Lisa's Story

In 1980, I was 28 years old. Bruce Springsteen released The River, people were lining up in theatres to see The Empire Strikes Back, John Lennon was shot, and my son Chris was born.

How happy I had been that my baby was conceived in my parents' homeland of Greece. At that time, I was posted in Athens and worked at the Canadian Embassy as a Foreign Service Secretary. My husband, Jon, accompanied me.

I wanted a baby so much - I had so much love that I wanted to give my unborn child. Secretly I had hoped for a boy. I fantasized over and over again the way I would feel when I would hold my baby for the first time in my arms and breastfeed him. The months passed quickly and in March of 1980 the Canadian government sent me home to Ottawa to give birth - my baby was due at the beginning of June.

It was in Ottawa that I was told my pregnancy could be a complicated one. My legs had swollen so much I could hardly move. My face was unrecognizable. My doctor told me that this could lead to toxemia (affecting both my child and me) and so I was monitored carefully. This was also when I first learned that I was going to have a son.

Even though we were staying with my mother at the time, Jon and I felt it imperative to settle into our own home quickly so that we could furnish a nursery for our unborn child as soon as possible. After tirelessly searching homes with a realtor, we found our "dream" house and started to furnish it.

How hot it was on the morning of May 2nd as my mother drove me to my doctor for my routine examination. It felt like the middle of July and with my bloated body, the sweat poured off of me in buckets. After examining me, my doctor told me that he was admitting me to the hospital right away because my blood pressure was out of control due to the toxemia (pre-eclampsia). What a shock I had - I never expected news like that!

I phoned Jon at work to let him know. Not truly understanding the severity of my condition, my mother and I decided to go to a local mall to shop for a new nightgown for my hospital stay. When we finally arrived at the Ottawa Civic Hospital, I was rushed into a private room where they monitored my blood pressure carefully. All of a sudden a group of doctors came into my room and surrounded me. I felt overwhelmed. They told me then that it was necessary that I have a caesarean section immediately. If they were to delay it, both my son and I were in danger of losing our lives. I started to cry - I was so scared. There was no time to waste and Jon could not be contacted as he was in transit from work to home. Thank goodness my mother was with me.

They rushed me into the operating room and put me to sleep under general anesthesia. I woke up in the recovery room alone. I was so scared for my baby son. "M-m-my baby .. is he alright?," I managed to stutter in my drug induced state. The nurse assured me he was fine and I drifted back to sleep.

They kept me in isolation in the intensive care unit. It was dark because they kept the blinds closed so that I would not become overly excited. My baby son was in an incubator in the "preemie nursery" as he was born one month premature. I could not reach him. I could not see him.

The hours changed to days and they still would not let me see my baby. They could not move him out of his incubator and they could not move me out of intensive care. During this time I begged Jon continuously to please take a Polaroid picture of my baby so I could at least see what he looked like. In the meantime, Jon was bonding with my son every day. Each day Jon told me he forgot to bring the camera.

I had no one else to ask. No one else would listen to me. No one could possibly have understood the suffering. How I cried. How I wanted my baby. My baby was kept from me. Not one person helped me during that time. I was so alone.

The days gradually grew into a week. It was then that the doctor decided I was strong enough to be moved with a wheelchair into the "preemie nursery" to see my son for the very first time. I was shocked because, at 8 lbs. 7 oz., he was the largest baby in the intensive care nursery and I remember thinking he looked so out of place. As tears rolled uncontrollably down my cheeks they placed my son in my arms for the first time. I was finally holding my beautiful baby boy - nothing else mattered in the whole wide world.

That was when I discovered another horrible injustice had transpired. After untiringly trying to breastfeed him, with the assistance of nurses, I was finally told that my breast milk had dried up. I would never be able to breastfeed my baby. I was devastated.

It is 22 years later now and I still have not recovered from the heartbreak of that experience. I truly believe that the lack of bonding between Chris and I during that critical first week of his life caused irreversible damage to our relationship.

I am now divorced for almost eight years and I am sad to say that my son and I are estranged. Chris has not contacted me in six years and refuses to have anything to do me. Of course, there are many intricate reasons for this but I am certain the toxemic pregnancy led the way to the suffering I endure today without the love of my boy.

Thank you for reading my story - it is comforting for me to know you have listened to my words.

Peace and love,

Lisa