10

THE BIGGIE

FOR AS LONG AS MIA had been receiving medical care at ICI, we had heard about a procedure I refer to as “the biggie”—the bone graft surgery that took bone from Mia’s hip and grafted it into her jaw. When Mia’s jaw movement finally hit a plateau, we scheduled this major surgery for January 3, 2014.

Five years had passed since her lip touch-up, and during that time our lives had changed dramatically. Our family, once just a bunch of people trying our best to love God and love each other in our hometown of West Monroe, Louisiana, had become celebrities. That had changed our schedule and our financial situation, but for Jase and me, it had changed little else. We still held firm to our values and convictions, as we do to this day.

The Robertson family’s early media exposure began about the time of Mia’s five-year surgery. Duck Commander had been making hunting videos since 1988 and had a small but loyal following of fans, but our visibility increased when Benelli, a firearms company that makes shotguns and rifles, created a series called Benelli Presents Duck Commander. The program aired on the Outdoor Channel for three years and was the first of its kind to feature a reality aspect, which in this case included all of our family members.

When Duck Dynasty premiered on A&E in March 2012, our entire family found ourselves in the spotlight. It began with baby steps, but when the second season started, things began to snowball. By the first episode of season four—“Till Duck Do Us Part,” when Phil and Miss Kay renewed their marriage vows—twelve million households were watching. For Jase and me, however, the celebrity status we enjoy has never been about fame and fortune. We are certainly glad our finances are not so tight anymore and we do not have to worry about paying our medical bills as we did when Mia was a baby, but we were a happy family before our resources increased, and we will be happy when the current benefits of Duck Dynasty fade away. Our joy and security in life have never been tied to any material thing; they have always been in God and in our relationships with people, especially our family. We have not wanted to use our visibility to promote ourselves, but to point people toward God, to share our faith, and to raise awareness of cleft lip and palate. In our minds, those are the reasons God has allowed us the level of influence Duck Dynasty has provided.

No matter how much media exposure anyone has, it does absolutely nothing to make a difficult situation easier, especially when a child with medical needs is involved. Sure, we were on television, on one of the highest-rated shows on cable, but we still had to deal with Mia’s condition. Being television personalities could not reduce the stress or anxiety of knowing our child had to face a major surgical procedure or make her challenges go away. When it came to Mia’s surgery, Jase and I were just two ordinary parents concerned about our little girl.

But I realized there was one thing our celebrity status could do. If A&E would film the events surrounding Mia’s bone graft surgery, we could help bring attention to the condition of cleft lip and palate. So we pitched the idea a few months prior to Mia’s surgery. They balked.

“Duck Dynasty is a comedy show,” they explained to us. “This situation with Mia’s surgery isn’t funny. We don’t want to try to make it something people will laugh at.”

They did have valid concerns, but I didn’t agree with their decision. I felt that our audience could handle a more serious subject. I had met so many people who were interested in Mia that I was confident the episode would work. Besides, when we were doing shows with Benelli, they included an episode that featured both Mia’s first surgery and Willie playing Santa Claus, comically struggling to get in his suit. It was a hit. The more we talked to A&E, the more everyone realized it might be a good idea. Mia’s response? “Awesome!” The network arranged to send a single cameraman to capture the hospital segment on film for the longer episode. Normally, Duck Dynasty has four people behind the cameras, as well as numerous others who are handling lights, sound, and all other matters on the set. It seems like there are always about fifty people running around on the set. One cameraman would be perfect for the scene in the hospital.

But there was much more to that season five finale, titled “Stand by Mia.”

Standing by a Brave Little Girl

Jase and I asked Mia what she wanted to do before her surgery. “How about a family party?” she suggested. So the invitation went out. It’s interesting when you mention to family members that they are going to be on TV—schwoom, they are there. As Willie said, “I didn’t know we had this much family.”

Mia had always heard the funny stories about Jase wrestling with his brothers and cousins growing up, particularly how cousin Amy beat up Willie, so that’s what she requested for the special entertainment. As Jase said, “It’s the ultimate redneck dinner theater.” A wrestling ring was delivered, and the warmup act was the Robertson boys clowning around, performing their best wrestling moves. Willie surprised everyone with guest professional wrestlers, including Jase’s favorite, “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan.

I felt kind of bad for them, wearing only their little wrestling pants, while the rest of us were bundled up in winter coats. Yes, it was January, but it was unusually cold in Louisiana—about twenty degrees. The wrestlers had to keep moving fast, otherwise they would have frozen to death!

