Once Don got me calmed down, my parents stayed with me so that he could go to the other hospital to see the baby. My parents-in-law had slipped out as well saying that they would return later. Mother and I sat and stared at each other in between the bouts of uncontrollable sobbing. I kept telling her that I needed my baby. I thought I would lose my mind not knowing what was happening and not being at least able to see him.

The surgery had been very difficult and more severe than usual. Because Duncan had been lodged in the birth canal for so many hours, he had become trapped. In order to free him, the doctor was forced to straddle me on the operating table and pull up the top half of the incision with both hands while surgical rib spreaders were used and another doctor worked the baby free. Forty-four weeks of pregnancy without a single stretch mark blown to kingdom come in 15 minutes with that one maneuver! Funny, huh?

The nurses said that I should spend my time walking the halls so that I could recover and go home more quickly. I could barely straighten up or move, much less walk but I was determined that I was going to the other hospital to see my son. Wild horses weren't going to keep me in that hospital any longer than absolutely necessary! My mother walked with me, or rather, shuffled along with me. My arms ached for Duncan but all I had to hold were cold, metalic wall rails along the hosiptal corridors. I walked. No matter the pain and exhaustion. I walked. I walked for myself and healing. I walked for my son and his need to be in my arms and not the arms of a stranger at another hospital. I walked away the hurt, the anger, the exhaustion. I walked away everything but my incredible need. As I walked, I prayed. Please let the doctors be wrong. Please let my baby be normal and this all be some horrible mistake. Please don't take this child from me. Please. Please Please. I walked until there was nothing left . . . no thought, no feeling, no pain. I walked. I couldn't go back to that room without the part of myself which now resided across town. Though surrounded by friends and family, I was so alone.

My parents-in-law returned bearing gifts. One was a teddy bear that smelled like baby powder and the other was a big stuffed rocking horse that also smelled like baby powder. My mother-in-law said that I was to sleep with the teddy bear tucked into my gown at my breast that night so that it would smell like me. They were taking the rocking horse to Duncan that evening to sleep with him. The following day, they would pick up the stuffed animals and play switcheroo so that I would have something that smelled like my baby and my baby would have something that smelled like me. I must have looked like an idiot with that big teddy bear stuffed into the bodice of my nightgown but I didn't care. Anything for my son to feel less alone and freightened. Then my father-in-law pulled out a huge, fuzzy, blue, floppy eared, stuffed bunny. He said it was to fill my empty arms until I could have my baby back. He said I needed something soft to hold. I had given up sleeping with stuffed animals when I was 9 and yet here I was at 33 doing it as if I were 5 again. They gave me confort knowing that they were really Duncan's and would smell like me. I was so worried that he would bond with some nurse and forget me if I couldn't get to him soon.

When Don reached Texas Children's Hospital, he stood outside the NICU that held our son. He heard an infant screaming in horrible pain inside and felt his heart wrench. He went in, scrubbed up and put on the hospital gown which was required. As he walked around the corner, he saw a group of doctors and nurses surrounding one of the babies and working on it. The infant was obviously in extreme distress and pain. Then Don was told that it was Duncan. Our son was receiving an unauthorized spinal tap which could have paralyzed him for life. Don would have to wait until the medical team were finished with their first of many tests to be performed on our little boy.

Don spoke with a geneticist from Baylor and was told that a DNA test for Achondroplasia had been preformed and the results would be back in a few days, perhaps a week. He also said that Duncan's physical appearance almost certainly confirmed the condition. Duncan was born with a normal sized trunk but the tops of his arms and legs were shorter than normal. His head was much larger than average for his body size, the bridge of his nose was slightly flattened, his forehead protruded slightly and he had what is called trident fingers which is a splaying of the fingers. The DNA test would absolutely confirm what doctors had been using visual examination to diagnose for centuries - Achondroplasia, the most common form of dwarfism worldwide.

Duncan still couldn't coordinate his suck, swallow, breathe reflex and was having apnea episodes when he would quit breathing. Consequently, he was on tube feedings and an apnea monitor as well as oxygen. He had IV's to keep his fluids up and as a quick way to give him meds in the event of an emergency. Don spent the next few days running between hospitals, taking friends and family to see the baby, one at a time. A group would ride over with Don and wait in the NICU waiting room while each took their turn going in with Don and holding the baby. My parents-in-law bought a Polaroid camera along with the stuffed animals and left it with Don so that pictures could be taken of my baby every day until I could see him and finally, hopefully, take him home. There were pictures of Duncan in his crib, being held by his Daddy, being held by everyone but me. They were the most beautiful pictures I had ever seen in my life. They helped me get through when the pain was so bad I didn't think I could walk anymore. I HAD to proove to the doctors that I was well enough to leave the hospital. My son needed his mother and, quite frankly, his mother needed him. I would go to him soon if it killed me.

Duncan was born on a Thursday night. On Sunday morning, the doctors decided that I would heal more quickly if I could go home. I was refusing all pain medicine at this point and walking fairly well though I still couldn't straighten up completely. My staples were removed and I was released with strict orders to go straight home and get into bed. Don was already at the other hospital and my parents were with me upon my release. I did what any child does when they want something from their parents; I begged and cried until they agreed to take me directly to my son rather than home. We had to part far from the elevators in the parking garage because there weren't many parking spaces left. There were no adult wheelchairs to be had since this was a children's hospital. Once again, I would have to walk. I leaned on my father. I walked across that parking garage. I stood and waited for the elevator for what seemed like an eternity. As I stepped from the elevator onto the floor where my son was staying, I beheld what seemed like the longest of all corridors but it was the most important one I would ever walk. It was the final barrier between me and my son.

