Finding Home, Chapter 2; My Third Pregnancy

My Third Pregnancy 1985

When I became a mom and had conversations with my friends or even with people I didn’t really know, they were surprised I did not wish to have a girl. I would say I was lucky, I had two very healthy boys and that was most important. Though for those who knew me better the answer was more grave. I did not want a girl simply because I did not wish to take a chance she might be abused and suffer the way I had.
When I became pregnant for the third time I immediately knew something was different. I became more protective not only for the baby I was carrying, but for myself. This was not something I could explain, nor did I understand why I was so concerned about our safety. By this time I had no more illusions about my broken marriage to my first husband. I was in an abusive relationship with a man who had never been faithful to me from the very start. It was many years later I was told in a dream this man was paid to marry me.
It had been clear from the start there was no love in his heart for me, and now I realized it was because I was simply a business deal. I think somewhere in my heart I knew this, but how does one accept such an idea in this part of the world? I did not come from a culture where this would have been expected or accepted, so I dismissed the warning bells and told myself we had been in love at one time.
In truth I left him once before we married and was planning to leave again after we had been married only a short time. I had been making plans to fly to Vancouver and start on my own away from everyone and everything I knew. But before I could take the final steps I ended up in the hospital with a ruptured ovarian cyst. It was January 2, 1981. Less than a week later I underwent surgery and was being tested for cancer. Luckily my test results were negative for the cancer, but afterwards I had regular occurrences of ovarian cysts.
When I returned home from the hospital my husband had sworn to change, and he really seemed glad to have me home and relieved I didn’t have cancer. He actually began to treat me better and I felt I was in love with him. In truth I did’t know what it felt like to be in love. I wanted to believe he would no longer cheat on me as he had from the beginning of our marriage, and that he would start loving me as well in all ways. I became pregnant shortly after my operation and was so pleased to be starting my family.

Unfortunately, soon after learning of my pregnancy the now familiar cycle returned. He was cheating on me once more, staying out drinking, driving home drunk and generally not being a husband or a father, unless forced to in public. I realized now it would not be an easy choice to leave him because I had a family to consider. It was important to me I try to make it work for all of us.
I did leave him when my first son was just a baby, although I’m not certain I would have left the marriage, I was more intent on scaring him. His parents were coming for a visit, which was never an easy experience for me. Darrell’s mother did not like me and she found ways to make me feel small and unworthy of her son. For reasons I can’t remember now, on this particular day I could not face them and so just before they arrived I packed a suitcase, took my son and went to stay at a hotel until his parents left.
Darrell found me that night by driving around and locating our car in the parking lot. He called me at the hotel and asked me to come back. It was reassuring he made the effort to find me and ask me back, but I denied his request, I could not face them. He came to get me the next day and took me home with the promise things would get better: he would make more of an effort to defend and support me. I let him bring me home not because I was convinced things would indeed get better, but because I really did not know where else to go or what I’d do when I got there. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware it was not me he had come to bring back home, but our son Joshua who his parents had come to see. They would not have let me get away with keeping their grandson from them. It is amazing how we can convince ourselves everything is fine when it clearly is not.
Before I became pregnant with my daughter I was making plans to leave once again. I didn’t know how I would do it now having two young boys, but I was beginning to think in that direction. My husband would often leave our bed when he thought I was asleep, not returning until the wee hours of the morning. The truth is I was glad when he left because I was not comfortable with him being close to me or touching me. I would have to say I became pregnant from obligation rather than from a loving marital experience.
When I had only just confirmed the pregnancy my husband had made plans for us to visit his parents in Stettler, Alberta. What I didn’t realize was he had made an arrangement with his parents prior to leaving. I was only informed of the intent for this visit about 15 minutes outside of Stettler, where his parents lived. I was furious of course because it felt like a trap, one against three, and they had time to plan their strategy. Once I was faced with her desire to ‘get started,’ I got my back up and refused to participate, telling them I had nothing to say and I felt this was not the right time for this. But she started anyway.
Most of what happened was a blur, but I do remember they were not kind to me, so I was not kind back, saying things I would normally never say to anyone. The kids were really frightened, holding onto me and crying, so I began to gather up our things to leave. His mother told me if I left it would be alone, I would not be taking my children and my husband would not be going with me. I told her she could go to hell if she thought I would leave without my children, and as far as my husband was concerned, he would have to make up his own mind to stay or come with us.

