A&E

Confessions of a Showgirl: A new(born) lesson in love and compassion

Image
Kirbi, Corbin and Laz.
Maren Wade

Okay, I have a confession to make. I’m not going to be confessing today. Instead I want to spotlight a heartfelt story from one of the most extraordinary showgirls I know. What makes this column even more special? You’re going to hear from this showgirl herself, in her own words.

Meet Kirbi Long. She’s performed in many shows on the Strip, including Jubilee and Vegas! The Show, and most recently added motherhood to her resume. This is Kirbi’s story, written by her. It’s also the most beautifully written piece I’ve ever read:

*****

When my husband, Laz, and I got pregnant, we were scared to be parents, excited to have a child, nervous that we wouldn't be good enough at parenting, and relieved we were so easily able to get pregnant. We bought the furniture way too early (thanks to me), started planning our lives very quickly, and tried getting our finances in order the best we could for the arrival of our little one. I began nesting very early, preparing for the little person who was about to turn our fairly normal world into a new one full of love we had never experienced, sleepless nights, tears, cuddles, giggles, diapers, breast feeding, and a whole new feeling of being "tied down." We were due March 30.

I am a singer professionally on the Strip, my husband an ex-dancer turned scuba diving technician, also in a show on the Strip. We work late shifts, arriving home at midnight, sometimes 3 a.m. if we decide to grab a drink after work. I also travel pretty extensively, touring on cruise ships and across the country with different theatrical groups. Well, our exciting, easy lives were about to change, and we knew it. We knew we would have to adjust our "normal" with a brand new normal that included all that goes with having a newborn baby.

At 13 weeks we had our first pre-screening ultrasound. We were so excited to see the new baby on that monitor, and we both swore the baby looked just like Laz. It made things real. We were actually listening to that little heartbeat and it really sunk in ... we were actually going to have a baby!

Then we got a call that rocked our world. There was something wrong with the pregnancy. The baby had a nuchal translucency measurement of 6.2 ... normal was under 2. It was a strong marker for a few things: Down syndrome, heart conditions, all of the trisomies. We were hoping it would just go away, but it didn't. We took a test that would screen for chromosomal problems and waited two weeks for the results. The longest two weeks of my life I waited and waited, imagining what our lives would be like if he was mentally handicapped. When I got the call, my friend Alison was with me. I held my breath as the doctor, relieved, announced that our baby did not have any chromosomal problems, with 99 percent accuracy. She then asked us if we wanted to know the sex, and I said yes. "Are you ready?" she asked. "Yes," I responded. "You are having a boy!" After I hung up the phone, Alison and I bought blue food coloring and cake mix and I made Laz the ugliest cake in the world (I am a terrible cake froster). He was so happy, and so very relieved.

We planned a party to celebrate our "marriage" which had happened earlier that year, but what we were really planning to announce was the most exciting thing in the world for us. We couldn't wait to tell our friends that we were having a baby! We had waited five weeks longer than most people because of the scare, and were ready to tell everyone when I was 18 weeks pregnant. I had the cake ordered, and my family was attending from Nebraska. But then I went to my next OB/GYN appointment, where my doctor suggested that we not announce the pregnancy just yet. Surprised, I asked her why. She explained that the chromosomal hurdle was huge, but the question still remained. What was wrong? Why was his nuchal translucency score so high? She explained that there was still a very good chance he had a serious heart condition. Needless to say, we canceled our party. It would have been too hard to celebrate the wedding when what we really were going to celebrate was the baby in my belly. The baby that might be seriously sick. We told everyone it was a family emergency, and I cried on the couch for days.

We quickly scheduled an echocardiogram with a fetal cardiologist. Laying on the table and watching the ultrasound technical scroll across my little baby belly to find the baby's heart, I had a bad feeling. The cardiologist discovered that our little boy had a severe heart condition known as a complete atrioventricular (AV) canal defect. It would be a tough road ahead, but it was fixable. He would most likely have to have open-heart surgery at around 3-6 months.

Scared for the baby's future but relieved to finally have answers, we went ahead and announced the pregnancy to our friends, and started planning for his arrival as best we could. We knew he would be in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) for at least two weeks, but could probably take him home before the surgery if things went well so that he could grow and get stronger.

I left my job performing in Vegas! The Show at Miracle Mile Shops at Planet Hollywood as my stomach was getting too big to fit into my costumes. Playing a "pregnant Cher" was one of the highlights of my career. It was comical to say the least, but I also felt very sad. I was leaving a job I had worked so hard for, a job that allowed me to do what I love. Singing has been my passion since I was a little girl, and for me, performing professionally was a dream come true. I was leaving that, even if for a little while, to do something I had no clue about—raising a child, for one, but more than anything, a child with a severe heart defect. I was scared to leave performing, something I knew how to do so well, something that had supported me financially for 11 years and a job that many people dream about. My job had become a huge part of my identity, and I was scared to leave that behind, afraid I might never get it back, afraid I would lose myself after having a child.

After leaving the show in early December, I got a call that a friend who was covering my part in an Abba concert called "Abba Mania" had to back out after booking a show on the Strip. They asked if I would do it. Armed with gold capes and gold platform boots, I traveled to Los Angeles in late December and performed the dance-heavy show for a week ... at 6 months pregnant. I was really proud of myself. That week, I realized that I would perform again, maybe just not right away. I loved it too much to not do it.

January flew by. I flew to Nebraska and saw old friends at my two baby showers that my wonderful friends hosted for me. This little boy was going to be the best-dressed child, hands down! The showers were a breath of fresh air. With all of the stress of the pregnancy and its complications, I finally felt just excited—excited to have a little boy of my very own. I wondered if he would play soccer or basketball because he would probably be tall given my height and his dad's. Would he be able to play or would it be too hard on his little heart? I told myself to stop worrying about that stuff and just focus on what he could do. He could grow up happy and get married and have babies, and we would be a family. The dreams I had for him were endless; perhaps he would be a singer too! I bought a piano and I imagined teaching him to play. I was ready to be a mom to a little baby boy, and that made me really, really happy.

I had started working at Lululemon and I even traveled to Florida to help put the Abba tour up, with a new cast of course. My belly just grew and grew. In February, I began performing at an Alzheimer's facility, and it really helped me get my singing fix, but more importantly it made me feel incredibly happy and fulfilled. I began singing at a cafe and continued shopping for my new little guy to arrive. Laz and I were getting so excited.

At 34 weeks we had another ultrasound to see how big he was getting. By the end of the ultrasound, we were worried again. He was small, way too small. I felt so huge, how could this be true? My doctor put me on bed rest, hoping it would help him fatten up. This surgery would be too difficult to do on a preemie. Keep him in there.

For the next week and a half we had a lot of doctor visits, non-stress tests and ultrasounds every time. All was looking good; he was just way too small and it was probably due to his heart condition. I hoped he would be able to catch up eventually with the rest of the kids his age. I worried he would not. He was so tiny that he was in the first and second percentile. So small. Please, please, please, let him stay in there.

On February 29, we went in for our non-stress test and ultrasound. Something was wrong with his heart rate, but the ultrasound went okay. They asked us to come back the next day for the same tests. Tuesday, March 1, his heart rate was not good, and the ultrasound had gone from good to very, very bad. He was quickly showing signs of congestive heart failure, and my placenta was no longer working. I was 35 weeks and 6 days pregnant. My doctor came in and said, "You are having your baby today. You need to go there now."

Laz and I headed to Sunrise Children's Hospital without any preparation. They had called the cardiologists, the surgeon, all of the doctors, all of the nurses—a very special team was assembled. I sat on the operating table at 5 p.m. with my head against my nurse's chest as they administered the anesthesia. I laid down, unable to feel my legs and watched Laz come into the room. He held my hand and I started shaking uncontrollably. This was it, the moment we had been waiting for. It was happening far too soon, and as they cut me open I felt him tugged from my safe womb. The doctor turned to his team, "Are you ready?," he questioned each of them. He told us later he was very scared to cut the cord. His little life support was about to end. Would he cry or would he just ... go? I stared into my sweet husband's eyes as we waited. Then we heard it, the soft, sweet cry of our little Corbin Gunnar. We both cried along with him, relieved to know he had pulled through.

Laz came over with him probably five minutes later. I looked at his little face and was so happy. We got our picture with him and they took him away. His little face looked like a little doll, and he was very calm. I loved him so much, but was so worried about what the next few hours would bring for him. Laz left with the baby and the doctors, and I laid there, picturing his little face as they sewed up my womb and my belly. I couldn't stop shaking.

The next few hours were a blur. I got up from surgery at 1 a.m. that night and went to the NICU to see Corbin. He was on oxygen and IV's and he was so tired. I was also tired, and the pain was excruciating, but I started pumping. Every two hours I pumped. I pumped and pumped and pumped. A drop here or there, until I got a teaspoon, or maybe even a tablespoon once and a while. Every two hours, I never slept. I just pumped, trying to provide some type of medicine to help fix him. My mom had arrived on Wednesday and never left my side. My best friend Becs even massaged my boobs for me! We were gonna get this little guy better soon, so we could take him home! I wasn't sleeping.

