“Life imitates art far more than art imitates life,” Oscar Wilde famously wrote, but sometimes it is indeed the latter.
For example, my novel in progress features an enchanted typewriter upon which things that are typed magically come true. To illustrate how this imitates life, let me share something I typed three decades ago:
“The storm clouds are clearing. From here on out it is going to be rainbows for Dallas. Life will be an endless string of tap-ins for birdie, 40-serving-loves, proms and roses and four-leaf clovers.”
The computer keyboard I wrote that column on proved enchanted. Sure, there have been some stepped-on thorns and stepped-in cow pies in her field of four-leaf clovers – but mostly it has been a Rose Parade and Disneyland and a sunset beach walk for my daughter who was born three months prematurely weighing 2 pounds, 6 ounces.
My little preemie Dallas and and her daughter Maya.
She came into the world by an emergency Cesarean section because my wife’s preeclampsia, a life-threatening collection of syllables for both mother and fetus, spiked rapidly out of control. Santa Maria did not have a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit so a four-person team of specialists flew from Fresno to perform the dicey delivery and – if prayers were answered – take the newborn back with them.
Lisa pleaded for anesthesia as she did not want to be awake and NOT hear a newborn’s cry, but because she recently ate before the abrupt turn of events this was not possible. Holding her new daughter also proved not possible because mother and child both required continued emergency care.
All the while, my hours passed like days before a doctor finally came out to tell me I had a daughter. “She’s a real fighter,” he added and she would need to be.
While Lisa remained in the Operating Room, an NICU incubator-on-wheels was rushed to the ambulance bay for a siren-fast ride to the airport and a flight to Fresno. En route, however, the four superheroes in scrubs stopped briefly in the hospital’s hallway.
In one of the kindest acts I have ever experienced, and surely ever will, a surgical nurse opened one of the round portals and told me to place my hand on Dallas’ tiny, delicate, skinny torso. In the coming days and weeks, I would have to scrub my hands with disinfecting medical soap for a full three minutes before visiting Dallas in the NICU in Fresno, but presently there was no time for that.
The angelic nurse explained, calmly but quickly, that Dallas had not yet felt skin-to-skin contact because Lisa had been unable to and the medical team of course wore surgical gloves. The nurse emphasized that such real touch is vital.
Her grave tone and penetrating eyes delivered an unspoken cold truth as well: “This might be the only opportunity your daughter will ever have to feel skin-to-skin touch.”
Thermal air rose out from the open portal as I timidly reached into the high-tech Plexiglas womb, carefully avoiding numerous wires and monitors, and ever so gently placed my hand on Dallas’ stomach. Her skin was warm and supremely soft and wondrous. It remains, to this day, arguably the most magical moment of my life.
That 15-1/2-inch baby girl now stands 5-foot-10 and has no heart or lung ailments as “extreme preemies” often do in adulthood. Indeed, she ran track and cross country through high school.
Too, Dallas has enjoyed proms and roses and four-leaf clovers; her own book signings and wedding day and motherhood; and today, May 29, a healthy and happy 34th birthday.
Yes, my enchanted keyboard worked some real magic.
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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.
Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com