I picked up my one son, held the hand of the other and headed to the car. I did not know if I would be going with or without my husband as I walked out the door, but he followed me, making his decision to drive us back home. I did not say much on the journey, but I cried most of the way home, humiliated and ashamed of what just took place.
Because of this little adventure I found it in me to become the cougar protecting her cubs. I can look back and say with certainty it was the pregnancy and the fact I was carrying a girl that gave me the strength and courage to finally stand up for my children and myself. I was demanding the respect which I felt I deserved, something new for me. I was furious for all I was having to put up with from my husband, his family and as I would later find out, my adoptive family who I learned upon arriving home were also part of this scheme.
I had barely walked in the door of our home when I got a phone call from Helen. She explained that Darrell’s mother had actually accused me of setting the whole meeting up, that I planned the whole thing. She said I had no right to keep her from her grandkids. And then Helen began to berate me for my behaviour. She was in agreement with Darrell’s parents and gave me no support on any point. I felt obligated to then give her my opinion, which mirrored what I had told Darrell’s parents, and then I hung up on her.
The list of things going on during this time —
– Terry had stage three cancer, needed immediate surgery, scheduled right after Christmas

– Ellen discovered she also had cancer, had a double mastectomy, her surgery spring of 1985

– I became pregnant with Rheann, due in July of 1985

– Josh, my oldest diagnosed with leukaemia spring of 1985 (later declared a mis diagnosis) – Josh also had foot issues which required wearing a brace

– Darrell’s parents were scheduled to come for Christmas (they cancelled two days before) – I was getting debilitating migraines almost daily

– My adoptive family was coming for Christmas dinner, always an uncomfortable experience

– Bruce almost died from Crones disease, also scheduled for surgery

– We were planning the 40th wedding anniversary which became a fiasco with many family issues coming to the surface

– We had company coming from both sides of the family (mine and Darrell’s) from Australia and Eastern Canada

