As a prospective father with cerebral palsy, I tried to prepare, but emergency delivery gave me a crash course.
After reading dozens of baby carriers on the Internet, I couldn’t find one that would allow me to tie the baby to my chest with only one hand. In a few months, my wife Lisa will give birth to our first child, and I am looking for the perfect carrier to relieve my anxiety as a pregnant woman with cerebral palsy.
I tried the three straps shown in the store, one was second-hand, and the other was bought online, which looked like a small hammock. Fixing any of them with your left hand alone is not an option-and the need to tie multiple pieces of fabric together seems like a cruel joke. After sending them back to the store, I finally admitted that Lisa needed to help me fasten our baby boy in the seat belt.
At the age of 32, my CP can be controlled most of the time. Although my right foot may cramp, I can walk on my own. My sister taught me how to tie shoelaces when I was a teenager, and I learned how to drive with the help of adaptive devices in my 20s. Nevertheless, I still type with one hand.
Despite the daily restrictions, I spent many years trying to forget that I have a disability, and until recently did I neglect to reveal my CP to some of my closest friends because of my fear of judgment. When we first dated eight years ago, it took me a month to tell Lisa about it.
After trying to hide the crooked and constantly clenched right hand for most of my life, I am now determined to fully accept my disability during Lisa’s pregnancy. I returned to physical therapy for the first time from childhood to learn new skills, such as changing diapers with both hands, so that I could prepare physically for my first child. It is also very important for me to find acceptance in my disabled body, setting an example of self-love for my son Noah.
After a few months of our hunting, Lisa finally found a BabyBjörn mini strap, which my physical therapist and I thought was the best choice. The strap has simple snaps, clips, and the smallest buckle. I can fix it with one hand, but I still need some help to fix it. I am planning to try out the new carrier and other adaptive equipment with Lisa’s help after our son arrives.
What I didn’t expect was how challenging it would be to raise a child as a disabled person even before my son returned home. The painful delivery and emergency after delivery meant that I had to take care of Noah for the first two days of life without Lisa’s help.
After 40 hours of childbirth-including four hours of pushing, and then when Lisa’s doctor determined that Noah was stuck, an emergency C-section was performed-our baby came to this world in good health, with long and beautiful eyelashes- —This is the curtain of fact that the doctor yelled during the operation.
Lisa joked with the nurse while collecting vital signs in the recovery area, and I tried to lift our baby with my right arm so that his mother could see his rosy cheeks lying next to us. I focused on keeping my arms stable, because my CP made my right side weak and cramped, so I didn’t notice more nurses starting to flood the room.
The nurses were worried when they tried to stop the blood loss. I looked helplessly, trying to calm Noah’s cry by lying on my trembling right arm with his small body.
Lisa went back under anesthesia so that the doctor could pinpoint the bleeding site and performed an embolization operation to stop the bleeding. My son and I were sent to the delivery room alone, while Lisa went to the intensive care unit for monitoring. By the next morning, she will receive a total of six units of blood transfusion and two units of plasma.
Lisa’s doctor kept repeating that when she was transferred to the delivery room after two days in the ICU, they were happy to see her alive. At the same time, Noah and I are alone.
My mother-in-law joined us during visiting hours, helping me only when necessary, and giving me space to reposition Noah when my right hand involuntarily closed. I’m sure that the braces will also be useful, although I didn’t expect to unpack it when changing the diaper.
In the hospital rocking chair, my right hand was hanging weakly because I discovered how my disproportionate forearm kept Noah stable, and I lifted and fed him with my left hand-I quickly found it under my right elbow Stacking pillows and leaning on the baby to enter my bent arm is the way to go. The plastic bag with his bottle cap can be opened with my teeth, and I learned to hold the bottle between the chin and neck while picking him up.
A few years ago, I finally stopped avoiding questions about my CP. When someone raised a handshake that I couldn’t respond to, I just said that I have a disability. The delivery room is not a place that makes me worry about my disability, so I announce to every nurse who comes to check on Noah that I have CP
My limitations are more obvious than ever. As a disabled father, my parents will be very vulnerable. I am often considered to be a non-disabled person, and it is frustrating to live between what many people think is normal and need help. However, during our two days in that delivery room, I was confident in my ability to raise Noah and defend myself.
On a sunny Sunday a few weeks after Lisa was discharged from the hospital, she put Noah in the harness, which was tied to my shoulders and chest in the middle of the harness. I use my right forearm, as I learned in the hospital, to hold him in place, while my left hand is tied to the top snap. At the same time, Lisa tried to push Noah’s chubby legs through small holes out of my reach. Once she tightened the last band, we were ready.
After some practice steps through the bedroom, Lisa and I walked a long way in our town. Noah slept in a seat belt wrapped around my torso, safe and secure.
Christopher Vaughan is a writer who also works in magazine publishing. He lives with his wife and son in Tarrytown, New York
Post time: Nov-15-2021
