by Paige Wetzel
As she shared her feelings, I could tell she was hesitant to do so. Ever since I had arrived at Walter Reed, it had been all about me. Paige put her entire life into a suitcase to care for me. She could never complain, sigh, or cry in front of me in those early days, or really process anything for herself. I felt honored and grateful that she was finally telling me the truth of her feelings. Our marriage counseling had opened a lot of doors for us, but the daily grind of life, even more so life as a caregiver, had all but broken her. I suggested the only thing I knew to say: “Why don’t you coach volleyball again?”
PAIGE
Josh told me that I needed to find something for just myself, but I didn’t even know where to start with that. I thought he meant taking up a pottery class or something. When he suggested that I coach volleyball again, that was like unearthing a buried relic. “For real?” I responded, only thinking of the time involved. But then my brain would counter with I cannot sit here for the next eight months and just wait for a baby to be born. We decided that I needed to coach travel volleyball and finish my master’s degree in sports management. People thought I was crazy to commit to a travel volleyball schedule, but as luck would have it, Metro American Volleyball Club out of DC took us as a package deal. They allowed Josh to go to club tournaments and practices as if he were part of the coaching staff. It went unnoticed by the players and parents on my team, but coaching for Metro was the first “normal” activity we had participated in since before deployment. Coaching volleyball allowed me to get away from the hospital with Josh. And, above all, I had a job! I was getting paid for something I was good at! I had also gotten in touch with an old college professor to ask if I could continue chipping away at my master’s degree. He encouraged me to do so. I had a three-semester window to get it done, because I had not taken classes since moving to Washington state. After writing a few letters and reacquainting myself with the graduate program, I would begin my graduate classes in August 2013, and all tuition would be paid for by America’s Fund, an amazing nonprofit that raises money to be given directly to the families of wounded veterans for whatever needs they have. Oh, did I mention that my baby was due August 23? Everyone who thought I was crazy was right, but I was so thankful to be carving out pieces of my identity and rediscovering my gifts.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WHEN THE SHOE IS ON THE OTHER FOOT
For you make me glad by your deeds, LORD; I sing for joy at what your hands have done.
—Psalm 92:4
PAIGE
Christmas was spent in North Alabama spreading the good news of baby Wetzel to all the grandparents. Josh and I also celebrated our second wedding anniversary. I definitely felt like it had been a lot longer than that. When we returned to Walter Reed, the club volleyball season was in full swing: three practices a week and three-day tournaments twice a month. Even on my worst days, when I was tired from pregnancy, the military, and handicapped caregiving, I still wanted to go to volleyball. We were set to travel to tournaments in Atlanta, Minneapolis, Raleigh, Philadelphia, and even USAV Nationals in Dallas, my belly growing with every trip. Our family didn’t get to see us often, so they were always surprised to see a growing bump when they came to town. I did my very best to take baby bump pictures every week, and we decided to host a gender reveal party. However, a military hospital would, once again, show its differences from a regular hospital. Even though I had an appointment reminder from the front desk on the obstetrics floor and a receipt from my last appointment confirming my anatomy ultrasound, I still had to go down to radiology, back up to obstetrics, over to the maternity floor, then back again to obstetrics just to learn that they didn’t have me down for any imaging that day, just a regular check-up. I needed the results of that anatomy scan today for the gender reveal. I. Lost. It. Seriously, I was a stereotypical out-of-control pregnant lady, crying, yelling, demanding, sweating, and pacing in the lobby. Not my best moment, but an anatomy scan was ordered! The results were kept secret and sent to a friend so they could make the blue or pink frosting to go inside of our cupcakes. Despite the stress, Josh and I made it to our party, along with the cupcakes and all of our friends. After we thanked them for their support and love, we all bit into our cupcakes to reveal a pink center—a baby girl!
The cold weather was easing, which, for Josh, meant the beginning of baseball season. Our friends Tori and Andrew seemed to be the only people at the hospital who love sports as much as we do. After spending much of college football season together and going to see every athlete who came through Walter Reed, we started having conversations about traveling to see as many ballparks on this side of the country as we could. My growing belly was also a call for a last hurrah before the baby arrived. Thus was born the Great Baseball Tour of 2013.
