Happy Birthday!

I have a one-year-old.

My little 2lb 8oz baby turned one today. He now weighs 18.5 lbs, which puts him nearly on the growth chart for his actual age. He's grown from 15 inches long to about 27.5. Again, just starting to graze the bottom of the growth chart.

Whenever I describe his age to people, I always do the mental math by saying he was born 3 months early. It was actually a little more than that - 3 months and 5 days early. When I look at his ticker today for his adjusted age, it reads "8 months 3 weeks and 5 days."

Wow. Looking at it that way really highlights how early he really was.

As you'd imagine, today has been a crazy mix of emotions. Like all moms, I'm happy to be celebrating the first birthday of my son. I'm sad and nostalgic that he's growing up. I'm proud of how much he's grown.

There's so much more than that, though. All of my emotions just seem so much stronger than most parents' on their child's first birthday.

I feel like I'm turning a page. It's the same relieved feeling I had when we brought our son home from the NICU. We made it. We survived. HE survived. A whole year. And he's a thriving, happy ball of energy. What a relief. Now, we can concentrate on enjoying things more. It'll get easier from here...right?

And I'm so unbelievably proud of how hard my son fought to get here. I've heard people talk about their hearts swelling with love, but I never understood that until I became a mommy. It's like I can feel my heart grow. And it's magnified today. If we would have lost him in the beginning, I know we would have been devastated. Only now, after falling in love with my baby, do I truly understand what I would have missed out on if my son didn't make it. I didn't have enough capacity to love him enough until many month later, and it's only in hindsight that I'm able to grasp the all-encompassing love I would have missed if my son didn't come home with us. It physically hurts just to think about it that way. Luckily, my son was a fighter from the beginning. Rolled with the punches. "I'm showing up early? Cool. Have to live in a strange hospital in a strange city in a strange state? No problem." He's weathered the storm better than anyone, and we're so lucky to have an amazing son who likely won't have any long-term effects of his early birth.

I'm proud of us. My husband and I. We've been to hell and back in 2011, and we're closing the door on that. All three of us were admitted to the hospital at least once in 2011. We've had health scares and spent a dizzying amount of money, but we're here. And we'll be stronger for it. Better for it. I look back on who we were before our son was born, and I don't even recognize us. Everyone changes when they have a baby, but not like this. Not like this.

But not all the changes are good. All the memories came flooding back over the past few weeks, and they were especially strong today. Sometimes, it's images of labor & delivery or the NICU. They pop in out of nowhere, triggered by all sorts of things. The weather that takes me back to the snowy day of my son's birth. The Super Bowl advertisements that drag me back to that pumping room and the tiny individual TV where I stared at that game without knowing the score. My MacBook dictionary screen saver that has "gavage" as its word of the day. Really? Why today of all days? That stupid stupid wonderfully produced Pampers commercial about Every Little Miracle. It shows that tiny baby born 3 months early and it has that beeping. That NICU beeping. Beep...beep...beep... It took me months to not hear those beeps every time the microwave finished cooking or a truck backed up or my alarm clock went off, and that commercial takes me back. Every time. And it's been harder to push those images out as his birthday got closer.

It's not always memories, but sometimes it's feelings. I've been feeling anxious the past few weeks, and it got worse last night. I couldn't sleep. I was too lost in my thoughts until way past 2 am. I never had anxiety before the NICU, and now, every time I feel anxious, I think of the NICU. Or labor & delivery. Anxiety will forever be tied to those experiences, and I've been fighting against the flashbacks every time I've felt anxious over the past few weeks. Even when I get anxious about work or any other normal thing...BAM!...Back at the NICU. Or in labor & delivery. It's frustrating. I'm frustrated that I still struggle with these feelings. I know I'll never be the same, and I grieve the person I used to be. Sometimes, I wish I could be just a little more naive again.

On balance, I'm glad today is over. I'm terribly sad that my little baby is growing up, and I'm so happy to celebrate his birthday with him. But, mostly, I feel relief. Relief that this year is over, relief that my son is doing so well, and relief that we get to put some of the most difficult parts of this battle behind us.

I love you Captain Stinkerpants. Thank you for being the Best Baby Ever.

Coming up on a year

My son turn a year old next week. I have such mixed feelings about it. I'm happy and proud, but obviously sad that my little baby is growing up. And I'm really worried that his birthday is going to trigger even more memories. The flashbacks had gone away for awhile, but I'm worried they're coming back. The memories are coming back.

Maybe it's the weather, too. It was snowy when my son was born. In fact, there had been several snow storms right around his birthday. Shortly after he was born, I remember looking at my Blackberry to see e-mails from my company telling everyone to stay home due to the bad weather. We got another of those e-mails today. And it brought back the memories again.

It doesn't help that I'm stressed at work. I think the memories are stronger when I'm worried or sad or angry. Feeling bad emotions just takes me back to labor & delivery and the NICU.

I'm frustrated. I just want my head to be screwed on straight.

The memories come from everywhere

A couple of days ago, I was at my company cafeteria grabbing lunch. They have a cooler that they use to display yogurt, pudding and other cold items. Suddenly, I flashed back to the hospital where our son was in the NICU. They had a very similar cooler, and the food containers must have been similar.

Sometimes, it's the smallest things.

The other day, I remember that a labor & delivery nurse complimented me on my engagement ring. I have no idea what triggered that memory.

I wonder if these flashbacks will ever totally go away.

Always a preemie parent

When my son was in the NICU, I saved all of the e-mails people sent us. I knew that I'd want them eventually, and I plan to someday print them out for his "memory box" (I'm not nearly crafty enough for any sort of scrapbook or anything).

I was going through some of the e-mails again yesterday, and it brought back a bunch of feelings again. Many were positive. We got SO much support from so many people when our son was in the NICU. Some were neutral. I can remember the day-to-day grind of being in the NICU. Just waiting for each day to be over. Counting down the hours until the end of the day. Counting down the days until the end of the week. Counting down the weeks until the end of the month.

Seeing all the support we got from everyone made me feel a little guilty, too. There were so many people who were very supportive, but we (I) haven't really done a good job of keeping in touch with them. I sort of blame the prematurity for that, too. First, our son wasn't allowed to be around people for several weeks. Then, I was in a pretty bad mental place for several months, and I just wanted to be left alone. Now, our son is quarantined again for flu season.

Beyond that, though, I just can't get the mental energy to do those sorts of social things. I was never exactly a social butterfly before, and, now, I just can't do it. I don't want to be away from my son. I'm sure that's pretty typical of all parents (especially first-time parents), but I think it's more acute with me. I know how precious this time is, and I just can't tear myself away from it.

Even when everyone else has forgotten how early our son was born, it'll still be with me. Looking back, I feel like a completely different person than I was before my son was born. Everyone changes when they have a baby, but I feel like the way I've changed is just different. Watching your child struggle to survive completely changes who you are in all aspects of your life.

New year reflections

2011 was the worst year of my life. It was the best year of my life in that I got my son, but, in some ways, that's unfortunately overshadowed by how he got here. I will never be the same person I was before my son was born. Everyone changes when they have a child, but I'm scarred in a way that most people aren't.

It frustrates me when people say things like, "Oh, he's so healthy now!" The implication is that I should be over it. Yes, I'm incredibly fortunate that my son is doing so well. Yeah, but... I'm still not over it.

I feel like it's always "Yeah, but..."

It's been almost a year since he was born. Yeah, but I'm not over it.

He had a very easy NICU stay. Yeah, but I'm not over it.

He almost certainly won't have any long-term problems. Yeah, but I'm not over it.

I never will be. I still think about his birth or the NICU experience every single day.

Like, today, I remember that the labor & delivery nurse complimented me on my engagement ring. It's like so many things in my life get turned back to the NICU. Has it gotten better?

Yeah, but I'm not over it.

Maybe baby? Or maybe not

My husband and I have always wanted at least two kids. Maybe three. And, we wanted them to be 2-3 years apart. As my son approaches his first birthday, the reality that we'll have to start planning for our next baby relatively soon is starting to hit me, and I have a lot of mixed feelings on it.

On the one hand, I sometimes feel like I'm ready for another baby. My son is getting more and more active, and he's certainly not a tiny baby anymore.

On the other hand, I worry a lot that I'm just trying to have a "do over" of my first pregnancy. I never had a third trimester, and I worry that I'm just anxious to have another shot at pregnancy. We never had those exciting moments where we were wondering "is this really it?" with labor. Hell, my husband wasn't even there when my son was born. I was actually looking forward to my unmedicated birth with my doula. While I knew that not everything would go as planned, absolutely NOTHING went as planned.

And I missed out on having a newborn. I never got wheeled out of the hospital with balloons and a baby in my lap. I have no idea how to take care of an umbilical cord. We never had our baby sleeping in our room because he was getting up every two hours (our son slept in his own crib right from the beginning).

There's also no guarantee that we wouldn't have another preemie. No one knows why my son was born so early. While I'd be monitored closely and would get progesterone shots, I could still end up with another preemie. Or worse.

Beyond all that, I'm just not sure I'm mentally in the right place for another pregnancy. I've been wanting to watch "The Business of Being Born" for quite awhile. I was all set to download it tonight, but, after reading the online synopsis, I just couldn't do it. Just reading a little about the births that are in the movie was enough to set off my anxiety again. I never had anxiety until after my son's birth, and, now, I just can't quite seem to shake it.

I guess I still have a few more months before I need to worry about another baby. I mean, we'd probably want to get a HOUSE, so there are plenty of other challenges to overcome. Sometimes, I just don't feel that I have a path to get there, though. I've been seeing a counselor for months, but I'm not sure she can help.

How do I go from where I am now to someone who's ready to become a mom again?

