Holding Gemma

by Marjorie Doe

Gemma was a very difficult infant. She was inconsolable most of the time. She cried, shrieked, yelled, and arched her back with anger for many months. She hated to be touched, hated being kissed, hated nursing, hated being next to me in sleep, and pretty much hated life. She was one bitch of a baby much of the time.

It was apparent right off that she had problems. She had feeding problems and never learned to latch on to the breast, so I pumped for her for an amazingly long time. She had silent reflux that she never outgrew coupled with stomach empty problems, so she was on an assortment of medications prescribed by her pediatric gastroenterologist. In addition, she was diagnosed with spastic quadraplegia (CP) at four months of age, and it was unsure if she would ever walk. She was also microcephalic, and had a brain bleed right after birth. Nobody knew what the consequences of all these problems would be later on.

At four months of age, she started very intensive early intervention, and our family was blessed with Mindy, the world's greatest physical therapist. She "got" Gemma right away, both as a strong personality, and as a kid who just did not want to do what she didn't want to do, a facet of her personality she still has. Mindy was the first person that Gemma allowed to touch her, but it wasn't without a fight. Gemma had sensory integration problems and she really shrank from any form of touch, especially on her bare skin. But Mindy taught me to brush Gemma with a soft paintbrush, and then we graduated to a baby hairbrush, and eventually Gemma became used to her skin being touched.

Gemma still hated to be held, however, and spent much of her time either in the beloved swing, or in her car seat or bouncy seat. Picking her up and placing her someplace else aroused her ire and she would scream bloody murder. Even so, Mindy kept encouraging me to try and carry her, which was similar to trying to carry a feral cat.

One night, when Gemma was about seven months old, I picked her up out of her swing, and she didn't cry. She snuggled her head into my neck and relaxed. It was miraculous. I was afraid to move for fear that she would freak out, but she was calm for more than a minute or two, so I decided to cast fate to the wind and sat down with her in the rocking chair. We rocked back and forth, and I sang to her and she just melted into my chest and fell asleep.

It was the first time that my baby let me hold her, and it was probably the most memorable night of my life.