More Than One Can “Bare”!

These are a few of the statements people make to you when you are going through some difficulties and struggles. I’m sure these statements may bring someone to mind:

“He never gives you more than you can handle.” “Trust the plan.” “This too shall pass.”

These are a few of the statements people make to you when you are going through some difficulties and struggles. I’m sure these statements may bring someone amity but these sentiments can often feel like daggers. 

Why would anyone want to hear this in their time of mental, physical, or emotional distress? This was especially the case when my second son was born. He was only 1lb 13oz. He could fit in the palm of my hand and his chance of survival was slim to none. His premature birth at 26 weeks gestation was due to my ex-husband’s physical abuse. A venomous abuse that resulted in a broken jaw and a misaligned uterus. So, I could only think, please don’t try to console me in my current state or while my mind played through so many scenarios. None of those thoughts were positive. There are just some moments in life when we might want to restrain ourselves from making these “consoling” statements.

“Here you go,” the nurse stated as she handed me my bundle of joy.

I mean this is the normal expression when your 9 months of pregnancy is over and you get to hold your final product. Yeah, well this wasn’t a full run pregnancy and for the first time after having three tremendous rushes with anticipation of “What will my baby look like?” I was scared. 

“You can only hold him for a few minutes as we need to get him to the Neo Unit,” the nurse continued on.

“A few minutes (my mind reviewed the nurse’s statement),” my heart sank deeper and I outstretched my arms. Arms were unnecessary as this “Peanut” (as his nickname would come to be) could fit in the palm of my hand. 

“I will lay him on your chest until the neo unit is ready,” the nurse stated. 

She laid him upon my chest as I peered down at this fragile, under-sized human and he lifted his head. Our eyes locked and I felt a wave of hope and security rush over me. I knew it was going to be alright. In a flash, the nurses ran over and scooped him up.

“What are you doing, little one? You’re going to hurt yourself,” the Senior Staff Nurse stated.

I see why she would believe that he would hurt himself. This tiny human not only fit in my hand, but his head-to-body ratio was about 60/40 in favor of the head.

I lied there in astonishment and relief but I also couldn’t fool myself into believing this was going to be easy. 

An hour later the nurse reentered my room. “Mrs. Fitchett, I need to ask you some questions. Now, this is not meant to offend but we need to know.” As soon as I heard “meant to offend,” I prepared to be just that. “Were you on any drugs during pregnancy?”

I tried to wrap my brain around her question as not only was this a ridiculous accusation but I quit smoking during pregnancy so it was indeed an insult. “Um, NO ma’am I did not,” was my reply.

Nurse: “Ok. Well, I had to ask as he was breathing fine at birth, but his breathing is lowering. Can you think of anything you may have eaten or drunk in excess?”

I thought for a minute then stated, “Coffee, tea, and Pepsi.”

“Great,” she replied. “I’ll be right back.”

Sometime later I would be updated that my son was on caffeine drops as this was helping him to breathe on his own. These drops did assist with breathing but they still used the ventilator to assist thus causing him to later (at 18-months old) be diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy.

He would spend the longest 3 months and one day of my life in the Neo-natal Unit until being released at 4 pounds 15 ounces. His development, unlike the rest of his siblings, wasn’t up to standards but mentally he was smart as a whip. We would find out over time that he was born with a blood clot in the right ventricle of the brain that rested on the part controlling motor skills, thus contributing to developmental delays, and a heart murmur. 

Three children of “normal” standards and one that would be dependent upon me solely, was really teetering on “more than I could bear.” 

Life would bring endless appointments with specialists, special equipment for bathroom usage, daily chores, and multiple surgeries. “More than one can bear?” 

When the father has chosen his single freedom over doing what is needed for his child, this left me on the playground see-saw holding it up all alone. I can’t abandon my child. I must do all I can. How do I help him feel some sense of normalcy? I began to question every step I took and every move I made–I’m sure you’ve heard this song before. 

How much can you bear?

When you wrap this up with the pretty bow of poverty, you know it’s “more than you can bear.” What next!!!!!? You can’t jump ship; everyone is depending on you. This is where you see exactly what you are made of, and believe me, it’s not easy. You have to take it one step at a time and if you miss a step and fall on your face, you bandage it in silence and take a new set of steps tomorrow. The path you choose is always littered with obstacles and never guaranteed but throughout it all, more than one can “bare,” is always present.

More Than One Can “Bare”