Early NICU memories

My memories of the NICU are so different than the L&D memories. I remember very very little from the first few days in the NICU. Having a baby born as early as mine was means you are in no way guaranteed a take-home baby. We were extremely lucky, though. Our son did awesome from the very beginning. I was even asked several times if my due date (and thus his gestational age) could have been wrong. He was so large (2lb 8oz at 26w3d) and did so well that it was hard for the staff to believe that he really was a 26 weeker. I am 100% confident of the conception date, though. We were charting, and our due date was confirmed with a dating ultrasound.

There are some horrific things that happened in those first few days, though. And some other things that I'd forgotten about that weren't necessarily horrific, but were somewhat noteworthy. Just sitting down to write this post brought back so many memories, including:

- My husband asked one of the neonatologists what our son's chances of survival were. He said "70%." When my husband heard that, he of course thought, "My son has a 30% chance of dying." He was extremely upset about this answer, as you'd imagine. Later, the neonatologist spoke with me when my husband wasn't there. I think the doctor felt bad that he upset my husband so much. He said to me, "I told your husband that your son has a 70% chance of survival, which I thought was good news. He didn't take it that way, though. What I meant was that, at 26 weeks, the odds start to tip in the baby's favor." I just nodded, I think. I knew the statistics already, since I have a friend who lost a 24 weeker. And I knew what we were in for, at a high level anyway. I was just taking things a half day at a time during those first few days.

- We asked one of the nurses a few days after our son was born if we could start referring to "when" our son came home rather than "if." She said no, meaning we weren't out of the woods. I never forgave her for that, although I know she was just trying to be realistic. After she said that, my blood would boil every time I saw her.

- On a related note, I do remember the first nurse who told us we could start referring to "when" our son came home. Her name is Trish. She was also the nurse that let me hold my son for the first time.

- I remember when I held my son for the first time, and I thought it was going to be an amazing emotional experience. It wasn't. I was so numb and drained that I didn't feel much. In fact, it took MONTHS before I could tell my son "I love you" and felt like I really meant it. I was protecting myself in case we lost him, I think. My husband, on the other hand, cried the first time he held our son. He fell head over heels in love right away.

- We were staying in a hotel near the hospital for the first few days (before we found our extended stay place). My milk came in while we were there, and I remember how painful it was to sleep on my stomach. And I had these miserable hot flashes where I was just painfully hot and cold at the same time. I was sweating, but I couldn't let the cold air touch me because it was physically painful. It made getting up to pump absolutely terrible. And I was pumping every 3 hours around the clock at that point.

- Thinking back now, I have no recollection of where I stored the pumped milk during those first few days. I must have had a cooler or a refrigerator, but I really don't remember.

- I had no clothes during those first few days. I only had enough clothes with me for 2 nights, I believe. Nearly all of them were work clothes - maternity clothes. I had a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a sports bra that I wore to the gym earlier in the day when my son was born. I must have worn those clothes for several days in a row. I had no nursing bras or tank tops. We had to go to Target very early on to buy me a bunch of clothes to hold me over until my parents could bring down more clothes for me. I remember walking around Target talking on the phone to a friend of mine who had called to see how I was doing. I grabbed some yoga pants and a couple of zip up sweatshirts. And nursing tank tops and socks. And underwear. I couldn't even wash anything before I wore it.

- I remember calling the OB back home to tell her that I'd had my baby. My son was born on a Tuesday, and, the prior Friday, I'd called the OB to ask what symptoms I could look for if my water was leaking. She said that I would notice because I'd have fluid running down my leg. She wasn't concerned, and, being a first time mom, I wasn't too concerned either. To this day, I wonder if my amniotic fluid was leaking for a few days and that was why I went into labor. My water had broken by the time they checked me for the first time, after all. I had also called the OB the night of my son's birth because I had some spotting. She agreed that I should go to L&D, but she (like my husband and me) thought it was probably no big deal. Anyway, I called her after my son was born, and it was the strangest conversation. "Hi, remember how we talked on the phone last night about how I was spotting? Well, I had my baby last night." She was obviously concerned, but you could tell she didn't know what to say. I had been seeing the midwives in the practice, and one of the midwives called me a couple days later, too. She was SO concerned, and I remember the concern in her voice. I don't blame the OB in any way for anything, though - she was making the best decision with the information she had.

- We got so many e-mails, texts, and phone calls those first few days. My husband and I would just sit outside the hospital cafeteria and read them. And cry. It was amazing how much support we got.

There are so many more memories, but I've blocked out so much from those first few days. I feel a need to go back and revisit it here on this blog to help me process things and to be sure those memories aren't lost forever.

Labor & Delivery memories

Labor and delivery for my son was traumatic. Scary. Awful. My husband wasn't there. I delivered him in a strange city, and I didn't know whether he was going to live. I had no idea whether I'd get a take-home baby out of the ordeal. I was diagnosed with PTSD following my son's birth, which is hardly surprising. I've been seeing a counselor for it, which has really helped. There are still lingering things, though, which is a big reason I've restarted this blog. I need a place to get my thoughts down.