It was a stressful pregnancy because of all the family issues and because I felt so alone and isolated from everyone, other than my children. My boys and the love I held for them was all I had and they gave me the strength to face what unravelled. I was supposed to have Darrell’s family for Christmas that year and was concerned about having to face them so soon after the big argument. We had not spoken or seen each other since that night, so I was pretty uncomfortable. It was the hardest Christmas I had ever experienced, not because of his family—they cancelled just two days before Christmas Day, but because of Darrell. He would not participate in any of the festivities, leaving everything up to me. He would not open his gifts or play with the kids or help with the meals or cleaning up. He was so upset his parents did not come he behaved like a child. The extra work was difficult for me because of the headaches, I was more tired than usual. Once again, if it had not been for the children I would not have stayed.
Because I was pregnant I could not take anything for the persistent headaches and was often sick. I was constantly worried about this child inside me, for some reason believing her life was threatened. I believe I drove my doctor crazy with the many visits and questions about the baby as I looked for reassurance that everything was fine.
The morning I went into labour Darrell went out to the car to load my suitcase. I was in the bedroom and had just hung up the phone to my parents who were coming to look after the boys when I heard a crash. I went to the kitchen to see what had happened. The ceiling dome light had somehow come undone and fell on the floor, smashing into a hundred pieces. In the back of my mind I knew it was an omen but was not of a mind to try to understand it just then. But how could the entire fixture just suddenly come undone?
My parents arrived while I was trying to clean up, pushing me out the door so they could finish cleaning up the mess. It was Sunday and my doctor was away for the weekend and would not be back ’til later that day. The covering doctor was very nice, but he was not my doctor and I was not comfortable.
After settling me into the birthing room the contractions were becoming pretty intense. I was fully dilated although there was a lip around the cervix, which was causing this doctor concern. Although I was needing to push, the doctor kept telling me not to. I had no idea how difficult and painful not being able to push could be, when the natural reflex was to push.
The nurse assisting me would wait until the doctors back was turned or he left the room, and tell me to go ahead and push. It would be ok. But I was worried I might do the baby some harm if I didn’t do what the doctor had told me. In the meantime they had called my doctor and he ended his weekend away early to come back for me. Three hours later when he walked into the room putting on his mask the first thing he said to me was to start pushing, even before he had checked me. I instantly did as he asked. The relief I felt to be able to push and bring my daughter into the world was unbelievable. It did not take long once I was allowed to push. Rheann had arrived.
Once she had been cleaned up, weighed and measured, she was brought to me and I was able to feed her. The doctor came to see me once I too had cleaned up and was resting in my room. He explained that my daughter had a clubfoot, not something to be overly concerned with, but he had asked a specialist to come in and treat her the next day. I wondered if this was the source of my concern throughout the pregnancy, and if it was, how silly of me to make so much of it.
Somehow it did not feel like the real source of concern. That night I woke up just after midnight and lay there waiting for the doctor who I seemed to know was coming to see me. He was surprised to find me propped up in bed waiting for him, which made him hesitate. He came and stood by my bed and began to explain Rheann also had wet lung.
This was not a serious condition, but she would have to spend time in an incubator until all the fluid had drained from her lungs. He left after this visit; a long day for him having stayed to deliver another baby after mine. I got up after thinking about what he told me and gathered the courage to go and face what was wrong with my daughter. I still did not feel I fully understood the problem. There was an exchange doctor from Australia in the nursery who saw the concern on my face, wasting no time in further explaining Rheann’s situation. I now had enough comfort and was able to go back to bed and rest.
I went to see her again first thing the next morning, wanting to know when she would be able to come out of the incubator so I could hold her. The foot specialist was with her, finishing his application of the cast on her tiny little foot. He explained the cast would help straighten her foot naturally and hopefully this would mean surgery would not be needed down the road.
I was allowed to feed her but could not hold her for long because it was important she spend as much time as possible in the incubator. They came to get me a short time later though, because she was crying and had thrown up her milk. She stopped crying as soon as I touched her and once again I fed her. It was hard to put her back because she started crying as soon as I set her down.
They thought it best that I leave the room, as she would probably fall asleep and would be fine once I was gone from her side. It was very had to walk away in that moment. When I went back the next time, the specialist had returned. This time he was removing the cast from her foot. She had not stopped crying and once again threw up her milk. This made them wonder if the cast had been wrapped too tight. They made the decision to remove it and leave it off until she was out of the incubator.

