| (c) 2007 Stefanie Worth |
“That boy’s going to be a pistol!”
Mom’s response to my unborn son’s refusal to remain head down summed up our shared personality
prediction. Estimated at over nine pounds and still breech at 38 weeks, his fetal stubbornness was just
a preview of the challenging personality he'd bring to the world. Born a few weeks later at a very healthy
9 lbs. 15 oz after day-long labor and (finally!) a C-section, Pistol Punkin a/k/a Ethan* and I eventually
made it back home where life settled into its new normal.
We enjoyed our daytime aloneness, growing and bonding in our own special way. On one of these “all-
is-now-right-with-the-world” afternoons, my boyfriend dropped by for lunch – nothing elaborate, just a
Big Mac and fries with Young & the Restless humming in the background. I glanced out the window
behind us to see that the mailman had just arrived. But instead of the sound of mail sliding through the
chute, he rang the bell.
“It’s another present,” I thought.
What the mailman brought that day was a certified letter from the Sickle Cell Disease Association of
America--Michigan Chapter. I assumed the communication was a formality, informing me that my
newborn carried the Sickle Cell trait like me and his older brother. Cold words from the form letter
informed us that our baby’s newborn testing had revealed “a sickle cell condition,” there was a doctor at
Children’s Hospital of Michigan prepared to care for our now ten-pound baby, and counselors were on
hand if we should “need additional information.”
The mailman brought our whole world down around us.
Our story continues
*Name changed for his privacy
Mom’s response to my unborn son’s refusal to remain head down summed up our shared personality
prediction. Estimated at over nine pounds and still breech at 38 weeks, his fetal stubbornness was just
a preview of the challenging personality he'd bring to the world. Born a few weeks later at a very healthy
9 lbs. 15 oz after day-long labor and (finally!) a C-section, Pistol Punkin a/k/a Ethan* and I eventually
made it back home where life settled into its new normal.
We enjoyed our daytime aloneness, growing and bonding in our own special way. On one of these “all-
is-now-right-with-the-world” afternoons, my boyfriend dropped by for lunch – nothing elaborate, just a
Big Mac and fries with Young & the Restless humming in the background. I glanced out the window
behind us to see that the mailman had just arrived. But instead of the sound of mail sliding through the
chute, he rang the bell.
“It’s another present,” I thought.
What the mailman brought that day was a certified letter from the Sickle Cell Disease Association of
America--Michigan Chapter. I assumed the communication was a formality, informing me that my
newborn carried the Sickle Cell trait like me and his older brother. Cold words from the form letter
informed us that our baby’s newborn testing had revealed “a sickle cell condition,” there was a doctor at
Children’s Hospital of Michigan prepared to care for our now ten-pound baby, and counselors were on
hand if we should “need additional information.”
The mailman brought our whole world down around us.
Our story continues
*Name changed for his privacy
The Baby God Gave Me
A Journey Through Sickle Cell Disease
A Journey Through Sickle Cell Disease
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