One of the things that happened during the L&D experience is that I blocked out a lot of unpleasant memories. It wasn't until much later that many of them came back, and they often came back for random reasons. For example:

- I'd forgotten that I got oxygen during labor. The OB was concerned about my son's heart rate. I remember they were having trouble finding it, but I think that was because of his position and small size. I guess his heart rate must have been decelerating, because they gave me oxygen.

- The expression on the OB's face will always stick with me. She just felt so SAD for me. I can remember that. She said to me early on, "At 4cm dilated with a bulging bag of waters, you may not have this baby now. You'll be on bedrest for a long time, though." That obviously turned out not to happen. But I could tell that she just felt awful for me.

- I hadn't taken any birth classes yet, but I had read at one point that pushing was supposed to feel like going to the bathroom. When they told me I needed to get my baby out quickly, that thought came back to me, and he came out with only a few pushes.

- I will never forget thinking, "they're letting me hold my baby in case he dies." I knew that was why they gave him to me. I remember how warm he felt. And so tiny. So so tiny. And I remember thinking, "Why are we wasting time letting me hold him? He needs to be put in an incubator! I'm just being selfish holding him now!"

- I got a big bag of IV fluid after delivery. This memory just came back to me a couple of days ago when I started thinking about how many interventions I'd had during delivery. My OB broke my water and I had an episiotomy. I didn't have any pain medicine, though. Logically, I'm happy with the birth, given the circumstances. Even in the trauma of everything, I never felt pressured for anything. My son needed to be born quickly, given his small size. That was all explained to me. I consented to having my water broken and again to the episiotomy. Even my views on pain medication were respected, which is pretty remarkable given that I gave birth in a hospital I'd never been to with an OB I'd never met.

- I got pitocin following the birth of my son (but not during the birth). I may have been bleeding a lot, and that's why they gave it to me. I don't really remember, though. I remember the contractions with the pitocin after my son's birth were significantly more uncomfortable than the ones during labor. Weird, eh?

- I have no recollection of anything that happened after the first few minutes of my son's life. I remember they got him intubated on a warming bed, and I can still see the vision of the neonatologist working frantically on him. And I can remember the bed beeping. A long steady tone - like the kind you see on TV when someone dies and their heart monitor just shows that steady line. After the first few minutes of watching the doctor work on my son, I don't remember anything else until much later. I was in the recovery room the next time I have memories. I have no idea how I got there.

- I remember how alone I felt in the recovery room. I wanted someone to come in and talk to me. There was a nurse named Rachel (ironic, eh) who kept coming in to talk to me. I wanted her to stay the whole time, but she obviously couldn't. I just didn't want to be alone.

- I asked for a breast pump right away, and, at the time, I was proud of myself for having the foresight to ask for one. I felt so clumsy with it, though - I had no idea what I was doing. The nurse helped me, and I thought she was a bit condescending about it. Not necessarily mean, but she couldn't figure out how I couldn't figure out how to use the pump. It made me want to cry. I remember how happy the nurse was that I got colostrum the first time I pumped. I was surprised that she was surprised. It wasn't until much later that I learned that many many preemie moms have major issues with milk supply / pumping, etc.

- I walked from the recovery room to the NICU where my son was being stabilized (he was going to be transfered, but I got to see him before he left). Everyone kept asking if I wanted a wheelchair. I was genuinely confused as to why. What was supposed to hurt? I didn't hurt anywhere. Was it adrenaline? Maybe.

- The neonatologist who was there for my son's birth came and saw me a few hours later. She told me everything that was going on, and I said to her, "I have a friend who lost a 24 weeker after 8 days. I know I can expect a honeymoon period where everything goes well for a few days, and then things may start to go south." I was so pragmatic about it, but what other choice did I have?

I'm sure more memories will come to me, but that exhausts them for now. It's so hard going back to that time, but I feel like I need to. I'm still not right in the head, and I don't know if I ever will be. Going through the memories helps me to process things, though...

Baby's birth story

My pregnancy had been quite uneventful, and I'd considered myself to be quite lucky to have had a relatively easy time of it. Then, on January 25, 2011, while out to dinner on a business trip 300 miles from home, I started feeling sharp pain in my hips. I wrote it off as relatively common round ligament pain. When I got back to my hotel, I even filled up the bathtub, thinking that everything would be better after a warm bath. Then, I noticed that I had just a tiny bit of spotting. I decided to drive myself to the hospital to get things checked out. I called my OB back home and my husband – we all agreed that I’d probably be monitored for awhile and sent home with instructions to take it easy for awhile.

I got to the hospital at about 9:30 at night. By that point, I knew something was wrong. I told the admitting nurse, “I think I’m having contractions,” and they wheeled me over to L&D. At first, everyone in L&D seemed to think that what I was experiencing was no big deal. Probably just Braxton Hicks contractions. Then, at about 10pm, they did a cervical check. I was 4cm dilated and my bag of waters was bulging. I remember the OB saying, “at 4cm dilated with a bulging bag of waters, you could still hold out for awhile. You’ll be on bedrest for a long time though.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.

