One year ago today we were reunited in Landstuhl, Germany with my daughter waiting for the inevitable to occur. Citlali, her mother Norma, Jesus, her husband, and I were physically there. Family and friends were all there in spirit, praying for a miracle.
We had traveled for three hours from Grafenwhoer across the beautiful spring of Germany, but the anxiety made it hard to enjoy our surroundings. Citla was about to deliver her daughter full term, and she was told since the sixth month that the baby was not to survive. In the last trimester she did not grow, and her heart was not fully formed. We were told by the cardiologist, on the day she went into the delivery room, that "the girl is not compatible with life." I still shiver as these same words resound in my memory. She was told that she would not make it past one week, and most likely past some few hours.
Fast forward to the birth. Citla was joking around trying to make the moment light, and to her surprise she delivered the baby while she was laughing. It was a great paradox, and, even without us knowing, a prelude of things to come. She received the baby immediately after the birth. A beautiful baby that weighted at 1.5 pounds, tiny for a full term baby. That night there was a continuous struggle, and it was hard for us to see the events develop. Doctors came in in doves to see the girl with the rare condition. The cardiologist repeated that she indeed was "not compatible" and to expect the worst. Nurses rushed in and comforted my daughter. A lovely woman came at 1:00 am to take pictures of her. The tiny girl event lost some weight after the birth and came as low as 1.2 pounds. She would fit on my hand. It was a wait for the terrible end.
Except, nobody had asked the tiny girl what her opinion was.
Yes, she stopped breathing a number of times during that first night. She could not even cry, but I do not know if she was not crying because she was not able, or because she was concentrated on putting all her efforts on living. She would start breathing again after a short time.
We struggled to find diapers. We struggled to find onesies. We struggled to find any other clothes to the point that we shopped toys-r-us for doll clothes, which are not anatomically correct. Seeing the tears of my daughter in the toy store, disconsolate for not finding clothes for her daughter broke my heart. I called my wife Roxanne and she rushed some preemie clothes to us. These were big for her as well. Between her mother sewing some new clothes, and us finding micro-preemie clothes, my daughter eventually started to make do.
Audrey? She barely eat, sometimes drinking only sugar water with a dropper. But on one of her exams the cardiologist announced that her heart valves had closed properly, by themselves. There was still a need to fix some of her heart at a later time, but the prognosis was getting better.
Fast forward, this time to her first birthday celebration.
She has not reached 10 pounds and has not grown for 4 months. She still uses size 0-3 months clothes. Her birthday costume was hand made by Citla. But here she is. Living is, apparently, a big deal.
Our children go to war to give their life for their country. And they do die. In such a number that it is almost impossible to recognize the magnitude of each loss. And our leaders send airplanes and troops to kill "our enemies" with disregard for what they might be as sons and fathers. Even I felt at some times that my hard life was way too much work and wondered the real value of being alive.
This one pound of pure life thought us all the value of being alive. I now put my efforts on growing old, and to enjoy every second of every breath I take. If a one pound girl can do it, so can I.
So today, I declare this as the yearly "Day of Hope", instead of what other people call it: "Audrey's birthday."
Happy Day of Hope tiny girl!
May your body grow to the size of your spirit.
Jaime Garza
Apr 20, 2012
We had traveled for three hours from Grafenwhoer across the beautiful spring of Germany, but the anxiety made it hard to enjoy our surroundings. Citla was about to deliver her daughter full term, and she was told since the sixth month that the baby was not to survive. In the last trimester she did not grow, and her heart was not fully formed. We were told by the cardiologist, on the day she went into the delivery room, that "the girl is not compatible with life." I still shiver as these same words resound in my memory. She was told that she would not make it past one week, and most likely past some few hours.
Fast forward to the birth. Citla was joking around trying to make the moment light, and to her surprise she delivered the baby while she was laughing. It was a great paradox, and, even without us knowing, a prelude of things to come. She received the baby immediately after the birth. A beautiful baby that weighted at 1.5 pounds, tiny for a full term baby. That night there was a continuous struggle, and it was hard for us to see the events develop. Doctors came in in doves to see the girl with the rare condition. The cardiologist repeated that she indeed was "not compatible" and to expect the worst. Nurses rushed in and comforted my daughter. A lovely woman came at 1:00 am to take pictures of her. The tiny girl event lost some weight after the birth and came as low as 1.2 pounds. She would fit on my hand. It was a wait for the terrible end.
Except, nobody had asked the tiny girl what her opinion was.
Yes, she stopped breathing a number of times during that first night. She could not even cry, but I do not know if she was not crying because she was not able, or because she was concentrated on putting all her efforts on living. She would start breathing again after a short time.
We struggled to find diapers. We struggled to find onesies. We struggled to find any other clothes to the point that we shopped toys-r-us for doll clothes, which are not anatomically correct. Seeing the tears of my daughter in the toy store, disconsolate for not finding clothes for her daughter broke my heart. I called my wife Roxanne and she rushed some preemie clothes to us. These were big for her as well. Between her mother sewing some new clothes, and us finding micro-preemie clothes, my daughter eventually started to make do.
Audrey? She barely eat, sometimes drinking only sugar water with a dropper. But on one of her exams the cardiologist announced that her heart valves had closed properly, by themselves. There was still a need to fix some of her heart at a later time, but the prognosis was getting better.
Fast forward, this time to her first birthday celebration.
She has not reached 10 pounds and has not grown for 4 months. She still uses size 0-3 months clothes. Her birthday costume was hand made by Citla. But here she is. Living is, apparently, a big deal.
Our children go to war to give their life for their country. And they do die. In such a number that it is almost impossible to recognize the magnitude of each loss. And our leaders send airplanes and troops to kill "our enemies" with disregard for what they might be as sons and fathers. Even I felt at some times that my hard life was way too much work and wondered the real value of being alive.
This one pound of pure life thought us all the value of being alive. I now put my efforts on growing old, and to enjoy every second of every breath I take. If a one pound girl can do it, so can I.
So today, I declare this as the yearly "Day of Hope", instead of what other people call it: "Audrey's birthday."
Happy Day of Hope tiny girl!
May your body grow to the size of your spirit.
Jaime Garza
Apr 20, 2012
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