At the end of the party, Mia took the stage between Jase and Willie, thanking everyone for coming and then sharing from her heart, “My favorite verse is Psalm 46:10: ‘Be still and know that I am God!’ God is bigger than all of us, and He is bigger than any of your struggles, too.” I think I can say that there was hardly a dry eye in the crowd. Going into her surgery, Mia was being brave for all of us. In the end, seeing the final version of the episode, I thought the network did a great job of including enough humor to make people laugh but also providing a tender glimpse into the love our family shares with each other and the love we all have for Mia.

When Duck Dynasty fans saw it on March 26, 2014, they agreed completely!

* * *

A few days before we left home, Mia asked me, “Do I really have to have this surgery?”

I could tell she truly wanted to know whether it was absolutely necessary, so I stopped what I was doing and looked her straight in the eye. “As much as you don’t want to have it, and as much as I don’t want you to have to have it either, you have to do this for the quality of your life to be the best it can possibly be—for the rest of your life.”

Expecting a long serious conversation about this, I waited for Mia’s response.

“Okay,” she said and darted out of the house to play.

She did not need a long conversation; she simply needed to know the truth.

Better Than I Thought

During one of our preoperative visits with Dr. Genecov, I asked him, “Remember that new procedure you mentioned to us once, the one you were working on to make the bone graft procedure easier and less painful for patients? Did you ever perfect that?”

“Oh yes,” he said, “I’ve been doing that procedure for quite some time.” I didn’t realize that this was his plan for Mia too.

The doctor would take the bone from a different part of the hip than traditionally used, resulting in less discomfort and quicker healing for Mia. What a welcomed piece of news!

“Will she still have to go to physical therapy?” I asked.

“No. Those days are over,” he said. “She will have a pain pump, like a little ball, hooked to her hip for the first three days after surgery that will dispense medication regularly. After that, Mia will still have some pain, but she should get over it quickly and be able to get up and walk around.”

I knew about the pain ball, and I was all for it! Cole had undergone shoulder surgery six months earlier, and he had used a pain ball for three days. It worked well for him, and I was glad to know Mia would have the same pain management.

Letting Her Go Again

On the day of Mia’s surgery, the waiting room was filled with people, mostly our family and friends. This surgery took place in a new building, where the waiting area was family friendly, comfortable, and spacious enough for lots of guests.

The hospital staff allowed our cameraman, whom we affectionately call Burnsey, and our entire family to visit Mia in the preoperative holding area. We had all grown to love Burnsey on the set of Duck Dynasty, and Mia felt completely at ease having him there filming the moment. She was happy and relaxed, posing for photos for us to tweet, and seemed glad to have more company than usual prior to an operation. The dose of goofy juice started working fairly quickly, and everyone filed out of the room so Jase and I could have a moment alone with her. She made some hilarious comments that kept Jase and me laughing.

One of the effects of the goofy juice was slurred speech, and after numerous attempts of trying to figure out exactly what she was trying to say, we gave up. When Dr. Genecov came in to prep us on the surgery, our focus turned to him. Suddenly, realizing we were ignoring her, Mia hollered out in her drunken-like state, “I have a demand!”

“What do you need?” I said.

“I need to brush my teeth.” That said, she conked out for a few minutes more.

As I’ve mentioned, the hardest moment for me during any surgery is saying good-bye to Mia before they take her back to the operating room. I had been through it a few times now, but never with such a big crowd and never on camera. The day of the biggie, Mia was groggy but still awake. Surrounded by Burnsey and all of our family, Jase and I both leaned down, kissed her, and said good-bye. As they started to wheel her away, Mia suddenly asked, “Am I going back now?”

I panicked, startled by her unexpected moment of clarity. I did not know how long she would be awake or how she might handle being alone in an unfamiliar place with a lot of strangers around her. Trying to be reassuring, I said as calmly as possible, “Yes, you are. I love you!”

“I love you too,” Mia said to Jase and me.

This was the first time any of our family members had been able to watch this process up close. Most of them with tears in their eyes, they all started telling her, “Bye, Mia.” “We love you, Mia.” “You’re going to do great.” It was one of the sweetest moments in my memory but also one of the most emotional. Quietly, we all headed to the waiting area.

Within a few minutes, a member of the medical staff came from the operating room and told me Mia was fine and didn’t express any fear before she went to sleep. That, of course, was very comforting to hear.

During the operation, we were surrounded with activity and support. Some people simply sat with us, relaxing and talking, while others offered to get us something to eat or attend to any other needs we had. Miss Kay sat on the floor playing games with Mia’s cousins. A few fans and a couple of nurses recognized our family and stopped to say hello and give us an encouraging word.

For some reason, this procedure seemed to go much more quickly than Mia’s other surgeries. Maybe this was because all of our family and friends were doing a great job at keeping us occupied, or maybe it was because I had expected the biggie to be a more drawn-out procedure. Whatever the reason, I was thankful.