A ferning test soon revealed that my water had broken, and, 15 minutes later, I was 6cm dilated. I barely had time to call my husband to tell him to start the 5 hour drive from our house to the hospital before I was wheeled into the delivery room. I remember asking, “Am I going to have a c-section?” and the OB replied, “No. If you were going to have a c-section, we’d be wheeling you into the operating room.” I remember thinking to myself at this point: WTF? I’ve never been to this hospital before! How am I supposed to know the difference between the ceiling of the delivery room and the ceiling of the operating room? That’s all I’m looking at at this point... It’s amazing the stuff that was going through my head during this whole process. I was extremely lucky that my son had been head down for weeks (he had been kicking me in my ribs for awhile). I didn’t automatically have to have a c-section.

It starts to get hazy at this point, but I can remember the OB asking me what my plan for pain was. I said, “I’d hoped to have an unmedicated birth,” and the L&D nurse said from somewhere behind my head, “At this point, I think she can handle it!” I had to be 8cm dilated or more by that point. I started shaking, and I asked the nurse if I was in transition, and she replied, “That could be it.”

I was at a smaller (but still very good) hospital, so there wasn’t a full-time neonatologist there. They had one on call, and I remember being told several times that she was “10 minutes away.” At the time, I remember thinking that they were lying to me. I knew they were trying to keep me calm. But, regardless, I had to hold out to deliver my son until the neonatologist arrived. I HAD TO.

I didn’t remember it until weeks later, but, at some point during this whole process, they started to get worried about my baby’s heartbeat. His heartbeat had always been hard to find, but it was dropping when I would have a contraction. They gave me an oxygen mask, and then there was talk of me needing to deliver him as quickly as possible.

It must have been after they gave me oxygen that the OB broke my water. The first time only resulted in a little gush of fluid, and then the second attempt ended up with amniotic fluid everywhere. I was surprised then how much fluid there was. After she broke my water, things slowed down. My contractions slowed way down during transition. Logically, I knew that was somewhat expected, but, at the time, I thought She just broke my water! Now I have to deliver! But my contractions are gone! What if this was all a false alarm and she could have stopped my labor? Now I have no choice! Nothing could have been done to stop the labor, but it certainly crossed my mind at that point.

I have no idea if I was 10cm dilated or not when I started pushing. I don’t ever remember having the “urge to push” that you hear about. It was never a physical thing – it was a mental thing. I NEEDED to get my baby out. The OB told me that we were in a rush to get him out, so that became my obsession. I pushed a couple of times. Then, the OB asked if it was okay to give me an episiotomy because it would help get him out faster, and I consented. I hadn’t wanted an episiotomy (it was even on my birth plan that I didn’t want one, as if that mattered at this point), but everything changed when I was having my son. Luckily, I never had any complications from it, and it healed fine.

After just a few pushes (I have no idea how many. 5?), my son (Z) was born. He let out a little wail before the medical team descended on him to stabilize his breathing and get him started on the ventilator. The neonatologist had arrived by this point, so she worked hard to stabilize him. He was on a warming bed, and I could see her working frantically from the other side of the room. The bed was beeping a loud solid tone, and the nurse kept saying to me, “It’s okay, that’s just the bed. It’s okay, that’s just the bed. That’s totally normal.” I vaguely remember delivering the placenta and the OB stitching me up.

They brought Z to me to hold briefly before they took him down to the NICU (the hospital where I delivered had a NICU where they could stabilize him, but it wasn’t equipped to have a 26-weeker stay there). I remember holding him and thinking to myself They’re letting me hold him in case he dies. What an awful thing to think, and that thought stuck with me for weeks. Still does. One of the L&D nurses had an iPhone, and she used it to take a bunch of pictures of everything – I obviously didn’t have a camera on my business trip. She took the very first pictures of my little guy. He was 2lb 8oz and 15 inches long at birth. Both of these were in the 97th percentile, and he was so big that there were some questions as to whether my due date was wrong. It wasn’t (it’d been confirmed with a dating ultrasound) - we were just very fortunate.

I have no idea how I got to the recovery room, but I got there somehow. Later, when my sister arrived (coincidentally, she lives about 2 hours from the hospital where I delivered), we were able to go to the hospitals NICU to see Z. There was a nurse holding IV lines in his umbilical cord, which seemed strange to me. I got to touch him for the very first time, but I was too numb to feel much emotion at that point. It wasn’t until MUCH MUCH later that I could say that I fell in love with my son.

While in recovery, the neonatologist came to see me. She had a little post-it note with Z's length, weight, and birth time (11:38pm). I still have it. I have no idea what she said to me, but I remember that she projected a sort of “wait and see” attitude. She wasn’t overly optimistic or pessimistic – she just said that we’d know more later. I said to her, “I have a friend who had a 24-weeker that didn’t make it. I know we’re in for a possible honeymoon period, and things might get worse after that.” She agreed. She was very caring and concerned, and I’ll never forget her.

