A Mother's Fear

What is a mother’s greatest fear as the days of pregnancy pass? Fear, for me, began at that first sign of a positive pregnancy test. The terrible thoughts that flood your mind are unavoidable at times. Will I miscarry?  Can I care for the child once it’s here? Perhaps the greatest of all, will my baby be healthy? 

 I can feel the cold hardwood floors beneath my bare feet as I sat on the side of my bed. I was staring straight ahead into a mirror on the back of a worn brown dresser when my phone rang. 

“Hello?” I answered quietly. 

“Hi Miss Yancey. I am calling from Augusta Health Care for Women. It seems we didn’t get all of the pictures that were needed of your baby. Can you come back in today?” 

I agreed and quickly ended the phone call. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears at this point. My mind was playing angel vs. devil. In one instance, I would tell myself everything was fine. This probably happens all of the time. The next, I was consumed with horrible thoughts about what was wrong with my baby. Perhaps, I had a gut feeling this would happen as the ultrasound tech seemed less than happy when I was there the day prior. 

A short time later, I found myself laying on an ultrasound table in a dark room. The waiting was intensifying my nervousness. Finally, the door opened and in walked my favorite person to see at this office, Dr. Thompson. Dr. Thompson was the doctor who delivered me when I was born and I had seen him for every visit leading up to this point of my pregnancy. Something about his presence made my jaw unclench and the fists I was making relax. After greeting each other, he informed me that he would be doing this ultrasound himself. 

He lifted the clear bottle and squirted a large amount of cold gel onto my stomach and began pressing down. My little angel appears on the screen next to me. One by one, we looked over her entire body. Dr. Thompson would stop and explain to me exactly what we were seeing and how each part connected to the next. 

As we neared the end, so did his words. It got silent. I laid and watched the screen as he pushed harder and harder on my stomach in attempt to get a clearer picture. After what seemed like an eternity, he pointed to the screen and outlined what, in his words, should look like a kitten paw. He asked if I saw the issue with the “kitten paw” that was previewed on the screen. Honestly to me, all I could see was black and white patterns that moved constantly, much like the static images from my great grandma’s old floor TV while we were trying to watch the newest episode of MASH. He ran his finger on the screen back and forth across a black shadow right in the middle of this kitten paw we were looking at together. 

“This shouldn’t be here” he stated quickly. “Your daughter has a cleft lip and possibly a cleft palate but we cannot be sure until she is born.”

My worst fear quickly turned into my reality. I spent much of the next days in a dark room with tear filled eyes. The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and my regularly scheduled doctor’s appointments doubled over this time. They ran so many tests I eventually lost count but they never found anything else wrong with my baby. There were no signs of any other birth defects or abnormalities which seemed to surprise them. I was told repeatedly that a cleft lip and palate was usually associated with other congenital malformations, but my baby was perfect.

As time passed, so did my fears. I knew that I was made to be this baby’s mother and we would make it through any obstacle put in our way. My new positive mindset came just in time because on January 27th, 2016, I welcomed the most beautiful baby girl into this world. She had coal black hair, scrunched toes, the smallest slit in her top lip, and a palate. The most wonderful words that have ever filled my ears. 

“She has a palate!!” the nurse shouted as she took her thumb out of my newborn baby’s mouth. 

The next few months went by as uneventful as they can with a newborn baby. We had the usual sleepless nights, days filled with exhaustion, but never any issues because of her cleft lip. We met with a surgeon and decided that her lip would be repaired for her own wellbeing as she grew into a girl and then a woman, but the truth is I was sad for it to no longer be there. In the strangest way possible, that tiny slit, that looked as if it could’ve been done with a pair of kitchen scissors, made her who she was and to me she was perfect. 

My life as I knew it was forever changed by that tiny, perfect little girl. I knew before I ever saw her face that I would spend the rest of my days protecting and caring for her in whatever capacity she needed. The small imperfection that I was so distraught about initially, ended up being a part of her that I will forever hold close to my heart. She taught me to love myself through loving her before she ever took her first breath. She taught me true unconditional love and that a mother’s fear can easily become a mother’s fortune.