Developmental Amnesia or a mother's love for her son

I was ecstatic about having another baby. My daughter was 9 and we thought we were "done". God had other plans for our family. I was overjoyed to discover it would be a boy. I wanted a boy, my husband definitely wanted a boy and my daughter wanted a brother. I had a pretty good pregnancy. There was an issue of the baby's kidneys not growing at an equal rate and so we had plenty of ultrasounds. The sex of the baby was confirmed each and every ultrasound and I got giddy each time I saw his little body on that screen.
I was clumsier than usual during my pregnancy and had many small falls. But then it happened, a VERY big fall. Feet flew and I hit the ground hard. I picked myslef up and dusted myself off, but in the back of my mind...I was concerned. I began having contractions the next day. I immediately called my doctor's office and the nurse told me to put my feet up and take a Tylenol. I did and the contractions stopped. Over the course of the next week, I had contractions on and off. Since I had a ceasarean with my daughter, I didn't know one contraction from the next, but I'll tell you...I was NOT liking the experience.
Saturday morning, June 10, 2000, my mother was packing to go back to Mississippi. She had come for my baby shower and was going back home to wait until it was "time". I took a shower and as I held my head under the running water to rinse the shampoo away, I saw stars. I carefully stepped from the shower, dressed and then went to call the doctor's office once again. I just felt something was NOT ok. (I always tell moms-to-be to TRUST this instinct.) I hugged my mom before she got in her car and I sat and waited for the nurse to call me back. By this time, I was light headed and contractions were 6 minutes apart. The nurse called and offered the same advice and added I should try a warm bath. (Was she insinuating I just needed to relax?) Big Daddy was due home from work about 7 p.m. By the time he arrived, I was writhing in pain on the bed and hated to tell him I thought we better go downtown to the hospital, just to be safe. I could tell he was tired and I didn't want big sister to have to sit in a boring hospital room while we waited for the doc to tell me I was fine. I briefly thought we should drop her at a friend's house, but I'm so glad we didn't make the time for that.
By the time we arrived at the hospital, my contractions were right on top of one another. I was one BIG contraction. I was screaming on the inside because I didn't want to scare my little princess. Big Daddy pulled into valet and they wheeled me to the elevator and into Labor and Delivery. I was thinking of all the things I had yet to accomplish before the DAY. The nursery was still the junk room and I still had shower gifts in boxes. It cannot be time. I'm not ready! I gowned and crawled into the bed. The nurse strapped the monitor on and immediately paged the doctor. My doctor wasn't on call but I knew the doctor who was. He had delivered many babies in our family. He told me we couldn't wait. The baby was in distress and it would be best to take him now. He was a good weight and would do well...and THEN alarms from the monitors. My son was gone. The nurses jumped on my bed as they unplugged me from the wall monitors and the doctor yelled "Prep for emergency section". I wanted to scream in terror but there was my darling girl watching me for signs that it would be alright. The last thing I remember is the mask going over my face.
I awoke with a nurse by my bed and my husband holding my hand. "Where's the baby? Is he alright?" He was in NICU and they didn't know if he was alright. He was born blue with a 0 apgar. He was on full life suppport. His EEG was flatlined. My son was brain dead. The nurse said they would take me in to see him on the way up to my room. They pushed my bed in beside him and I could hardly see him for all the wires that were hooked up to him. His kidneys weren't working and they had IV's and EEG leads and who knows what else hooked up to my baby boy.
I was in and out until the next day. The NICU doctor came in and talked to us about removing him from life support. I could not think of that until I saw him. The nurse told me I could see him as soon as I could stand and walk on my own. Loaded with pain meds, you can BET I was up in a flash and ready to go down to NICU. I arrived and the nurses brought a chair over. His kidneys started working during the night. It was a sign to me from God that it wasn't time to remove life support. Every day there was a little bit of improvement. By the third day, the neurologist came to tell us there was some brain activity. At the end of the fifth day, they removed the ventilator. The nurses told me that the doctors were stunned. There was no scientific reason why my son should still be here on this earth. Of course science couldn't explain it. My son was held in his Father's hand. I was moved one evening as I walked into the unit and saw the nurses holding hands and praying around my little angel before the shift changed. We knew God saved our son for a reason.
At the end of the 25th day, the nurses and doctors began to prepare us to take our son home. His brain function was almost normal. He wouldn't eat on his own and couldn't maintain his body temp. By the 27th day, he was eating from a bottle and maintaining body temp. The neurologist couldn't tell us how bad the brain damage was. We would just have to watch and wait.
Now when I tell this story to people who only know my handsome, clever, silly boy...they cannot believe it. Although his development was slightly delayed, he's done everything a boy should do. Here's the big BUT...my son cannot remember much. He will ask you the same question 20 times in an hour until he finally processes it into a memory, I suppose. He never remembers where his shoes are or what he ate for lunch yesterday. We giggle together sometimes about it. As he progressed in school, it became more apparent that he struggled. While remembering what he ate for lunch yesterday isn't that big of a deal, remembering how to work a math problem IS. In this journey, we've had wonderful teachers and not so great teachers. I've had a teacher tell me I just need to medicate him so he'll pay attention. REALLY? Because if they had a medication that would reverse brain damage DON'T YOU THINK WE WOULD HAVE ALREADY TRIED THAT????
I've become educated about brain trauma and injury. That's what I do when I feel helpless. I read. I research. I call upon special friends who research the brain (I love George). Our family relocated to another district to try and get the attention my little man needed. It's working and all I can say is I am finally breathing a sigh of SOME relief. His teachers recognize his intelligence and wit, but they also recognize he learns differently than everyone else. We are finally getting tested and he will finally get the help he needs to overcome some of his classroom obstacles. I want him to feel proud instead of defeated. I'm beginning to see his joy again, but I know it'll take some time.