Our Dandy Walker Warrior Princess

Hello everyone, my name is Chris, I’m 37 years old and by all accounts an average guy. I want for very little… except a mate. I was less “unlucky in love” and more arrogant and indecisive, until after joining a management group at a national chain pharmacy, I met the love of my life: Brianna. The first time our eyes met, I went to my boss and told them, “she’s going to be my wife.”

Imagine my surprise when I learned she was only just 18! And (very shortly after) engaged!

But I knew she was special. There was an… aura about her. That rare combination of sexy and sweet; smart and witty, with a smile that could cure any man’s woes, but humble and… just perfect. For three years, however, I held back, never stating my feelings and, as she struggled with her relationship at the time, tried my best to be a friend. It wasn’t long until I could call her one of my very best friends, someone with whom I could confide with no fear of judgement, repetition, and with a warm welcome and generally good, wise-beyond-her-years advice when possible.

After we each struggled for 3 years - me with a growing period of opioid dependence remission and constant mental health work, and her with a man who didn’t value her or treat her right and their child - we finally spoke candidly one evening. It will always be one of the most cherished memories, that night. I remember texting my sister, my nephew, my best pals… anyone who would listen, nearly hyperventilating as I shouted (yes, literally) my new reality and refrain:

”Oh my god. I think it’s finally happening!”

It’s now 9 months later, and we couldn’t be more in love with each other and our little family. After getting an apartment together in Essex and getting close with her (now) 2 year old son (who I have known since he was born and who’s always been my buddy) we began talking about our future. We wanted a family, and while I’ll always treat her boy like he’s my own, it’s the human imperative to procreate and see your lineage live on. However, due to some injuries growing up and playing hockey as best 24/7 as possible, I was previously told this may be difficult.

While sitting in our new, lovely apartment and having a well earned weekend alone, as I cooked in the toasty 95-degree summer weather, I heard “the gasp.” Brianna yells to me to close my eyes, and I do under protest. She tells me to open them and she’s holding a thermometer… no… it’s a pregnancy test. And there’s… one… two… two lines?! What does two lines mean? Pregnant?! Let me check again… two lines, preggo, there’s one… there’s two…

”Baby… are we…?” I asked, a sharp pain in my throat and my heart climbing to meet it. Brianna burst into the only tears a man wants to see from his lady: accompanied by the most beautiful smile, somehow a step above the previous record holder (i.e. Brianna minus 3 years).

We collapsed onto our crappy little futon couch and just cried and hugged and cried. I laughed maniacally. I was blinded by her beauty and the first tears brewed from my baby. Life was good.

__________

Brianna’s first pregnancy was uneventful, at least from my point of view where I was still just “the friend.” After we hit the 2nd trimester and had started sharing our good news, I noticed she was complaining about pains and discomfort a lot. I told myself I was just being my normal neurotic self, but we kept needing to rush in for spotting… or pains… or awful pains that took my love to her knees.

On the 15th of October - just 6 days after the best birthday I’d ever had (thanks to the missus) and just 5 days after my stepson Logan’s birthday, I rushed Brianna to the emergency room. After a lengthy, anxious wait, the doctors came in and said, essentially, everything looked good. We breathed a sigh of relief. As we left, I asked the doctor if we should keep our 8 am appointment with our OB/GYN, as it was past midnight now anyway). She replied that, sure, why not, better safe then sorry.

Later that morning there was a new doctor at Affiliates - one I’d never seen. Brianna would later tell me it was the doctor who delivered her, but the outlier was evident. The doctor had looked over the previous nights trip to the ER and worried our baby had bad kidneys. We struggled to accept the new reality and figure out the next steps, for what feels like a month. Really it was less than a day’s time, but we needed to know. Another half a day later, and her kidneys are okay, but she has low amniotic fluid… and a few hours later, we got to the end of the current-diagnosis-road…

Our baby, little itty bitty pear-sized Evariste Ottley Dugan, suffered from Dandy Walker Syndrome. Originally due 3/25/2022, Evariste - or Ev, Everly, Eve, our little peanut — we had a whole slew of nick names ready to go! — may now never have any type of life, let alone quality. Dandy walker patients can have body deformities, mental disabilities, still birth, and sometimes injury to mom.

And that’s basically where we are. After working for Walgreens for 3 1/2 years including the brand’s initial entry to Vermont as well as working through the entire COVID-19 explosion (with no protective equipment or time off allowances mind you), I was laid off (first they eliminated my position on the organization, then laid me off when I was unhappy with getting a pay cut).

Brianna, as I mentioned experiencing pain during pregnancy, first taking a Friday and the weekend off for doctor appointed bed rest, was then fired when she brought in a note the following Monday stating she needed bed rest for another week. We both have full unemployment accounts in the meantime luckily, however, and while there appear to be many jobs available, we’ve found (by applying to the same places, unbeknownst to each other) HR staffs rarely call you back, and if they do, the sign on bonus and hourly rate advertised becomes mysteriously non existent and much lower, respectively.

Having my first baby on the way, obviously this isn’t ideal, but we were staying sane because her job had previously been very positive about her performance, and there’s a lot more opportunity here than the 30-45 mins north from where we came. Now with a trip to Boston tomorrow for a second opinion and fetal MRI, rent due any day, and Brianna won’t see a check for another couple to few weeks at best, we’re feeling the crunch.

I debated on even making this page. I’ve believed for a long time in personal accountability, and I wish I was able to make this all happen smoothly. But I’m afraid for rent; our rapidly depleting food shelves; unknown upcoming trips around the New England region for a baby we may no longer get to love properly; and just before I made this I was trying to figure out how we can even make it to Boston with fuel so costly, food added on, and an indeterminate stay.

I’m scared. Losing Brianna isn’t an option. I love her son like he’s my own. And I love our little home. We’ve both promised each other to stay diligent about our various medications and that we both need to get back into therapy (oh and, hey, more bills!) so as to keep our current family strong and hopefully welcome a healthy Everly or another baby down the road into our lives.

Ever since I got clean and sober in March 2015, I’ve found the best thing for my depression was to help others: I’ve donated a lions share of my earnings - paltry though both are in the grand scheme of things - and time to various charities and Go Find Mes, so I’m hoping that positive karma can come back to me. Brianna deserves the world, and I can’t even give her this and… it sucks, to be blunt. I want her to be healthy and prosperous. I want to see her son play hockey (if he wants) or whatever his talents and interests are. And I want a brother or sister for him and a child of our love for us.

Anything contributed will be greatly appreciated, and all funds will go towards figuring out Evariste’s options, travel, and medical bills. Again, anything is so amazing of you, and Brianna, Little mister, baby E, and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts.