Chapter Text
San Antonio, Texas, September 17, 1970
A deep, guttural scream, heard throughout the Christus Santa Rosa maternity ward. Rounding the corner is a woman being wheeled in a wheelchair, almost about to burst. Behind her trails her husband, face covered in worry. The nurse, pushing the wheelchair, took a sharp turn, wheeling her into a room filled with medical equipment and a bed, ready to be broken down for easier maneuvering.
After hours of hard labor, the woman and her husband finally had a beautiful baby girl. At first, as they lovingly gazed at their baby, they at first thought the baby had little to know hair, but as they looked closer they realized that she had a head full of honey blonde hair, unlike either of their dark brown, almost black hair. They couldn't really pinpoint where she got the blonde hair from, but they didn't care, boiled it down to some sort of recessive gene they had forgotten about. Despite how perfect they thought their bundle of joy was, they still couldn't look past an issue. Their little girl was born with a cleft palate, along with a cleft lip, the doctor who delivered the baby told the both of them that another doctor would come in to discuss what will be done, but that was over two hours ago and there wasn't a sign that they were going to be there. Baby girl Dela Cruz was born at 7:42 am, the doctor came to talk to them at 11:36 am.
Surgery, the doctor said. The only way to fix the deformity is with surgery. They wanted to wait at least 6 months, maybe even more. Mother and father, sitting with their happy little angel, trying to be brave for the little girl. “She's not going to die, you know,” He said. She turned her gaze from her daughter to him, “I know that, but it still makes me nervous. I mean, surgery? At such a young age too, I'm sure that will have some risks.” “Yuka”, he began, as he picked up their daughter out of her hands, “Every surgery has risks, and this one isn’t up for debate, she needs this surgery, if it was just her lip maybe but her palate? You heard what the doctor said, leaving it longer than needed can cause infections.” “I know that, Antonio, but surgery on a baby? We have to wait months before they can operate because it is dangerous!” She started crying, “what if something goes wrong, what if it gets complicated and we lose her-” “Yuka I am going to stop you there because she is not going to die. It is a facial repair, not open heart surgery. I would never lie to you.” He got down beside her bed and grabbed her hand, laying his face in the palm, “She will be just fine, she has her mother and her father.” While she stayed quiet, she shook her head in agreement. She eventually fell asleep, as it had been almost 24 hours since she had been able to close her eyes, and seven months since she had uninterrupted sleep.