Welcome to Fatherhood – The Allison Chronicles – Part 1

Because someone, somewhere, needs to hear this…

I’m rewriting this introduction after I finished writing this post. This event happened 35 years ago, and I’m telling the complete story for the first time now. And the reason is, it is exceedingly painful to relive the worst day of your life and its aftermath. It is distressing to re-experience those emotions. What you are about to read is a narrative of my trip through hell. The keyword, though, in all of this, is “through”.

I never wanted to tell this story before, and honestly, I don’t want to do it now. But I have been instructed to, or more like, commanded to. (some of you will understand that last statement) And after writing this first post, I now realize that I do my best writing when I am in great pain. I surmise that maybe this is why many of the great writers were drug addicts or alcoholics.  

This is an extremely personal story. I will reveal details that are uncomfortable to discuss. It will be almost totally transparent. The story is entirely accurate to the best of my recollection. This is important because there is one key moment that will be difficult for you to believe without a great deal of faith. Revealing this part of the story is so troublesome to me that I had to ask my friend Reverend John, the first person outside my family to ever to hear it, if I should include it. He said, “You have to. Because it is a story of hope, and somebody needs to hear it.”

Therefore, I am writing this because I have been instructed to do so, and somebody needs to hear it. I am not doing so to elicit any form of pity. I don’t want you to sympathize. This is about you, not me. The worst emotion you can express to me is pity. Yes, expressing pity towards me is actually worse than disagreeing with me. It’s a personality defect buried deep in my DNA, and probably another reason this story has never been shared before now.

Life is such a complicated existence. You control much of it through the decisions you make. And then there are those random, life-altering events which can impact us more than all the seemingly important choices we can

ever make. And sometimes there is a bitter irony to these circumstances, the type of randomness which would have one of the best days of my entire life, followed by my absolutely worst day ever.

Welcome To Fatherhood

On Saturday morning, my first child was born. We named her Allison. I was in the delivery room but didn’t actually observe much since any mention of blood, or even medical conditions make me extremely queasy. It was an uncomplicated, easy birth with no problems. After spending time with my wife and daughter, I headed home, totally immersed in the euphoria of new fatherhood.

The first indication of trouble was when my wife called that evening to inform me that Allison had been transferred to Akron Children’s Hospital. But this didn’t alarm me at all. During our child-birthing classes, they had told us that babies get transferred to there all the time for minor, routine ailments and not to worry if that happened.

So, I was not concerned. However, I was upset that they did this. It would delay us from bringing Allison home and interfere with my schedule. This is an example of how selfish of a young man I was. This tendency may have eventually destroyed my life. But my perspective on many things, even life itself, was about to change drastically. I just didn’t know it yet.

The next morning, I went to church and received the joyous congratulations of all my friends, still basking in the exhilaration of being a new father. I headed back to the hospital to see my wife right after lunch.

I did think it was odd that my wife was not in her room, but I was still clueless about the severity of the situation. I sat down and waited, watching the Browns game on a 5” hospital television. However, I began to feel uneasy as the minutes passed.

Eventually, a nurse appeared. She seemed surprised to see me. With a blank expression, she said, “Mr. Ake?” (I nod) “Please follow me.”

Before I could ask a question, she spins out of the room, and I have to hurry to catch up. It was about this time that the feeling of impending doom arrived. It would be an extended stay.

She led me to a “family waiting room”, where my wife and her parents were sitting. They are distraught. They uttered greetings and returned to staring at the floor. I knew that my daughter wasn’t dead because no one was crying, but things had to be bad, really, really bad.

When I asked what was wrong, my wife holds up her hand and tells me to wait for the doctor. The answer to the question being too painful for her to even say.

The doctor soon appears and informs me with a straight poker face and no emotion in his voice that my daughter suffered a severe cerebral hemorrhage at birth. He then delivers the following prognosis:

1.    Your daughter probably won’t survive today.

2.    If she survives today, she probably won’t survive tomorrow.

3.    If she survives tomorrow, there is a critical time in two weeks that she will have to get through.

4.    If she makes it through that, she will live with severe brain damage.

There was not much hope in that statement.

Welcome to fatherhood. I hope you enjoy it, because it isn’t going to last very long.

End of Part 1

Next time: Part 2 - The Valley of the Shadow of Death