Life was looking up, even though it felt so hard and exhausting. Corbin was doing pretty well, and even went off of oxygen that Thursday. My dad arrived on Friday. Laz and him worked with our landscaper to finish our backyard (a project we started on Monday before we knew we would be having a baby the next day). Corbin started bottle-feeding the milk I was providing, only a teaspoon at a time, but it was something. I even got to feed him. As I held him in my arms, the love I felt for him grew and grew. I have only held him four or five times, for very short periods of time. Things were going so well. Then I spoke with a doctor.

The doctor explained two nights ago that they had to run more tests on him. He had soft markers that they wanted to point out to me. He had some extra thickness at the back of his neck. His neck was very short. His ears were very small for his little head, and his eyes had a bit of an almond shape. I knew they were running the tests days earlier, and it upset me because we had already run these same tests when he was in my womb. These tests were 99 percent accurate, so was this really necessary? The doctor explained that she had called the lab to expedite the tests. I felt dizzy as she explained why the tests may have been incorrect.

I found out that Laz and my parents had known, but chose not to tell me because I was feeling so rough and they weren't sure since the tests were not back. Another doctor felt it was highly unlikely. So they just didn't tell me. Yesterday, I fell into a deep depression, and as I stared into little Corbin's incubator, at his tiny body ridden with IVs, blood on his little heels, a mask to block the blue lights over his eyes, oxygen back in his little pug nose, I knew what else was coming. I just knew this hell that he was experiencing was not the only challenge he would face, and it would not be over in three to six months as we had hoped. As I held his hand and stroked his beautiful little head while the nurses stuck his heel over and over, the feeling of helplessness crushed me, and I saw it crushing him.

Then yesterday happened. The Lasix diuretic they introduced into his body didn't agree with him. This is the medication that would remove the fluid from his heart and lungs, and it didn't agree with him. His kidneys didn't react well, and he got jaundice. They also put him back on oxygen. He was taking a turn for the worse.

This morning, one of the doctors called my husband and asked him if we could meet her today. We said we would be there at noon. My parents, Laz and I walked into the meeting room with the doctor and social worker. We sat in silence as the doctor explained that our little Corbin had trisomy 21. Our strong little boy who is fighting a horrible heart defect has Down syndrome. The test we took was wrong. It was incorrect. It was 99 percent accurate, and we were that 1 percent.

We asked our questions, we shared our emotions, and we left and held Corbin in our arms. They removed his mask so we could hold him, and his perfect little face smiled, and Laz and I just loved him.

I worry that Corbin will associate touch with pain as he does now. I worry that he will not live. I worry that he will not have the opportunities that other children get to experience. I worry.

I also grieve for what I thought Corbin was going to be. A normal child that would have a normal life. Walking into Target today for more breast-feeding supplies, I walked past all of the stuff I had registered for, and I broke into tears. It brought me back to just a week ago, when I was still pregnant, when thought I had a normal child, when I still thought we would have a normal life in three to six months.

I have been having a lot of flashbacks to my childhood. When I was six years old my teacher sat me next to Ben. He was the first child I had ever met with Down syndrome, and I was supposed to help him learn. Every year, Ben and I sat by each other. He and I became good friends, and I treated him like any other child in my class. The children in my school were never mean to Ben. In fact, we were his biggest champions. Each of us left Harvey Oaks Elementary with an unspoken responsibility to protect him, and introduce him to the other kids who would surely be changed by him. When I was six years old, I thought that the intention was to help teach Ben because he struggled learning what the rest of us learned so easily. When we all graduated from high school, it was very apparent that the real teacher was Ben.

I am not sure if everything happens for a reason. I don't think everything does. But I believe that in this case, God was grooming me, preparing me for his very special son, from the age of six. I did not know until today that I would be a mother to a child with Down Syndrome. I am scared and sad for so many reasons. No parents want to see their child struggle. I hate that he is struggling. It is heartache I don't even feel like I can bear.

But I will bear it, and with the help of our family and friends, we will be happy again. I know Corbin will be a teacher, that is my new dream for him. That he will teach the world compassion and love.

To follow Kirbi Long’s journey, visit her blog at corbingunnar.blogspot.com, and to support baby Corbin visit gofundme.com/corbingunnar.

Share
  • The Tony Award-winning musical “Follies” will take the stage at Access Showroom at Aliante Casino & Hotel for six performances starting on April 11.

  • Since opening at the Linq Promenade in March 2014, Brooklyn Bowl Las Vegas has been a destination for some of the best and most under-appreciated ...

  • Sagittarius, for your own selfish sake, you need to pour out more adoration and care and compassion than you ever have before.

  • Get More A&E Stories
Top of Story