JOSH
An organization called All32in17 was founded by a father and son who had made connections with people affiliated with professional sports teams. Their powers combined with Tori Smith’s scheduling created a baseball trip in which we saw seven American ballparks in seven days. We began at Camden Yards to watch the Orioles, then Yankee Stadium, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Detroit, and Toledo, and we finished in Cincinnati. It was going to be a dream of a trip. Not only did we plan this outing without any assistance from the hospital, but we did so much more than go to the games. We got to be on the field for batting practice at every single game. Andrew and I were able to throw the first pitch at the Toledo Mud Hens game, and we got to retrieve the lineups from the
Cincinnati Reds manager and bring them to the home plate umpire before the game.
The Detroit Tigers ended up being the biggest score—in runs for the team, but also for us as fans. We got on the field for batting practice, and Triple Crown winner Miguel Cabrera gave Andrew his bat! Torii Hunter, not to be outdone by his teammate, gave me his bat and gave us both follows on Twitter! We also got to meet Joe Maddon and Evan Longoria of the visiting Tampa Bay Rays. We watched a great game and then decided after the game to stand on the sidewalk next to the home team’s parking garage, hoping to get more autographs of a few players. First came Prince Fielder. Prince was super nice and gave us autographs and took photos. We waited and waited for Justin Verlander to make an appearance. People kept saying, “He drives the nicest car you’ve ever seen, and he won’t stop for anyone.” Paige smirked and replied, “We’ll see about that,” and then messaged him over and over on Twitter. We were almost ready to call it a night when the garage door opened and out rolled a crimson Aston Martin. There was an obvious buzz in the crowd, because they all knew who that car belonged to. Andrew and I stepped into the street a little, and the car pulled over as the passenger side window rolled down. The driver said, “Hey, are you the ones that have been tweeting at me?” Justin Verlander signed our Verlander jerseys and thanked us for our service before he drove away. We were in a daze the entire drive back to the hotel. You could have blown us over with a feather! We had pulled it off. We had successfully gone on a non-hospital-sanctioned trip. Andrew and I got our leave approved in time, Tori booked handicap-accessible hotel rooms, and we managed our own wheelchairs and prostheses without the help of a physical therapist. It was something a lot of other amputees were afraid to try, but Paige and I were more nervous to move out of Walter Reed without ever trying a solo trip.
The day after the Detroit game, we made our way back to Walter Reed. Our Great Baseball Tour had come to an end, and it was incredible to think about all the things we got to do in just a few short days. We saw Mariano Rivera close on opening day in Yankee Stadium. We met great players like Bryce Harper, Cliff Lee, Chase Utley, and Joey Votto. Andrew and I got to be guest captains, game-day commentators, and military members of the game for almost all the games we went to. We even got to be in the crowd on Good Morning America, where we met Brad Paisley, while we were in New York. We were crushing it at this recovery thing! Next on our list was gearing up for the next big adventure: life as an amputee dad.
After the baseball trip, it
was time to focus on setting myself up for success as a father. We went and tested dozens of rocking chairs for the baby to make sure I could get up without falling or dropping the baby. (Pro tip: if you find yourself legless one day, get a rocking chair with a recline lever on one side and a brake lever on the other.) My physical therapy routine even changed. My physical therapist, Navy Lieutenant Marmelejo, created obstacle courses I had to conquer while holding a medicine ball or a sack of flour. I felt confident I would be able to do anything with a baby in my arms. Lt. Marmelejo quickly reminded me that I didn’t have the balance and coordination I once had. Every day the man would put me through an obstacle course that looked like it should be on the TV show Wipeout. Just when you think you’re thriving in physical therapy and accomplishing every goal placed in front of you, baby training comes in and wrecks it all. I quickly learned that I needed to kick things into overdrive to get ready for the baby. I didn’t want to be a dad who just sits around and watches everyone else take care of his kid. I wanted to be a solid contributor to the team. Every time I dropped Baby Flour, I was one step closer to not dropping Baby Wetzel.
