when I finally got married, I was ready to start a family.  Unfortunately, my new husband was not.  He wanted us to wait for a few years before having children. I didn’t like it, but we waited for four years.  All the while, I kept dreaming about my future children.

            Finally, after begging, pleading, and even a few arguments, my husband agreed that we could start trying to have a baby.  The months ticked by and still the pregnancy tests were negative.  We turned to a fertility specialist for help.  It took almost a year of testing before I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. 

My doctor told me that fertility pills may improve my chances of conception, so we began with this course of action.  I started on the lowest dose, but it wasn’t enough.  A few months later I tried a higher dose without success.  Finally the doctor raised me to the highest dose.  It made me sick and dizzy but not pregnant.  I was so discouraged.  I could see my dreams of a family slipping away. 

My next option was to try a different medication.  I was nervous about it because of my experience with the last one.  But I was desperate to have a child, so I tried it.  Again, the medication only caused terrible side effect.  All of the other options my doctor offered were more expensive than we could afford at the time.  By this point, three years had past since we had first started trying to have a baby.  Depression and despair was seeping in – threatening to completely kill my dreams.  Over the next two years I prayed, cried, and prayed some more.  I was now leaning solely on God’s willingness to answer the cry of my heart. 

In June of 2008, I became really sick.  I tried to ignore it for awhile, but eventually I decided to see a doctor.  It was a Saturday, and my regular doctor’s office was closed.  I found a local walk-in clinic and decided to try it.  When I met with the doctor I told him I felt sick in my stomach, I was going to the bathroom all the time, and my back was hurting.  I thought I might have a urinary tract infection.  The doctor took a urine sample and concluded that I did not have an infection.  He said I must have some type of flu.  I was in tears on the way home because I felt so terrible and couldn’t explain why. 

The next morning, Sunday, July 6, I decided to take a pregnancy test.  Something had to be making me sick, and I was hoping that pregnancy could explain my symptoms.  Waiting those three minutes for the results was agonizing.  Do I dare cling on to hope after five years of negative results?  My eyes first rested upon the straight line in one of the windows, and I felt heavy-hearted again.  What I didn’t realize right away was this was not the results window.  Then I saw the other window had a plus sign in it.  Could it be true?  I called to my husband and showed him the test, still not believing what I was seeing.  I called my parents to tell them, and my mom convinced me to take a second pregnancy test to confirm it.  This test was a digital one which had the word “pregnant” clearly in the results window.  My dreams were instantly revived.  God had heard my prayers and had provided a miracle for us.  To say I was excited would be an understatement.

My first trimester was filled with almost constant morning sickness.  However, I rejoiced at the thought of having a baby growing inside me.  Although it was way too early to tell, I knew we were going to have a girl.  We had chosen the name Kelli Beth, meaning warrior in the house of God.  It had been a fight to conceive her, and I hoped she would have this same fighting spirit.  I would daydream about what she would look like and all the things I would do with her:  I saw my husband teaching her how to ride a bike and myself teaching her how to bake. 

Our first ultrasound was performed at my first prenatal appointment.  All I could see was a flicker on the screen indicating her heartbeat, but it was enough for me.  I was in love with my beautiful baby. 

By my third month of pregnancy, my blood pressure began to rise.  My OBGYN gave me a blood pressure medication and referred me to a specialist.  This new doctor wanted to perform ultrasounds every six weeks to monitor Kelli’s progress.  I was thrilled that I would get to have a “sneak peek” at my baby more often than most.

At my 18 week ultrasound appointment we found out that we were definitely having a girl.  We were told that everything seemed to be normal, and I was happy.  We began to put the finishing touches on the nursery we had started setting up long before Kelli was ever conceived.  We bought pink clothes and toys, all the while envisioning the arrival of our beautiful, healthy baby girl - our miracle from God.

Our next ultrasound was scheduled for December when I was 24 weeks pregnant. My husband planned to meet me at the doctor’s office which was located halfway between his job and mine – about a 10 minute walk for each of us.  We were both excited about seeing Kelli again.  The ultrasound tech began the test, and the outline of Kelli’s body appeared on the screen, bringing an instant smile to my face.  There was my miracle baby.  The tech continued to move the wand over my belly, and I realized that this was taking longer than normal.  When the tech was finished, she told us the doctor would be in shortly, and she left the room.  It took awhile for the doctor to join us which was another clue that something wasn’t quite right.  When he did, he pulled up one of the ultrasound pictures and showed us that one of Kelli’s femurs was significantly shorter than the other.  In an instant, all of the dreams I had had for years shattered into a million pieces.  What did this mean for my child?  How would she get around?  What kind of life would she have?  Would she be accepted by others or would she have to endure a life of teasing?  We could never teach her to ride a bike, use roller skates, or play tag.  I feared I would never see her all dressed up for her prom or walk down the aisle in a white dress on her wedding day.  Who would want to date a girl with a disability?  What had happened to my miracle?  So many emotions filled me, but I couldn’t find the words to speak or ask verbalize the swarm of questions crowding my head.

The doctor couldn’t have answered my questions even if I was able to ask them.  He had never seen this before and couldn’t offer any advice.  He told us to set up an appointment in four weeks to monitor Kelli’s growth.  And that was it.

I fought back the tears as I trudged alone back to my car which was several blocks away.  On the way, I called my parents to tell them the news.  It was difficult to speak even then and not break down right there in the middle of town.  My husband and I spent the next four weeks scouring the Internet for information but came up empty handed.  Without a specific diagnosis, we had little to go on.  The rest of my pregnancy was spent trying to come to terms with the fact that my child would have a disability.  Gone were my dreams of life with a “normal” child.

We met with another doctor at the practice in January of 2009 for our next ultrasound.  This doctor was more compassionate but still did not have many answers.  He seemed to want to help, but since he had not seen this before, he could do little.  He did offer to schedule another ultrasound for us in February, free of charge, to continue monitoring Kelli’s development.

Kelli Beth was born on February 13, 2009 – three days before our next ultrasound appointment and almost a month before my due date.  She was so tiny – and absolutely beautiful.  Yes, her left leg was about two inches shorter than her left, but she was healthy otherwise.  I was finally holding my miracle, and I loved her unconditionally.  It didn’t matter anymore that there was a discrepancy with her leg.  She was my daughter, my miracle child, and I was extremely thankful.

The doctors at the hospital were unable to answer any questions about her leg and told us to ask our pediatrician to refer us to an orthopedist.  We followed this advice and met with an orthopedic doctor on March 2.  He diagnosed Kelli with Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency, or PFFD.  He said her hip socket and the ball of the femur appeared to be missing and the femur itself was shorter than the one in the right.  While it was too early for treatment options, he said the usual options are either a hip surgery with several bone lengthening surgeries to follow or an amputation and a prosthetic.  He seemed to be leaning more and more each visit toward amputation – something we wanted desperately to avoid.  I couldn’t stand the thought of Kelli losing her perfectly formed foot with those adorable little toes.

Since that visit, we have consulted with two other doctors.  Both seem to think that she will be able to have a superhip surgery followed by several bone lengthening surgeries.  However, right now we are waiting to see how her bones form over the next year or so before any surgeries are performed.  In a few more months, we will be getting a shoe lift for her to help her as she learns to walk.  While we wait, we are networking with other parents online to find out their stories and hear their advice.   We are also doing extensive research on our own.

Kelli is now almost 8 months old.  Her sweet disposition, sparkling blue eyes, and warm smile has drawn others towards her.  No one has made fun of her, rejected her, or laughed at her because of her disability.   I hope that this continues as she grows older.

She hasn’t let this condition slow her down at all.  Kelli is figuring out a way to crawl and is even taking steps when we hold her hands. 

Everyday I am amazed at what my daughter can do.  Nothing stops her.  She is my hero and my teacher.  She has taught me about determination, perseverance, and being content in all circumstances.   I love her so much, and I thank God daily for this miracle that He has given to me.  (written Oct 2009)