Chapter 2: Strength
Three days was what it took before Helen finally moved from the ICU to the cardiac ward. While she was technically bedridden for the next week or so, Rebel made sure that she will be taken to meet Dolores.
Helen felt her heart racing as Rebel pushed her wheelchair to the NICU. An agitated current crept under her skin and unnerved her. The idea of meeting her granddaughter for the very first time excited and saddened her simultaneously. Despite the grief that the Hydrops Fetalis diagnosis caused, Dolores had been wanted and loved throughout Maddie's pregnancy. Helen was not sure if, by seeing her granddaughter today, she might also be saying goodbye to her.
Rebel halted the wheelchair in front of the entrance to the NICU. Maddie was waiting for them there.
"Honey," Helen said softly and reached for her daughter's hand.
Maddie was released from the hospital the day before. She stayed the night with her mother while spending the day with her daughter. Helen wished there was something she could do to alleviate her daughter's pain. It hurt her that she couldn't.
"You look good, mom," Maddie said.
Helen chuckled. She was sure that her skin and eyes were still yellow from jaundice that preceded her valve replacement surgery.
"How is Dolores doing?" she asked her daughter.
"They removed some fluid from her lungs and put her on oxygen last night, but her kidneys are failing. The doctor said that she could start dialysis, but I'm not sure I want that for her. It's not fair to prolong her suffering," Maddie said.
Helen's eyes scanned her daughter from top to bottom. She could tell that Maddie was exhausted. It was understandable, and Helen felt terrible that she couldn't be there for her the way Maddie deserved. The only thing she could do was open her arms and wait for her daughter to lean into her embrace.
"Is there really nothing that they can do for her heart?" Rebel asked.
Helen shook her head. They explored all the possible options when Maddie found out about the baby's condition. The chance that Dolores would survive was slim, and it was more likely that any treatment would cause Dolores great suffering before she would meet her untimely death. Helen knew that her daughter was not interested in forcing Dolores to live a short and painful life to satisfy her own need to be a mother. Helen thought that by making this decision, Maddie had become a mother even before Dolores was born. It didn't mean that losing Dolores would hurt any less.
"Are you ready to meet her, mom?" Maddie asked.
Helen nodded and let Maddie helped her put on the sterile gown.
Maddie wheeled her into the NICU and towards the back of the room. She stopped in front of a large incubator.
"Dolores, meet your grandma Helen," Maddie said.
The wheelchair was not high enough for Helen to see anything. "Can you help me stand?"
"Are you sure you're supposed to?" Maddie asked.
"We'll be careful," Helen said and winked at her daughter.
Maddie wrapped her arms around her mother and helped her pull herself out of the chair.
Now that she was the same height as the incubator, Helen peered into it. In the photos she'd seen of her granddaughter, Dolores looked small. Helen did not expect to see the baby so swollen. She bit her bottom lip to avoid crying.
"It's because of the fluid buildup. They couldn't drain all of it," Maddie explained and wrapped her arm around her mother's back.
"She's beautiful," Helen said softly.
"You can touch her if you want," Maddie said and opened a round window on the side of the incubator.
Helen put her hand through the window and rubbed the tip of her forefinger against Dolores' little hand. "Hi, Dolores. It's grandma," she said.
"And mom," Maddie added.
"Yeah, we're both here," Helen said.
Dolores opened her eyes and looked at Maddie as her little fingers curled around Helen's finger.
"We love you so much."
Two weeks, five days, and three hours.
Dolores was not expected to live that long, but she was a fighter just like her mother and grandmother. Even with minimal intervention, Dolores held on.
By that time, Helen was finally allowed out of bed. She was walking around unassisted. She was feeling better, and her autoimmune symptoms were leaving her body. She was alive again. And despite what the doctors said, Dolores was still alive as well.
Every morning when Helen woke up and learned that her granddaughter made it through another night, her heart filled with hope.
When she went into the NICU after her morning physiotherapy and occupational therapy sessions, Helen's heart felt light. She spotted Maddie sitting in a rocking chair and holding Dolores, and her heart filled with joy.
"They let you hold her?" she asked, her voice cheerful. If Maddie was allowed to take Dolores out of the incubator, it must have been a sign of improvement.
Maddie turned to look at her mother, and Helen stopped in her tracks. Her daughter was crying.
"Honey, what –" She didn't need to complete the question. The moment she saw Dolores, she knew that her granddaughter was losing her fight.
"They said she has an hour, maybe two." Maddie's voice shook.
Helen pulled another chair and sat next to her daughter.
"I thought that she would make it," Maddie sobbed.
Helen's eyes filled with tears. She thought that Dolores would make it too. But now Dolores was even more swollen than before, and her breathing was labored. The end was approaching, but Helen could not let herself fall apart. For months, Maddie has taken care of her, fed her, bathed her, drove her around, cleaned her house. Now, Helen needed to take care of her daughter and be strong for her.
Two weeks, five days, four hours, and twenty-six minutes after she was born, Dolores Peterson took her last breath.