PAIGE
I reached thirty-nine weeks and did what every hugely pregnant mom does at the end: I sat around and waited. People told me to “watch for signs,” but what were the signs? Nothing felt right in the first place. I felt pain constantly. My hips, knees, back, and feet were always hurting. I also had a few spurts of Braxton Hicks contractions, which gave me pains that actually frightened me a little bit. Not to mention this baby had no more room to grow. With every kick or jab of the elbow, I could feel my skin stretching to its limits. Every day brought a different ache, ailment, or mysterious “sign of labor,” so after a while, I just rested on the fact that this baby would come at her own time. I went to my appointments, answering the same questions at check-in that I did on my first visit, with the same diagnosis: “no changes, just hang in there.”
On August 22, Josh and I went to a barbecue outside of Building 62. People couldn’t believe I had not gone into labor yet. I just shrugged my shoulders and ate a fourth scoop of ice cream. After the barbecue, Josh and I went back to our room. I sat down for a few minutes, and my ankles and feet started to swell at an alarming rate. My skin was so stretched that I feared I would tear it open if I walked too fast or turned too sharply. I strongly questioned whether I had been stung by something or was having a reaction to something I ate (in both feet at the same time? I told you I was clueless). I tried to elevate my legs and relax, but it didn’t go away. What else could happen to my body at this point? Nothing worked, so we just went to bed. Around three in the morning, I woke up with horrible pain in my lower back. It was a radiating pain that went all the way to the back of my knees. The pain was so bad that I was afraid to lie down because I wasn’t sure I could get back up. I walked around quietly, trying not to wake Josh. The pain came in waves but it was consistently taking my breath away. I woke Josh up and told him I was in labor. The scene afterward was comical: Josh sat up and put his glasses on then looped a duffel bag around his neck while wheeling around frantically trying to pack his things. I was determined to get a shower before we went to labor and delivery. However, getting in the hot water made the mild contractions level up to severe contractions. I abandoned that plan. It was finally go time! Josh put his legs on and loaded the wheelchair with the hospital bag.
I started down the sidewalk from Building 62 to the hospital with Josh trailing behind. He shouted, “Are you sure you don’t want me to push you?!”
“No!” I yelled back. “You don’t walk fast enough!” Josh had just learned how to pick up a pacifier off the floor without dropping Baby Flour; there was no way he was going to be able to safely push me down a hill into the maternity ward. And at the rate I was moving, all Josh needed to worry about was getting the overnight bag down the hill and praying that I didn’t have the baby in the parking garage.
By the time we made it to the maternity floor, I was a sweaty mess. They checked me in at four centimeters dilated, and I met the unfamiliar doctor who would deliver my baby. We called our family to let them know our baby girl was on her way.
My labor experience is one I won’t forget anytime soon. I was okay for a good portion of the labor, pushing through the pain by thinking about all the volleyball drills and sprints I had completed in less than ninety seconds. The pain would come in waves and put tension on my body that was severe enough to stress my vital signs. Then, my labor stalled out and I needed Pitocin. With Pitocin, I could no longer feel contractions coming, so they surprised me like I was being stabbed. I couldn’t breathe during the contractions, and I was seeing stars after each one. They were coming every two minutes on the dot. Eventually, I started throwing up and I begged for an epidural. The epidural was administered, but I asked to not be totally numb. I was entering hour nine and I did not want to tack on more time than necessary by adding a sedative. I just wanted to work through contractions without passing out or puking. The doctors were checking my progress, and the Pitocin was doing its job. The doctor who checked me in broke my water and estimated it would be less than two hours until our baby girl was here. Thank God, I am ready for this to be over. She sent in an order for the delivery team to start assembling. My labor intensified drastically within the hour. Suddenly the labor team began quickly setting up a cleaning station and surgery supplies in my room, and they even put a huge tarp on the floor underneath my bed.
