Sharon M. Holmes
Mother of two
T-7 Complete
Transverse Myelitis
Astoria, NY

The day I found out I was pregnant I forgot about everything else and giggled my butt off.  It had only been seventeen months since I was diagnosed with acute TM.  TM left me very much myself; just shorter.  After the initial shock began to wear off, I began to worry about how my health could affect the baby.  Then, of course, I worried about myself.  Had I taken on too much in my newly seated position? 

I was monitored very closely.  I was also stuck in the hospital for a month and a half on the labor and delivery floor battling one bulldog of a UTI.  The doctor was concerned that if the infection became too severe, it could cause premature labor. 

The rest of my pregnancy went off without a hitch except for one thing.  Sadly, those little flutters and resounding karate kicks of pregnancy were eerily absent.  I slept with my hands on my stomach every night.  Only then did I feel my son move.  I did receive some very interesting stares from people who watched me nonchalantly roll through the hospital corridors quite obviously pregnant.  Only very few would ask me what had happened to me and I would simply respond, “Nothing; I’m just here to see the obstetrician.”  And with a polite nod, I’d go on my merry way. 

On February 17th I had my regularly scheduled prenatal appointment.  I was going to cancel, but at the last minute chose not to.  Good thing, because it only took minutes for the doctor to deduce that I was in active labor!  Go figure, without even so much as a twinge; I was already half way to giving birth!  At five centimeters, I was whisked once again to labor and delivery.  While the echoes of laboring women filled the halls, I sat peacefully watching the machines, waiting for them to tell me I was having a contraction. This was very not like the, lets call it, “discomfort of giving birth” to my now twelve year old daughter, Kristin.  That evening at 11:42 and with the help of forceps, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy we named Michael. 

Presently, with my now teenage daughter and my twenty month old son, I have no time to worry about myself.  That, in itself, has been my saving grace.  I’ve learned that my disability presents certain special problems, but none of which could ever hinder my love for my children or their love for me.  To my daughter, I’m still mom; I’m just shorter.  To my son, well, I’m just mom.  Yeah, it is hard not being able to pick up my son with my level of injury, but once I have my children in my arms, everything else is less important.  And all my little man’s gotta say is vroom vroom and this chair becomes a racecar that chauffeurs him from room to room.