It has been forty-one years since I first met my eldest son, Jonathan Devin Siemko, in person, up close and personal, and I wanted to take a moment to review how he has changed my life and the lives of those around him. If you know me already, then what I’m about to say will probably bore you, so turn the page or fast forward to today. Still, I was considered a high-risk pregnancy. I didn’t quite know the extent of it until they tested my sugar levels by force-feeding me glucose at the laboratory and checking levels, the reason being that I was huge for my due date, and my specialist wanted to be safe. So later that night, this first time, Mom was waddling downtown at the annual Oakville Midnight Madness, feeling more and more tired, not knowing she was in the early stages of premature labour, at 33 weeks of gestation, my baby was going to come whether I wanted it or not!
I woke up after a restless sleep and panicked as my waters had broken; I called the doctor’s office and was told to head down to the hospital as soon as possible. Well, it took a few hours to pack my bag, have my hubby shave my legs as I was going to meet my son, go to Tim Hortons on the way for coffee and a muffin, and stroll into the emergency at 6:30 am. I received a harsh scolding from the nurse and was shown to my room for the day, along with my briefcase with work that HAD to be submitted by the following Monday; after all, I didn’t plan on early arrivals for anything. The day progressed slowly, and I called all of my available family. My Mom had already passed away the previous February 1983. My Dad was the first on my list, and he drove like a madman to bring me roses, which the nurses wouldn’t allow in. Still, he was very welcomed as my hubby was coming and going in and out of my room for a myriad of things; he was helping the local federal government ministers campaign for re-election (knocking on doors, that kind of thing), changing clothes and several exits for food was a priority if I recollect. Since I was so early, they wouldn’t give me any pain meds or lumbar spine meds, so I had to rely on my breathing techniques learned in the shortened Lamaze classes and oxygen, which I was sucking back on until then, the tank was empty.
After 9 hours of letting my body work on birthing, I was getting ready to push my little boy out. Still, everyone had to get changed before going into the delivery room, and there I was alone, praying to God and all my Angels in Heaven that my son be healthy. Well, he was in distress, and the doctor wanted him out fast, so you can guess how that happened, with the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around his little neck three times. I was told to STOP PUSHING, a feat only the Gods and possibly Olympians can do but not me, so my son breathed in amniotic fluid and whisked away from me at precisely 4:49 pm, to which I was given two sedatives and nothing to hold, not to worry they said, he will be “drying out” under the hot lights. He should be good as new, but my hubby, a 6 lb 3 oz baby, was not okay, and my cousin Susie Pearce, who was an ambulance supervisor at the time, took him directly to Sick Children’s Hospital
for observation and life-saving nursing in the NICU, but I wasn’t allowed to go! I was forced to stay at the hospital until my migraine and body could travel, but I was encouraged to express the essential first mother milk for all of the excellent healing properties that it contained; at least it gave me something to do instead of crying while watching others with their newborns. After seeing him in the isolate naked with his head shaved for I.V. purposes, my heart swelled, and I started to cry and leak from every possible orifice.
Still, the NICU doctors wouldn’t let me near my beautiful baby Jonathan Devin Siemko until
I calmed down, and my anxieties over my Mother’s milk were just one more thing wrong with me. I truly felt that I had let my little, tiny, premature baby down by walking too much when, in fact, it was the doctors who let us down by not diagnosing me with gestational diabetes, and testing me so late in my pregnancy was a bad thing that they did not me. As a result, my beautiful boy has Cerebral Palsy, Epilepsy and Dyslexia. I have tried to teach him all the good in life and that all the adverse effects are not his fault.
Despite Jonathan’s rocky start, he was given one-on-one assistance, first from me and then at school. It has been an uphill battle all of the way; even when he was wearing a leg brace and helmet for protection and heavily medicated, he never gave up on his interests in History, Baseball and playing sports with friends. This young man was bright enough and worked hard enough to maintain an above-average grade all of the way through school and was accepted into the University of Guelph for majoring in Political Science and History, which he accomplished after seven years full time, 24-7, living in residence and taking care of himself until graduation in 2010.
I have been so busy living life and being a caregiver to him and all three of his grandparents that I missed out on recording this old soul sooner on my blog. Still, he has been critical in my life as a young man, through our combined interests in baseball, history and politics, into a very supportive son. At the same time, I have been ill during the past few years especially. Jonathan and I are Christmas nuts, and since I wasn’t able to shop this past year, he took it upon himself to be Santa while I was being admitted to the hospital and home; he knew how to access Amazon and ordered us all presents for under the mantle, as we didn’t even have a tree. We have become more health conscious during the past year, meaning more exercise, including walking together at least five times weekly for an hour while we hold each other up and talk about our lives. So very kind, gentle, loving, and computer literate is this son of mine that I wanted to share with the world and let you comprehend that he has a deep understanding of life and should expand his horizons. During the past few weeks, Jonathan spent an entire weekend in Toronto at his brother’s new home in North York; they enjoyed the same closeness as they did when they were young and went out to the ROM for breakfast and dinner. I didn’t hear back from him until it was time to return, and we hugged like it had been months. Addison Pearce Siemko is his younger brother, and I will be bringing you up to date about everything shortly; that is another new story worthy of my time and will be documented.
Until I write again, I remain,
Mom,
Justagail