I scrubbed and put on a hospital gown. I walked toward the nurses station to find out where my baby was. A nurse rounded the corner and said, "You must be Mrs. Wells! Your baby is right over here!" and she took me to the first bed on the other side of the wall. There I saw my son for the first time since he had left the other hospital on Friday morning. He had grown since then and I was amazed. He was the most beautiful baby in the nursery and had strawberry blond hair! It had continued to turn more and more red each day. He was also the loudest baby there! I was informed that if Duncan got upset, the nursing staff rushed to quiet him before he set off the entire nursery. They didn't mind though because he was so cuddly. I was given a glider chair and a big pillow. I just sat and watched my baby sleep. I watched ever breath, listened to every sigh, noticed every tiny movement. I watched the monitor and the nurse explained what eerything meant. Every line, every beep, every color - I wanted to know what they were monitoring and what every reading told them. Then the nurse quietly asked if I'd like to hold him. I had never held my child, not once since he was born and had only touched him twice. There was nothing I wanted more in the world than to hold my little boy. She gently removed him from the steel crib and placed him in my arms. He snuggled into my arms, got comfortable, then opened his eyes and looked at me. We both fell in love at that very moment. He let out a small sigh and quietly cuddled against my breast. The nurse told me that he was a beautiful baby and they loved him dearly but that this was the quietest he had been while awake since his arrival. As far as he was concerned, he was finally where he belonged. The feeding tube, which he had pulled out numerous times, was no longer a problem for him and neigher were the IV and oxygen tubes or the electrodes. He was happy just to be in my arms. We watched and listened and touched each other for an hour. I hadn't noticed that my father had slipped out and was replaced by Don. When Duncan finally drifted back into sleep, Don gently told me that it was time to go home so that I would be well enough to return in a day or so. He placed our son back into that horrible steel cage that the hospital called a baby bed and took me home to my own bed.

I was never left alone during the first two weeks of my return home from the hospital. My family was not only worried about my physical well being after such a difficult birth but also about my mental well being. The doctors still were not able to tell us if our son would live. His breathing was very labored and the monitors rang out constantly. The nurses would try at each feeding to give him formula by bottle only to have him quit breathing each time. If he couldn't coordinate his suck, swallow, breathe reflex soon, the doctors said, we may lose him. Don was not only allowed to take his vacation during this time but was also given a short paternity leave. My mother-in-law also took vacation and she and my father-in-law stayed with me during my first 5 days at home. They did everything for me while Don spent most of his days at the hospital with Duncan. I got to go to the hospital every other day for 4 to 6 hours to see my new son. Once my in-laws had done their "tour of duty", my family took over. Sometimes it was my parents who sat with me; sometimes it was my brother or his new wife. While they all tried to help, I grieved. I grieved for the perfect child who would never be. I grieved for the long legged, long fingered piano player I had always dreamed of giving birth to. I grieved for the torment he was suffering in the hospital. I grieved for our dreams and plans for the future that were now gone because of astronomical medical bills. I grieved for me and the fact that I had not been able to give Don a perfect son, the only child we would have together - my only child. How could it be that so many women delivered perfect children who didn't want even them? Women who didn't take care of their bodies during their pregnancies and yet managed to have healthy, perfect children. What had I done wrong? Why had this happened to me? Why God? Why? The truth of the matter was that it was nobody's fault at all; not mine and not Don's. When the DNA test came back, the young geneticist called us into a small conference room to explain the results. I came armed with a large notepad and pen. We had written down numerous questions. The doctor came armed with a large folder full of handouts about medical/geneteic defects. There was exactly one two page document referring to Achondroplasia inside. Within that two page document, there was one paragraph about the disorder and addresses on how to contact Little People of America and The Human Growth Foundation. We were told that Achondroplasia is usually a spontaneous genetic mutation and that there was no way to tell if my DNA or Don's had mutated. When we tried to question the geneticist about what we could expect for our son, how tall he would be, life expectancy, intelligence, medical problems, how the genetic defect had occurred, he could not give us much information. He finally said that he really didn't know that much about Achondroplasia and that our best source for information and help was to contact Little People of America as soon as we got home that afternoon. Then he had the nerve to ask us if he and his colleagues could follow Duncan throughout his childhood and study him! Don said he would let him know later because at this point I was crying almost hysterically. The doctor quietly left us to our grief and still unanswered questions.

As the days passed, Duncan grew stronger and more healthy. He finally coordinated his suck, swallow, breathe reflex and was taken from tube feedings to bottle feedings. When he was about 7 days old, he was allowed to nurse with me for the first time. I was so nervous. Would we be able to do this after so long waiting to start? Would Duncan even want to nurse after getting used to the bottle. The hospital sent a lactation consultant to Duncan's bedside to help me learn how to hold him and encourage him. Duncan had been given Chlorohydrate the day before which he had a severe allergic reaction to. He was extremely fussy as a result and refused the breast. I was worried that he would never want to nurse. The lactation consultant said that we should wait and try again the following day. Then she volunteered personal information that helped me tremendously. Sixteen years before her own daughter had been born with difficulties. The baby had been given Chlorohydrate as well and refused to nurse afterward but after 24 hours, the baby wanted no bottles and no pacifiers. She wanted her mommy to give her dinner. We tried again the next day. Duncan latched on like a little pro with no problems and absolutely no hesitation. He quickly decided that this was much better than waiting for bottles to heat. The feeding tube was removed completely. Duncan began refusing bottles at times and crying for me. I wanted to take my baby home but the doctors said that there were still more tests to be completed. More waiting.

What To Excpect For Duncan???

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