When Dr. Genecov came out and told us the surgery was “textbook, no complications at all, nothing unexpected,” we were relieved and grateful. We all joined hands, and Alan led us in a prayer of thanksgiving to our almighty Creator.

I assumed Mia’s face would be swollen, as it had been after previous operations, so I prepared myself. Because of what we expected to see, we had asked Burnsey not to film Mia after the procedure.

Before Jase and I were allowed into the recovery room, Burnsey came up to me and said, “Missy, I just saw her. She looks amazing!”

Wait! How did Burnsey see Mia before Jase and I did? It turns out that he had left some of his paperwork in one of the rooms not far from the recovery area. When he went to get it, he just happened to catch a glimpse of her. I knew Burnsey’s excitement for Mia’s well-being was completely genuine—he loved our family and especially Mia.

Custom Made for Mia

One of my best friends is LinDee Loveland, who is a Bible teacher at OCS and the children’s minister at our church. She and another friend and teacher, Mrs. Rita, were there at the hospital with us. As soon as they heard that everything had gone well, the two of them gathered all of Mia’s cousins together.

“Missy, what’s Mia’s room number?” LinDee asked.

I rattled it off, then quickly caught up with Jase, who was heading to the recovery room.

We spent an hour in the recovery room with Mia, and when she was ready to be moved to her regular hospital room, Jase and I walked beside her gurney. When we walked into her room, I burst into tears. Mia’s room was beautiful!

Several weeks before Mia’s scheduled surgery, Mrs. LinDee had asked the children at church to make snowflakes that would be given to a child who needed some encouragement. Mia even made one herself and signed it. “Each individual snowflake is special, and no two are alike,” Mrs. LinDee told them. “It’s the same way with us,” she shared. “No two people are alike. God makes everyone unique and special, with a purpose designed to glorify Him.”

Later, when Mia wasn’t there, she asked all the children to make cards for Mia. When LinDee and the cousins scooted out of the waiting room, they went straight to Mia’s room and hung up the cards and the snowflakes all over her room. Mia was awake by the time she got back to her room, and when she saw the decorations, she literally oohed and ahhed.

Dr. Sperry and Dr. Genecov both made the same comment when they visited Mia later. “I’ve never seen a room like this! This is the most decorated room that’s ever been in this hospital!”

And Dr. Sperry summed it up beautifully, “Wow, somebody must really love you.”

Having a room decorated means so much to a child—and maybe even more to a child’s parents. The fact that so many of Mia’s friends had created such exquisite, handmade snowflakes and worked so hard to make cards for her, and that Mrs. LinDee, Mrs. Rita, and all the cousins surprised us with the final display, spoke volumes to me about the way people loved Mia and our family. That expression of creativity was not only beautiful, it also touched my heart deeply.

Post-Op Realities

For the next several hours, family and friends stopped by Mia’s room to wish her well and check on us before they headed home. Everyone told her they loved her and were proud of her, and they kissed her on their way out the door. Once they had gone, only Jase and I, Reed and Cole, my parents, and Bonny were left, and we were tired but thankful after a long day.

That afternoon I noticed swelling on the right side of Mia’s face, where her complete cleft is. Swelling in that area was not unusual after surgery, but it was still hard to look at. The swelling continued from Friday to Monday, to the point that Mia could not even open her right eye. She looked like someone had punched her! At one point Mia looked at me and moaned, “My life is miserable.”

That was a tough statement to hear from my child, and my heart ached for her. As much as I wished with all my might that I could snap my fingers and instantly heal her, I couldn’t. However, she needed some hope from me.

Holding back my own tears, I said, “I know you feel miserable right now, but you are going to get past this part. And when you do, your life is going to be much better than you ever could have expected it to be.”

I knew that her hip wasn’t bothering her very much because of the pain ball, but her mouth was beginning to hurt as the anesthesia wore off and the swelling began. On top of those things—and this is a big deal for Mia—she knew she could not have anything she wanted to eat. Being hungry and thirsty probably contributed as much to her misery as the effects of the surgery.

Mia’s favorite drink is Dr. Pepper. As soon as the nurse told us she could have something other than clear liquids, we had a Dr. Pepper ready for her. She took two sips, grimaced through her pain, then said, “This tastes horrible!” For two days, she wouldn’t even touch it.

The hospital stay was difficult but bearable. It was hard for Mia because of her discomfort and because nothing tasted good to her. It was hard for the rest of us because we could tell how unhappy she was, how much pain she was in, and how much she was struggling. However, by the next day, she had made known to everyone that she was ready to go home.

