Oh, Baby!

It’s been awhile since my last post. I’ve been a little busy. Exactly one week ago, I found myself going into labor almost 5 weeks early. It figures. When it comes to me and babies, nothing ever goes according to plan.

Last Monday I knew the time had come to go to the hospital. Ok, my husband practically had to drag me there. I was so torn between the baby’s well being and mine. I was only 35 weeks and 4 days. I knew that I was far enough along not to have to worry about my son’s survival. But nevertheless, he would still be several weeks premature. I didn’t know what that would mean. And it scared me. I also knew that with my tangled mess of a medical history when it comes to pregnancy, that my doctor would most likely deliver him at the first sign of trouble. I almost didn’t survive the last labor experience. Uterine rupture, hemorrhaging, blood transfusions. It was bad. Very bad.

Soon after we got to the hospital, the nurse strapped me to the contraction machine. As I watched the hills and valleys on my chart, it was obvious that my fantasy of being sent back home wasn’t going to happen. She leaves to call my ob/gyn, comes back within minutes and says “Are you ready to have a baby today? Your doctor will be here within the hour!”

Our baby was a small 5 pounds 3 ounces, but perfect. A head full of hair and absolutely beautiful. And by the immediate screams, I could tell his lungs were in good shape. But because of his early birth, he was taken to the NICU for a minimum 24 hour observation. Some babies at 35 weeks do well and are free to go right after that. Some need a bit more time to develop. Especially boys. After the first day was over, my husband and I learned that he would not be joining me in my room anytime soon. He needed oxygen. A feeding tube. He was forgetting to breathe. At one point, his heart rate dropped low enough to trigger an automatic 5 day extension to his NICU stay.

This must be some cosmic joke. This was not the baby that was supposed to be premature! It was my oldest son. He was the one they said would be premature and in the NICU. But after all the fright and close calls he gave us, he showed everyone and stayed put until I was 38 and a half weeks. But this pregnancy was supposed to be different. Everything was going so smoothly. I told my husband how wonderful it was to have a peaceful pregnancy this time. I was going to have this baby at full term with no issues and happily go home with my newborn. But like I said, me + pregnancy = drama city.

For the next four days after delivery, I rolled, limped, and waddled back and forth between my hospital room and the NICU. I was hurting physically (from yet another wonderful C-section), emotionally, spiritually. Every which way you could hurt. I’d go back to my room without the baby and just break down.

My husband would look into my watery, puffy eyes with bags underneath from not sleeping and tell me how beautiful I was. But I’m doing the “ugly cry!” How can I be beautiful doing the “ugly cry?”  I truly don’t know how I’d get through half the things we’ve been through without this man. I am lucky to call him not only my husband, but my lifeline, my rock and my friend. He often says that he thinks all the things we’ve been through have been tests. Tests of faith? Courage? I don’t know. But if this is God’s way of testing us, I’m about ready to withdraw from class and take the F please. But even as my resolve wavers, we will get through this as a family stronger than ever.

And here we are one week later. I’ve gone home from the hospital and still visiting my boy everyday in the NICU. He has had his setbacks and is still struggling to feed consistently. But he is getting stronger everyday and is also having his victories. We hope to have him home by the end of the week barring anymore issues. But if not, I know that he is in good hands and where he needs to be. And of course it could be worse. He’s not like the 29 weeker next to us that will be there much longer than he will. But when it’s your flesh and blood, you will still worry, stress and have sleepless nights all the same. He’s my little, precious, miracle and I want him home with me. I won’t even complain when he keeps me up all night. That’s a lie, but I’d like to think it’s true.

So, we wait and take it day by day. Oh and all that worry I had about having enough love, time and attention to give all 3 kids? Well, I’m pretty sure I have enough love to smother all of them miserably until they are absolutely sick of me. I can’t wait!