the story continues ...

Home | the story continues ... | My Husband, My Hero | Nicky's Future ( Nicky's Fund ) | This is One Determined Child | About Meeting Street School | contact us
Nicky's Story

My Husband, My Hero



After carrying me into the house and putting me to bed, my husband sat down on the couch, put his face down into his hands and just cried.  Never in all of the years we've been together had he seen me in such pain.  It was like he felt it too.  He tried everything he could to make me comfortable.  As a consequence for staying home and taking care of me, he was fired from his job as a FED-EX Driver.  He said, "If my bosses can't understand what we are going throughand have just a little sympathy, then I don't want to work for them."  At this very moment, nothing seemed to matter to him except for our son, Kyle, our unborn son, Nicholas, and me.
 
A couple of days later, it happened again.  The pains came back.  Rather than call the doctor, my husband rushed me to the emergency room again.  This time, my husband was the demanding one.  He brought me in to the emergency room and, as I started to speak, his voice overcame mine.  He sat me down on the hard, cold, unbearable benches in the waiting room, trying to make me as comfortable as he possibly could, and walked right up to the nurses' station. He would not take no for an answer this time and said, "I want my wife's doctor now!"

scan10075.jpg






All of the times we went into the emergency room, my doctor never came down to see me.  Having said that, I was never seen by a doctor.  Nurse after nurse came to see me, but not even the on-call doctor would examine me.  The nurses did the same things as last time, ad this time one of the nurses said, "It is all in your head, just an anxious young teenager who wants her body back.  We see it all the time."  You can imagine where I told her to go.  Getting back to my pre-pregnancy weight was the last thing on my mind.  Once again I was given pain medication and sent home, but this time the nurse said, "Don't come back until you are in full blown labor, and I mean when your contractions are at least three minutes apart!"  I cried and, with a very evil look on my face, I said, "Lady you are crazy!  Is this how you treat all of your young patients or is it just me?"
 
This happened two more times in the same week.  Every single time I went to the emergency room.  Not once did they give me a proper exam, nor did they do an ultrasound to see if they culd find something wrong with my baby.  If they had done an ultrasound, maybe they would have seen that my son's face was being crushed and he was losing oxygen to his brain.  While the nurses just sat around talking about what they were going to do Friday night, my son and I were suffering.  Thirty-six hours before Nicholas was born, he had a stroke in utero, due to lack of oxygen to his brain.
 
The day came, February 8th, 2001.  Not only did I have the abnormal, knife stabbing pains in my abdomen, I also started to have contractions.  Again, my husband brought me to the emergency room.  I was in so much pain that I had to gasp for air, nevermind trying to say, "Okay, um, I'm in labor now."  This time my husband was imperious.


The Freshwater Bass Fishing Instructor Supports this Site