Once again, as soon as I held her she stopped crying and so I began to feed her once more, praying she would be able to keep the milk down. It was hard not to be concerned, but I believed taking the cast off was the answer and she would sleep soundly after I left. Once again just after midnight my doctor came to see me to explain they had done further tests including a spinal tap, and had just received the results. She was taken to ICN straight away and I could go see her there. I was never asked for permission to perform this risky test on Rheann.
According to them she had contracted Spinal Meningitis and needed to be isolated while they treated her. My mind was whirling, I had never heard of Spinal Meningitis and had no idea why she had it. I used the pay phone to call my husband (no cell phones back then, no apps to google what I was dealing with). I asked him to find the illness in the dictionary (still a common book back then) and he did. He explained it was an infection of the fluids and membranes around the brain and spinal cord. It could cause brain damage or in the worst-case scenario, death. I was in shock, not understanding the how or why, but understanding finally this was the source of my concern all those months of my pregnancy. The light falling in my kitchen the morning of her arrival seemed now to be very much an omen.
I entered the ICN to see her, afraid of what I would find. The nurse gave me a chair so I could sit close by. I was not allowed to touch her. She was on medication and asleep. It was explained if I had ever had a migraine headache I would have the beginning of understanding her pain, but I would have to intensify it ten or twenty times to come close to the pain she was in. In retrospect I find it a curious thing I experienced so many painful migraines from the beginning to the end of this pregnancy. They said just the movement of a hand going into the incubator would cause her severe pain. They had given her antibiotics. It was now a matter of time to see if treatment had begun soon enough.
The spinal tap was how they discovered her illness. It is hard to express how helpless I felt sitting there. Because I could not hold her, I just put my hand on the glass and prayed she would come out of this ok. The next morning when I went to visit her I began to look around and was rather shocked at what I saw beside me in the adjacent incubator. The nurse had explained to me this child was a twin born prematurely, her sister on the other side of the ward was doing much better. This one however was still critical. And of course looking at her it was obvious why: her skin was transparent and I could see and the most remarkable thing, I was seeing the beating of her tiny little heart.
Once I saw that miracle I didn’t see anything else, I was just in awe. If there had ever been a doubt about there being a God that was no more. To see such a miracle of life made me realize God does exist and I must never forget it. It gave me the strength I believe to face all that was still coming in my daughters and my future. Laying there Rheann was a mystery. She looked so healthy, the only baby there at full birth weight, she was perfect. It was difficult to see how she could be so deathly ill.

It would be three weeks before my daughter would come home and for two-and-a- half of those weeks I was at home, my doctor recommending I not stay at the hospital as my two boys also needed me. I could be here every day to feed her now she was released from critical care to the other ward. With a heavy heart I did go home as what he said made the most sense. I was able to return three times a day to feed her until she was well enough to come home to stay.
During those weeks she stayed in the hospital I learned that family is not always there for you and that sometimes it is best to separate yourself from them in order to survive.* This is what I began to do and it is also this experience which gave me the strength to walk away from my marriage and get the help I needed for the abuse I had suffered. It took me two years to accomplish, but I did make the change to move on.
My daughter was born in July, one week before my adopted parents 40th wedding anniversary. My older sisters had been planning the party for months. It had started out as a family picnic which would have allowed me to come whether with my daughter or otherwise. Her due date happened to be the same day as the party and they would not consider changing the date.
At some point they changed their minds, forgetting the much more practical idea for a daytime picnic, deciding on an evening dinner party with a live band instead, no kids allowed. This would cost $250 per family, an unexpected expense we really could not afford at the time. And, shortly before Rheann was born, Ellen decided all the items given to me when Joshua was born such as the crib, stroller and bassinet she wanted back so she could give them to someone else. This unexpected turn meant a significant additional expense we would have trouble managing, added onto the cost for the event. It really felt like a slap in the face, one which seemed very inappropriate at the time. Not only did they want us to pay, they were not concerned if we attended or not, which hardly seemed fair. Because of the changes they made in the plans it was almost assured I would not be able to attend.
As it turned out my daughter was born the week before and had she not been so ill the whole party situation might have worked out better. But really, the party it was not my main concern. Rheann’s life and wellbeing was what I needed to focus on. I just wanted her home and safe. I was not too concerned with the arrangements, the visitors or what they expected of me. It all seemed rather frivolous.
We had relatives coming from out East and I was expected to participate in all that was going on. They also felt I should put these relatives up in my home as I had an extra bedroom. This put me in an awkward position as I was traveling to the hospital three times a day. They made it very clear they were upset with me for making the choice to see my daughter rather than go out for lunch with everyone one afternoon. I was actually accused of behaving selfishly by not doing more to participate in the festivities. My Aunt from Montreal however, supported me, telling me in front of the others that my daughter was my priority and I must do all I could for her well being. She was the only one to express this sentiment during this incredible ordeal.
Not only were they critical of my choices, they also told me they were too busy to babysit, even for the two hours while I went to the hospital. I had not used a babysitter often and so I did not have many options. It is ironic because I was the one in the family everyone called when they needed help and I never turned anyone down. I had always been there for everyone. So it was a painful realization when I was in need everyone seemed strangely absent.
I had to practically beg Terry to let my niece babysit. I didn’t know anyone else I could ask. After thinking about it my sister finally agreed to let my niece come for the first week, I would have to find a different solution after that. I had promised to pay her as I would any other babysitter, grateful I had at least solved the problem for the first week.
My sister dropped her off 15-20 minutes late every day. This meant I arrived at the hospital late. While the hospital hallway seemed a mile long I could hear Rheann crying as the elevator door opened. I had to scrub, put on my gown and warm the milk warmed before I could enter the ward. I felt so bad knowing the crying was not good for her with her illness. But my sister seemed not to have any consideration for the severity of the situation or understanding of the consequence for being even fifteen minutes late. She would say, “Oh I just had to stop and get some things at the store and it took longer than expected.”
Rheann’s first feeding was at 11am, then once she was settled and I had spent some time with her I would drive home, get the boys and my niece their lunch, clean up, get supper started and do laundry etc. ad drive back to the hospital for the next feeding at 3pm. When I returned home from that feeding Darrell would take my niece home and when he returned we would eat our supper. I would then do the cleaning up and head back to the hospital for the last feeding. This was my favourite time with Rheann because there was no rush to be home and I could stay and just hold her until I was satisfied she was ok.
In between my visits I would pump my milk and in the evening stay up as late as possible, usually about midnight, to pump again at the end of the day, arising early the next morning to repeat the process. I brought the frozen milk to the hospital for the nurses to feed her when I could not be there. She did not have the strength to take more than 15ml of milk at a time, nor was she strong enough to suckle. This the only solution as I did not want to lose my milk, especially because of her illness, and I prayed she would not reject me when she was at last able to breastfeed, a real possibility I had to face after she her having so much time on the bottle. I knew it was important for Rheann to have breast milk and I wanted to be able to continue to breastfeed once she was able.