Mia Puts Her Foot Down

As we were getting Mia’s things ready for her discharge, her nurse started to excuse herself to get a wheelchair to transport Mia to the car. Instantly, Mia said, “I’m not riding in a wheelchair.”

“Yes, you are, Mia. It’s a hospital regulation,” I said, believing that was true.

“Mom,” she protested, “They said I’m supposed to walk as much as possible. I’m walking to the car.”

I saw a certain look in Mia’s eyes as she made this announcement, the look that says “I am going to push hard for this.” I knew she was determined, and I would fight a losing battle to try to talk her out of it.

“I’m walking out of here,” she said again.

I guess the medical staff noticed that look too because they allowed her to try to walk, with a nurse close beside her. Seeing that little girl limp her way down the hall, holding Reed’s hand, was one of the proudest moments of my life. I was absolutely amazed by her spunk and determination. I grabbed my cell phone from my purse and snapped a picture.

She is such a fighter, I thought as Jase and I followed her. Visually, she looked roughed up, as though she had been through about fifteen rounds in a boxing match. But in that moment, she showed a level of toughness and resilience I have never seen in a child.

Remembering the information we were told on that first visit to ICI when Mia was seventeen days old, that she would need physical therapy to help her walk again after this surgery, I thanked God as I watched our daughter walk right out of the hospital twenty-four hours postoperation!

When we got into the car, Jase asked Mia, “Well, what do you think about that?”

“I’m a little tired, but I made it,” she replied. Indeed she did.

Continued Recovery

Once we returned home, I did not think Mia would be back to her old self for a couple of weeks, but she bounced back more quickly than I expected. Her surgery was on Friday, she was released on Saturday, and by the following Monday she started asking when she could go back to school. I knew that was a good sign, but I also knew she was nowhere near ready. After all, we were in the middle of winter (flu season), and she had just come off of a pain ball. It’s going to be a while, I thought.

The Wednesday of that week was no different from other Wednesdays in our household. Each week since Reed’s freshman year in high school, Jase and I had cooked dinner for a few of his fellow football teammates after practice. At first the group included just a few guys, but within a couple of years it grew to include cheerleaders and other friends as well. We fed them well and then took them all to church with us. It had become a regular event that we all enjoyed.

The Wednesday after Mia’s surgery, she asked, “Are the teenagers coming tonight?”

“Yes,” I told her. By that time, Jase and I had been through ten years of Mia’s condition and surgeries. We were committed to doing everything we could do for her, but also for the boys, even when Mia was in recovery, because we wanted them to know that the things that were important to them were important to us too. We knew they had to make certain sacrifices and adjustments because of Mia’s needs, but we were determined from the beginning to minimize them and not to allow one special needs child to wield excessive or undue influence over the other members of the family. So even though we were less than a week out from Mia’s surgery, we weren’t going to disrupt our regular dinner with Reed’s friends.

“I’d better go get ready!” Mia exclaimed, heading upstairs to her room. When she returned, she was wearing the dress she had received for Christmas, and she had done her hair. Her face was still swollen, but it was becoming less noticeable.

By the end of that week, Mia was begging to go back to school. Ten days after her surgery, I allowed her to go two half days to see how she did with her eating. She proved to me that she could handle it, so the next week she started back full time.

Mia knew that when she went back to school that she would not be able to participate in recess or PE. “That’s fine,” she said. “I’ll just read.”

The limitations on Mia’s physical activity at school applied at home too. She could not run, ride a bicycle, or jump on the trampoline with Bella. She also had to skip gymnastics class each week, but she was able to continue her piano lessons. As a budding musician, this was very important to her.

Generally speaking, Mia’s attitude throughout her recovery was phenomenal, but she was especially sad about the restriction with the trampoline. Once again, Bella came through in an amazing gesture of solidarity. She offered to stop jumping on the trampoline until Mia was given the go-ahead from the doctor. The trampoline is visible from our house, so anytime Bella jumps on it, Mia can see her and usually runs over to join her. Bella assured Mia that they would find something else fun to do. Her cousin’s show of support meant a lot to Mia and made that aspect of her recovery much easier.

One activity the two of them enjoyed was playing with some of the gifts Mia received from people all over the country. Jase and I couldn’t believe everyone’s generosity and caring concern for our child. Like other people in the entertainment industry, we hear a lot from our fans. For someone to take time to send a gift or a card to Mia—well, we viewed each of those people as way more than a fan. This was not about people who simply enjoyed our television show; it revealed to us that our family had become meaningful to countless other families—and that was very special to us.

Three months is a long time for anyone to recover from surgery. You might think the biggest challenge of this recovery was keeping an active child from participating in all of her normal activities. That would be wrong. The biggest challenge of her recovery was an altogether different kind of battle, one that I was not sure we were going to conquer.