I saw Z one more time that night. He was packed up in a transport isolette, and they wheeled him to my room so I could see him before he was transferred. I looked at him a bit, and then thought Why are they still here? They need to leave so they can get him to the good hospital. I think the transport team was surprised that I wasn’t more emotional. I was truly in shock. Later, I was diagnosed with PTSD, and the L&D experience were a big reason why.

My husband made it to the hospital at about 4am, and my parents arrived a few hours after that. My husband and I lived in a hotel for the 70 days our son was in the NICU, and we had a very uneventful all-day drive to bring him home on April 6, 2011. Our NICU stay was extremely easy for a baby born that early. He was only on the vent for a few days, then spent the rest of the time on the CPAP, high flow nasal canula, and regular canula. He had a grade 1 brain bleed that resolved on its own a few weeks later. No other issues. He had to coordinate his suck-swallow-breathe rhythm and learn to breathe on his own before we were discharged, and we never had any complications. He was sent home on oxygen with his feeds, and we discontinued that a few weeks after he got home.

Today, Z is a thriving 11-month-old. He’s learning to crawl and is an incredibly happy baby. He’s been followed closely by his pediatrician, the local NICU, and the local Early Intervention program. He’s never had any delays or required any therapy. While he isn’t completely caught up yet, he will be very soon. We’ve been incredibly fortunate.

Reviving this blog (almost a year later)

It's been almost a year since I posted on this blog. I think about it pretty frequently, though. After my baby was born 14 weeks early, I stopped posting. Things were too chaotic while my son was in the NICU. I'm not even sure if anyone reads this blog anymore, but I've revived it as a way to work through some of the lingering PTSD and other feelings I have from both the traumatic birth of my son and the NICU experience. I'm not sure if I'll be posting pictures of my son or not - we'll just see where things go. It'll be pretty tough to avoid bragging about my little guy, though. :-)

Stay tuned...

This is why we need a baby

Yes, that's a baby swing. And, yes, that's a kitten in it.



I'd say it's time for a baby, wouldn't you?

Good guess!

At the gym here in Pleasantville, there are definitely some regulars. Since I'm definitely one of the regulars, there's a group of a couple dozen people that I see there pretty frequently.

The other day at the gym, I ran into a man that I'd seen there multiple times. I'd occasionally make small talk with him, and, on that particular day, after saying, "Hi," he looked down at my belly and said, "Five and a half months!"

To which I replied, "Great memory! Wait...did I even tell you that?"

He responded, "No, you didn't tell me. I did one of my residency rotations in obstetrics."

He'd guessed how far along I was. To the day. It was crazy. My husband pointed out that it was somewhat coincidental, but still.

It makes me feel good that he didn't guess that I'm seven or eight months along, that's for sure.

25 weeks 2 days

Almost to double digits! As of today, I only have 103 days left to go in this pregnancy. Here's the picture from this week:



I'm still feeling pretty good, which makes me happy. In just the last few days, rolling over in bed has gotten a bit uncomfortable, and I'm feeling constant pressure right under my rib cage. I feel like I want to raise my hands over my head all the time - like I need to stretch out my stomach. I'm sure that feeling is only going to get worse over the coming months. It hasn't been too bad yet, though, so I shouldn't complain.

I'm still working out, still wearing heels. For some reason, those are the barometers I'm using to gauge how "normal" I am. As long as I can do those things, then I think I'm doing well.

Crossing things off the list(s)

Slowly, we're crossing things off of our "To Do Before Baby" and "To Buy Before Baby" lists, but it's still a bit overwhelming. There's a lot to do! And a lot to buy still!

From the "To Do Before Baby" list, we still have to do are finish the wills and powers of attorney that we're having drafted, and we have to get my husband life insurance. The hardest piece of those has been locating a reasonably-priced attorney for the wills and powers of attorney. The first price quote I got was outrageous, but we ended up finding another lawyer who can do it for much less. Since we don't really have much in terms of an estate (and nothing we own is complicated), we can get all of the proper documents drafted, notarized, etc. for just a few hundred dollars.

The process with the attorney has led to another thing we need to do, though: Figure out how to get my husband access to my retirement accounts in the event I'm incapacitated. If I die, they automatically go to him. If I'm in a coma, though, the situation is much more complicated. I have retirement accounts with two companies. One of these will accept a power of attorney (although they ask that you send it in to them in advance), whereas the other requires that I add my husband as a "delegate" to my account. Two very different situations that have to be managed differently.

From the "To Buy Before Baby" list, nearly everything centers around the nursery. We still need to get a dresser, and maybe a lamp or two. And some wall art. We're getting here in this category, too.

The complicating factor with the "To Buy" list is that it's nearly impossible to get everything from one place, so we're running around buying things from different websites, stores, etc. For example, the crib mattress that we already bought is not sold in Babies R Us or Target - we had to order it online. We're going to be getting the dresser from Amazon by using some of our credit card gift certificates. My health insurance covers a breast pump, and I can get it with a discount if I buy it through work. The baby wrap that I want is actually only made in New Zealand (you can read about them here), and the only place I've found to buy them here in the US is at a specific online store. If we still lived in a big city, there would likely be a specialty baby store that would sell these types of wraps (they're actually pretty well-known), but, here in Pleasantville, the best option seems to be to buy them online. I wish I could see the wrap before I buy it, but I guess I'll just have to trust that it'll be fine.

