“My life is a fairy tale,” I thought, as I stepped out of the long black limousine at the entrance to the Pasadena Civic Center where the 1988 Emmy Awards were about to begin. My husband, David, had been nominated as a writer/producer of a CBS television show called “Beauty and the Beast.” The door of the limousine flew open to cheering crowds, arriving celebrities, flashing cameras, and the warm California sunshine. David held my hand as we walked up the steps to the auditorium. I touched my swollen stomach to feel a slight twinge underneath the exotic black Laise Adzer dress. It had taken weeks to find just the right dress to accommodate my awkward stage of pregnancy. At four months I couldn't fit into anything in my closet, yet I was still too small for maternity clothes. I loved being pregnant. I felt so beautiful, so full with this new life growing inside me.

The year had been magical. I had wanted another child more than anything else in the world. David had finally started to believe in his own success as a writer/producer. His fears about supporting three children had dissipated with the success of “Beauty and the Beast.” Our two sons, ten-year-old Garrett and six-year-old Trevor, were in complete agreement about adding to our family as long as they didn't have to share their rooms with a baby! We were now well on our way to becoming a family of five.

The usher led us down the honored aisle to our seats.  Linda Hamilton, the star of“Beauty and the Beast,” slid into the seat beside me. We had met at the studio and I liked her very much. I was happy that the Television Academy had arranged the seating so that I would be sitting next to her and her husband. As the opening music swelled, Linda leaned over discreetly and whispered that she and her husband were trying to start their own family.  As David and I sat through the three hour awards show, I could not help dwelling upon the amniocentesis scheduled for the next morning. This test would allow me to relax, to have confidence that my baby was healthy. My mind continued to wander until the presenters announced, “Best Dramatic Series.”  David and I clasped hands tightly. He hadn’t practiced an acceptance speech as far as I knew.

“Thirtysomething”...

As the producers and cast of “Thirtysomething” ran up on stage, we tried hard not to show our disappointment. Maybe next year...

Excerpt from  Chapter Three

.......My water had broken, but my labor contractions never came! I called the doctor and he urged me to go to the hospital. We arranged for our sons, Garrett and Trevor, to be taken to school. I looked at their faces, so eager to be a part of it all. They wanted to come with us. I told them it would be hours before their sister would be born. I promised they’d come to the hospital to meet her as soon as she arrived.

The doctor finally induced labor through a pitosindrip at 5:00 p.m. that evening. Labor was intense within an hour. I was soproud of myself, breathing through the contractions, counting, focusing. After two previous natural births, I felt as though I had finally mastered the art of natural childbirth. David was encouraging and calm. He has always been there for me. We had been married almost fifteen years, and we had a marriage of love, trust, friendship, and support.

With each contraction I visualized the tiny infant girl I longed to hold in my arms. I looked forward to nursing her. Nursing had been such a joyful experience with both of my boys. I longed to feel that first nuzzle at my breast. Those thoughts kept me going through the intense pain my whole body endured.

At 9:15 that evening I suddenly sat up and realized Ihad to push! David became very excited, “This is it, honey! We've done this before! We'll be holding her very soon!” He called for the doctor, grabbed the video camera and the room suddenly became very animated and alive. The two labor nurses were cheering me on. “Push! Push!” The doctor was at the foot of the bed commandeering the whole event. David was off to the side with both the video and the still camera, saying “You're doing great, honey, ... come on, you can do it!”

Push! ... and I cried out in that primal scream so familiar to birthing mothers everywhere. I felt her head come through. It felt so good, like a little pop! Abruptly, the cheering stopped. She wasn’t out yet! I looked over at David, and I saw his head in his hands. The nursed began to stroke my arms and quietly urged me to push again. Was she alive? I was so frightened. Something was wrong. I looked at the doctor’s face, he wouldn’t look at me. I looked to David, my rock. The video camera had dropped, he was no longer recording. The urge to push again was so strong, I let out another guttural scream as I felt my baby’s body separate from me. Julianne Belle Peckinpah was born at 9:24 p.m.

It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room.  Then suddenly the cry of my tiny baby pierced the silence. She’s alive! Julianne’s cry was hollow and muffled, a cry that didn't sound right. Panicked, I tried to catch my breath. I swallowed hard, my throat was dry, but I managed to speak.  “Is she healthy?” The doctor handed Julianne to the waiting nurse.  The doctor's tall form stood with his back to me.  From somewhere beyond him, I heard his voice:  “There's aproblem with her mouth ... It's sort of a cleft ... an ... external cleft ...it can be fixed ... she’ll need surgery.” Silently, the nurses weighed andmeasured Julianne. I watched in disturbed silence as they passed her back and forth among them, performing the myriad routine tests that follow birth. I wanted to scream but could not find my voice. I needed to see her. What was taking them so long? Why was David standing so far away? I wanted to hold my baby, to look at the face that had surprised them all.

The nurse finally handed Julianne, snugly bound in a receiving blanket, to David. He cradled her in his arms looked at her, and his face suddenlytransformed. He said, softly gazing at her, “She's beautiful. Don’t worry,Julianne, I’ll always take care of you.” His peaceful smile entered my heart and I knew I wouldn’t be afraid when I saw her.

David carefully placed her at my breast. I was so deeply sad when I held her next to my heart. Her eyes were puffy from nine months of gentle swimming in my womb. Her head was perfectly shaped even though she had just gone through the birth canal. I didn’t look too long at her misshapen face. I could only hold her close and stroke her head as I held back tears I so desperately wanted to release, but couldn’t.

The doctor left the room to summon my pediatrician.  Julianne's strange little cry filled the room.  “She's hungry,” I quietly commented. I had always nursed my babies immediately after birth. The nurses asked me not to feed her because they didn’t know the extent of the birth defect.  I didn’t have enough emotional energy to defy their judgment.

“She's still our baby girl,” David said sitting close to me, stroking my arm. His touch felt safe.

He seemed so strong. I looked at his face and loved him more than ever. I thought about his face smiling down at our daughter, saying “I’ll always take care of you, Julianne.”  I held our daughter tightly, and whispered in her ear that I loved her. She quieted to the sound of my voice. She was mine. 

End of Excerpt....The journey to complete my daughter's face is in the complete book available at the shopping cart. I welcome your questions at email: info@clefthelp.com