My Life As A Premature Baby

When I was younger I lived in a ghetto in upstate New York. I would wake up every morning and walk to my school appropriately titled “Early Learning Center Number 316”. When I say that it was a Ghetto I honestly mean that, historically it had been a housing section for Puerto Ricans, so my school didn’t have many kids that spoke English. The Neighborhood was really a disaster, and very rundown, but I remember one year it the state gave everyone who attended the school (including me) free Christmas presents, which was a nice change. I was happy, and it gave me a sense of awareness at a young age that was different from everyone else.

Five years ago, my mother had a brain aneurysm that she shouldn’t have survived. It was traumatic and damaging and to this day she still isn’t right. The point i’m trying to make is that no matter how much you want time to stay the same, it doesn’t. Many mistakes have been made since then, and a lot has been learned. I wouldn’t want to repeat the past if my life depended on it. After my mother had two major heart defects by the time the brain aneurysm occurred I wasn’t ready to give up my mom. We found out just a short time later that it could’ve been prevented if she would’ve made better choices in her life. My life five years ago was undeniably the worst part of my eighteen almost nineteen years on this earth. I stayed in a hospital waiting room for three months just looking for a sign she would wake back up. No one’s ever said why a waiting room is actually called a waiting room. It’s called this because you are waiting on the rest of your life to unfold, waiting to find out if you’ll ever speak to someone again, just waiting on an answer. It is horrifying to walk down a hallway squeezing your brother’s hand so hard he has to tell you to loosen up all to sit in a waiting room and wait on your fait. So my life was not at all glamorous but it got me where I am today, so really I can’t complain. What made me happy after that was watching my mother wake up and finally life started to get back

When I first decided that I wanted to further my education in nursing, I was inspired by my job as a Home-Health Aide. At the age of sixteen, I started working for a company called Miracles In Motions. I worked with individuals who are mentally and physically disabled; assisting them with all their daily needs. One day on my job, I was introduced to Mr. Peloquin, a man with Cerebral Palsy. I introduced myself to him and he began telling me stories about himself and his disability. I could tell that he enjoyed my company and he expressed that he does not get to tell his stories often. The story that really caught my interest involved his recent hospital visit. He told me how mistreated he had been by the hospital staff due to his disability; there was no interaction from the health professionals, and he was not treated like a human being. He stressed to me that he hated the way he was treated and that this was just one of multiple similar situations. Conversing with Mr. Peloquin that day gave me a heavy

The cold October wind blew the drizzle right into my face as I got out my car. The fog coated my glasses as soon as I walked into the Hinsdale United Methodist Church. I was invited to play the violin at a ceremony hosted by the local hospital for women who had a miscarriage. In pain of sorrow there is consolation, in the face of despair there is hope, and in the midst of death there is life. October is the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month and the first candle to honor the experience, validate the brief life and pay tribute to the loss of babies.

Some of my favorite memories made in high school thus far are due to my involvement in the Best Buddies program. Best Buddies is offered across the United States and is a non-profit organization dedicated to ending the exclusion of people with special needs. I joined the program my freshman year and was selected my junior year of high school to be in the Best Buddies class where I get to develop a closer relationship with all of the buddies. In total there are about twenty-five special needs kids that attend my school. I am proud to attend a school that welcomes these kids and always makes sure to include them in major school events and extracurricular activities. Recently, Tyler, one of the buddies, scored a touchdown while playing with our varsity football team. This was a proud moment for the Best Buddies class because we wanted him to have this amazing experience.

When I entered high school in Saline, I was a part of the Connecting Program. The program was designed for students to learn about different disabilities, the politics of special education, and to give us experience in the classroom working with students who had a range of disabilities. I took this class so many times that I had to start taking it as an independent study so I could continue learning and participating in classrooms with students. It felt like home to be working with children.

My dad left for work like any other morning, but he never came back that night. I don’t remember my birthday that year. I spent a lot of time in various hospitals, thinking my situation couldn’t get any worse and that no one could possible understand what I was going through. That is, until I finally looked around and saw people in positions exactly like mine or even worse. I let myself get so intertwined with my own problems, I didn’t take notice to my surroundings. It was during these times spent at the hospital that I really developed a compassion for others. Up until that point I was considerably self-absorbed, but during this period I was enlightened and was compelled with the need to care for others. This trying time for my family sparked a fire in me to not only notice the needs of others but fulfill

Working alongside peers who were very different than me, but were also similar. In Kindergarten, I was placed in an experimental classroom that was designed to integrate students with special needs into the mainstream classroom. I remember students receiving extra attention, but the teachers were always focused on each and every one of us building that connection. I still talk to Mrs. K every few years. She built a very special connection with her students.

For elementary school to middle school I attended Federico Degetau a public school about twenty minutes from the area I was living at. For ninth and tenth grade I attended the Academia Adventist del Norte, which was a Christian academy. I have great memories from that wonderful academy. One of which I had my first leadership position of being the president of my gradating class (9th grade). Walking into the classroom of that academy I remember as if it were today, feeling a sense

I was born June 21, 1999, at Rainbow Children’s Hospital. When I was born, my feet were bent crooked. I had to wear casts on both of my feet until I turned one year old. I still even have my casts to this day. My Aunt Tricia chose my full name, Deja Monae Kent. I do not know how, but my mom thought I was a little boy and she was going to name me Devante (NO, the doctors did not tell her incorrect information). I really do not know where Deja came from, but Monae came from this baby at our church. The first couple of years of my life were beautiful. I was passed around from family member to family member on my mother’s side of the family every week; they just could not get enough of me or my smile.

I have had numerous opportunities to volunteer and work with children of all abilities. Many of these children had independent or concurrent learning disabilities, emotional problems, and/or behavioural problems. I met these individuals through organizations I volunteered or worked for, programs I organized, and through summer camps where I was a counsellor that all catered children with disabilities. I also have personal relationships with children of family friends.

My prenatal development was normal. There were not any concerns or worries about my development. My mom had a fairly normal pregnancy other than preeclampsia. Preeclampsia is a medical condition in women who have not experienced high blood pressure, and developed in during a pregnancy (Preeclampsia and Eclampsia, 2016). High protein levels in urine and swelling of the hands, legs and feet are other symptoms of preeclampsia. My mom had an ultrasound at fourteen weeks. She did not have any other testing like an amniocentesis or chorionic villus sampling. It was unnecessary.

Throughout my entire life, I have only attended 2 schools. From 3-year-old preschool to eighth grade, I went to St. John’s Lutheran School in LaGrange. From freshman year to senior year, I went to Walther Lutheran High School in Melrose Park. Overall my impression at both of those schools were great, I learned many things, and made amazing friends that I still have to this day. Both of my schools were small so I always had one on ones with the teachers, so I was able to have a special relationship with them.

The summer before my senior year, I worked at Camp Evergreen, a Christian summer camp in north Georgia. My cabin that summer was the oldest boys, there would be two first-time campers joining us. One of them was an older foster child who has had a lasting impact on the way that I empathize with the experiences of others. His name was Chris.

In early 1977, the world as I knew it was slowly dissolving. My beloved grandfather became gravely ill, and transgressed to the next realm in August of 1981. This was a very dark difficult period for my family. The happiest days of my life were spent with my grandparents. It became extremely difficult to concentrate and control my emotions during this period. On June 6, 1984, the joy of my life was birthed into this world, my son. His birth signaled a new journey for me, setting a solid foundation for the rest of my life. I was a newly minted wife and mother with different responsibilities for the care and lives of two other people. This foundation helped me to deal with the blow of my grandmother transgressing from brain cancer less than one month after the birth of my son. My