The last big thing we need to get is huge: A new car for me. I've decided on this one:



It's an Infiniti G37 sedan. My car is in great shape (it's a 2004 and has a little over 100,000 miles on it). I can't believe I've kept it this long, and I'd keep it for another 5 years if I could. Unfortunately, it's a 2-door, and a small one at that. If we really couldn't afford a new car, we'd keep it and make due. But, a new car is something I really should get. I'm trying to wait until the spring, though, because I suspect that the car I buy is going to come with summer tires. I don't want to have to buy the car AND new tires and rims at the same time - I'd rather spread the pain out a bit.

Wow, that turned into a pretty long post, and it's a little overwhelming to see all of that stuff all written out. We'll get there, though!

24 weeks (and happy V-Day!)

Today is a big milestone - 24 weeks of pregnancy. As I've mentioned before, this day is sometimes called V-Day (for "Viability Day"), because the earliest of the early micropremies CAN sometimes survive if born at this point. It isn't a certainty by any means, though. I talked about this milestone here. In the time since I wrote that post, I've learned that the little girl who I mentioned as having passed away just before 24 weeks was actually born at exactly 24 weeks of gestation. As I said, it's far from certain that a baby born this early would survive - less than 40% from the research I've done. It isn't until 27 weeks that the survival rate hits 90%, so perhaps that's a better milestone.

All that scary stuff aside, I have to remember that I haven't had any complications. My cervix looked great at my anatomy scan, and I have no reason to believe the rest of the pregnancy won't go well, too. In some ways, you HAVE to be in denial about all of the potential complications of pregnancy, or you'd psych yourself out of every having a child. Things have gone well so far, and I have to assume it's going to continue to go well.

Here's this week's picture:



I'm still feeling great. I still go to the gym five days a week, and I'm still lifting weights on four of those days. Both the midwives and the OB have said that I can continue my gym routine, so I have been (with a few modifications). I had a little bit of a rough time earlier this week, though. I don't fit in one of the glute machines anymore, so I decided to switch to lunges. It's been YEARS since I've done lunges, and I was SO SORE after doing them that first time. And, I couldn't take any Advil for it, which made it worse. I suffered through it, and I've done lunges a couple of times since. I haven't been sore again, so it just took one session of lunges for my body to get used to the new exercise.

I'm also still wearing high heels at work, which has elicited a bunch of comments. Why wouldn't I wear them still? Supposedly, your balance is thrown off during pregnancy. Anyone who knows me in real life, though, will attest to my clumsiness and complete lack of balance when I'm NOT pregnant. It hasn't really gotten worse since I've been pregnant. Besides, I have to wear boots to the office because of the snow, so I'm really only wearing them while I'm in the building. Plus, I sit at a desk all day. My pants are hemmed to the length of high heels (even my maternity pants), and I'm really really hoping I don't have to re-hem them all for flats.

All in all, things are going great!

The challenges of being a daddy

One of the things that I'm most excited about with having a baby is the chance to see my husband as a daddy. I've known from very early on in our relationship that my husband will be an AMAZING father. He has unending patience and is really willing to do all of the fun and not-so-fun parts of being a parent. In fact, he is going to be a stay-at-home dad, which is relatively common of fathers at the company where I work. While it's nowhere near as stay-at-home moms, there are plenty of dads who stay home with their kids at this company.

The part that makes me sad, though, is the total lack of support the greater society gives to dads in general, and especially to stay-at-home dads. For example:

1) Very few baby products address the needs of fathers. As an example, we were lucky enough to receive a high chair for Christmas (thanks Grandma!). On the box, there was a list of features "For Baby" and a list of features "For Mom." Why couldn't it say "For Parents"? It's like dads don't matter.

2) Dads don't get a vote in decision-making with child choices. We've decided to donate our child's cord blood to a public bank. In order to do this, you need to call the cord bank and request a collection kit. My husband called today, and THEY WOULDN'T GIVE IT TO HIM. I have to call. I'm still furious about this one.

3) When moms take care of their kids, it's parenting. When dads take care of their kids, it's "babysitting."

4) At many restaurants, there is a changing table in the women's restroom, but there isn't one in the men's restroom. In those situations, I suggested to my husband that he change the baby on one of the tables in the restaurant. His idea was to look around the restaurant for a baby with a clean diaper, and swap them.

5) When I tell people we're having a boy, one of the responses I get is "Oh, your husband must be so happy!" While it's certainly true that he's thrilled, he also would have been thrilled if it were a girl. He's just happy we're having a healthy child.

6) Dad's are regularly disinvited from playgroups. That is, if a group of moms gets together to have their kids play together, dads are discouraged from attending. In fact, they're often specifically told not to come.