During the entire three week period Darrell only came to the hospital with me on one Sunday afternoon. We brought the boys as well as Helen who insisted on coming that day. But she made me crazy because from the moment we got there she wanted to leave again. It was my nephew’s birthday and she felt we were spending too much time at the hospital, we should be getting back to the party. To me this was unbelievable, something I could not comprehend. The visit was very stressful, so from then on I went to the hospital on my own. But Darrell never went to see her again, nor did he express interest in doing so. I have always found that strange. I could not help but wonder if he even cared.
In my mind I could not understand what this family was thinking. That they could believe I would give up my time with my daughter to be at a dinner party or a lunch party or just having a visit escaped me. I knew they were cold, but I believed they would at least understand my need to be with my daughter during this crucial time. How could they not understand the importance of having a babysitter for my boys? To this day I have not been able to understand their way of thinking, Rheann and I seemed to have no importance in their lives. Now I see this was precisely the truth. And people say family is the most important thing…
Because of the many emotions and the depth I felt them during this time I have included the original diary pages describing what was happening as it occurred, [see Appendix Diary Pages, ref. ??]. Although I could not forget the events of that year I was surprised when I read through the pages and realized how many details I had forgotten, reminding me although time does a great deal to dilute the emotions of a difficulty, it does not heal the wounds as we would like to think. It is painful for me to think about that year, never stopping to cry, the wounds inflicted still sore. During that time much was done to harm my spirit. I am of the belief it was intentional by those I now refer to as my handlers.
*See Appendix xyyx: Original Journal Entry 1984-5.

Author’s Note; For the purpose of the book being in this format and because of the length of the diary entry stated above I have chosen not to include those pages in this format.

Rheann in the incubator looking so peaceful.