Someone suddenly dropped the end of the bed down and my feet were in stirrups. I thought, Okay, this is it! But then, I looked around the room and thought, Wait, where is the doctor? The labor team, a midwife, and the medical intern were all there, but where was the doctor who broke my water? The question quickly passed as I was attacked by another contraction that felt like it was going to make my eyeballs pop out. The contraction passed, and I surveyed the room again, hoping to see the doctor, but no such luck. I could see whispering among the staff as they poked their heads out the door. Now my contractions were seconds apart. I did two practice pushes that obviously made some progress, because the poor intern finally stepped up to the plate and mentally prepared to deliver my child. The poor girl looked over her shoulder for the last time and finally said, “All right, Mrs. Wetzel, give me one more push.” So I did, and out came six-pound, eight-ounce Harper Lynn Wetzel. I lost it when I saw her, and so did Josh. They cleaned her and wrapped her up to hand her to me. She looked me straight in the face like, “It’s nice to put a face with the voice I’ve been hearing for nine months.” She was so striking and calm, as if she realized that she was just a few years from being an adult herself. I thought I was never going to put her down. She was the first newborn I had ever held. I was so in love with her and with her dad. Watching Josh hold his first child melted my heart. He was meant to be this girl’s dad. All my lack of confidence about being a parent subsided when I saw the ownership Josh proclaimed over this little girl. I thought, Yep, this guy’s about to wear all the crowns, drink all the tea, and learn all the manners from Harper Lynn.
JOSH
I completely and fully understood the term bundle of joy as I looked into the eyes of my little girl. Gosh, she was amazing. Paige was amazing. My wife is just a teeny bit independent with everything, and when it was time to go to the hospital, I was instructed to get out of her way. I even offered my wheelchair, but she was moving so fast that I ended up hopping in the wheelchair just to keep up! When it was time for Harper to enter the world, I suddenly became so nervous. I started fidgeting and getting in people’s way, but Paige got this look of determination on her face like I had never seen. Seeing my child come into the world was a true miracle. What my body had been through was unique and difficult, but it amazes me how childbirth is considered a normal thing for women.
I stood beside the cleaning station as they weighed and measured my baby girl. I could not stop crying. It’s a hard feeling to describe, but she was just so precious. I had waited for her for months. I sang
to her and played tag with her every day in Paige’s tummy. Now that she was here, I almost felt unworthy of holding her while also not wanting to share her with anyone. I wanted Paige to hold her first. My wife looking at the little girl she worked so hard to deliver was the best image in the world. Paige was so exhausted, but she just kept looking at Harper as if to say, “You are so worth it.” I couldn’t help but try to hold her hand or touch her little foot while Paige was holding her. When Paige handed her to me, Harper looked right through me. It was like she knew exactly who I was and was ready to start bossing me around. We sat in the rocking chair and talked all night about how we were going to play with Barbies and get a trampoline and watch Auburn football. She just stared at me and listened without making a peep. Sometimes, I feel like love can be really hard and a lot of work, but loving this baby was the easiest, most instinctual experience of my life. I never knew I could love something as much as I loved her.
When we got home, I was trying my best to do everything a father could do (changing diapers, getting her back to sleep, getting pillows for me, etc.), but it was clear that all Harper really wanted was Paige.
PAIGE
I was a brand-new, clueless mom who had a newborn and a legless husband living in a barracks room on a hospital base. Despite the weirdness, I was determined to be a trailblazer in this uncharted territory. Josh was obsessed with Harper and did anything I needed him to do. I found comfort in the memories of our first days in the hospital and thought, At least when this one cries, I can feed her or change her to make her feel better. As the days turned into weeks, Josh and I grew extremely tired. I would feed her, and then Josh would change her and put her back to sleep. Even though we were exhausted, things were good. Then, something started happening to me that I couldn’t explain. Something that scared me. It would creep up on me like a thief in the night. Something that even years later I can hardly put into words. I began having vivid dreams and visions about harming my baby.