I realize that I'm lucky to have such an involved husband, but I also know that he's far from the only one. Why isn't there more support out there for dads?

Unbelievable. I guess I'm just in a feminist mood this evening.

24 week appointment

I had another regularly-scheduled doctor's appointment today, and it pretty much coincided with my 24th week of pregnancy. Everything looked good. I'm measuring right on track, and baby's heart rate was about 140 bpm. My blood pressure was good, too - 110/62. I had a bunch of questions for the midwife, and she was absolutely awesome about answering them.

I've been SO happy with our decision to go with midwives for the delivery of the baby. Their attitude about birth is exactly aligned with mine - birth is NOT an emergency in nearly all cases, so there's no reason for a ton of intervention that may not be necessary. The hospital we've chosen has a great NICU if something goes wrong, but, in the highly likely situation where things progress normally, the midwives will be able to help deliver the baby.

The other crazy thing is that it's really sinking in how far along I am in this pregnancy. I've scheduled my next appointment for about 3 weeks from now, and, after that, I start going in for biweekly appointments. Why? Because I'll be in the THIRD TRIMESTER. I can't believe how fast things are going. Our new baby boy will be here in just a few months, and I feel like there are so many things to do in the meantime. Oh well - we'll get there. Everyone does.

23 weeks and 1 day!

I've been pretty lax in posting belly pictures lately. I blame the holidays. In any case, here's the latest one that was taken today - it's at 23 weeks and 1 day.



When I see that picture, my thought is, "Wow, am I really that big?" I don't feel as big as I apparently look. I'm up about 18 pounds, which is pretty much on track. I've basically come to terms with the idea that I'm going to be gaining on the high end (35 pounds) rather than the minimum of 25 pounds. That's okay. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

I'm feeling good, for the most part. I'm comfortable when I sit and comfortable when I stand, but it's starting to get a little uncomfortable to switch between the two. Standing up after sitting for awhile can be a little painful, but not too bad. I still think I've been really lucky.

I'm still going to the gym all the time (5x a week, although it was disrupted a bit because of the holidays). I'm still lifting weights, too, although I've had to make some modifications because of my belly. I actually have found that I have a lot of energy now, which I've been using to reorganize the house and get in some long workouts. I'm not sure how long this energy is going to last.

I did have a bit of a milestone yesterday. While cooking, I dropped some food. It missed my chest and landed on my belly. That's definitely new. It's the little things, I guess...

The ugliness of baby gear

Like most soon-to-be moms, I'm pretty excited to get everything ready for the arrival of our new baby (due date is now less than four months away - eek!). As I've mentioned before (here and here), we have a couple of registries for baby things, but those are as much for my own organization as they are a place for others to select baby gifts.

The trouble is that SO much of the baby stuff is just plain ugly. There are awful patterns and terrible colors. And so much brown. My husband hates brown, and I'm starting to get sick of it too.

Example #1: Nursing covers. I plan to nurse this little one, including possibly in public. They make nursing covers, but so many of them are hideous. Like this one:



That pattern is awful, and others are worse. All I really want is a plain one in some sort of non-brown color. You can get pretty colors with ugly patterns, or you can get plain ones in brown or black. Why not a plain red or blue one? Yes, I could just use a shawl, but the nursing covers have some nice functionality (the neck strap and special shape of them is nice).

Example #2: Car seats. I get that people try to be gender-neutral, but this one is awful. We picked out a car seat (obviously), but even the best-looking ones still aren't that great looking. Why do they all have to have dopey patterns?



Example #3: Laundry hampers. I'd hoped to get a bright-colored laundry hamper (red, for example) to bring more color into our baby room. I've basically given up - they don't exist. The only things that are available are ones like the picture below. While it isn't necessarily ugly, it's more pale colors. Why is it that there are NO bright colors? I've obviously looked in the grown-up sections for bright-colored hampers, too, but I just don't think they exist.



It's a bit of a frustrating process, to say the least. Maybe my standards are too high, but I don't think so. I don't think it's too much to ask for a little variety.

Is it?

I can't believe it

I just registered for a wipe warmer. I always made fun of those things. I thought they were kind of silly. I mean, does your kid really need a warm wipe on his heinie?

Then, I started hearing stories of parents who love them. Some kids scream during diaper changes, and the wipe warmers are supposed to help. Plus, for baby boys, there are stories of the warm wipes helping prevent "spraying" (if you get my drift).

I already have a bottle warmer on my registry, too, and there was a time when I made fun of those. But, since I'm going to (hopefully) be pumping when I go back to work, my husband is going to need an easy way to warm up the bottles. While I don't think the kid will need warm milk necessarily, it'll be nice to have that option.

I feel like we'll only really end up using 50% of the baby gear that we get. That's the trouble with baby stuff - you just never know what you're kid is going to like. Maybe he'll like a swing but not a bouncy seat. Or vice versa. You just never know. And, unfortunately, all you can do is throw money at the problem and hope to find a solution.