This time last year was the most wonderful and scariest day of my life. I'll never forget the sentenced I uttered to Brad on that lazy Saturday morning when I first realized that something strange was going on and I said "Brad, I think my water might be leaking." I read my pregnancy book, called my mom, laid down in bed flat on my back, and then finally called my ob/gyn. He calmly said, why don't you come on in and we'll check things out.
We didn't even pack a bag - I expected the doctor to say that I needed to be on bed rest and send me home. My baby shower was supposed to be the next day, the nursery was totally empty, we had nothing ready (especially ourselves). Our childbirth class was supposed to be the following week (even though I wanted to do it earlier and the hospital wouldn't let me! Argh!) And yet, after examining me, Dr. Footer said, "your water has broken, you will not be able to leave the hospital until the baby is born - in fact, you won't be able to sit up until the baby is born."
I spent the next 3 days having contractions 6-10 minutes apart, praying that we would make it past 48 hours (which is the requisite time needed for the steroids to take its full effect and speed up the development of a premie's lungs). 48 hours came and went. The steroids were in, whew! Friends and family, came and went. The hours ticked by. One minute I just wanted to be done with this prolonged process and deliver the baby already - and the next minute I wanted to keep him in as long as possible. I was filled with hope, fear, excitement, confusion, and anxiety. What would he look like? Would he be able to breathe on his own? How little would he be at 32 weeks? Will he be healthy? Will he have any long-term developmental or cognitive problems? On day 3, it became clear that we couldn't hold off delivery any longer - he was ready to greet the world!
He was small (4 pounds 8 oz, 18.5 inches long) but breathing on his own and healthy - no major problems except being early. I got to see him quickly before they took him to the NICU and then Brad was able to spend time with him. The first time I got to go back to the NICU, Brad had to point him out to me because I didn't know which one he was. Unbelievable - I didn't know which one was my child. Crazy to think about it like that. For the first week or so, I certainly loved him, but as i said to my mom - I didn't know him yet. We felt like visitors, not his parents. Every night we sang the Shema, V'havta, and "Good Night Sweetheart, it's time to go" and cried when we left after spending 12 hours/day in the hospital.
We also spent some time during those 3 weeks getting ready for his arrival home - my wonderful friends gave me the baby shower gifts so we would have a carseat to bring him home in and all of the other stuff. But it was a horrible 3 weeks. One of the lactation consultants helped me process everything and she helped me realize that I needed to mourn the loss of the rest of my pregnancy. I hadn't thought about it in that perspective, but she was right. I was robbed of a significant part of my pregnancy. As much as it may be unpleasant and uncomfortable at the end of 9 months, it's part of the process that I didn't experience and had expected to go through. I expected to be pregnant on my birthday 2 weeks later and at Passover. I realized that I needed to process what had happened before I could move on.
After an agonizing 3 week stay in the NICU with the most spectacular NICU team in the world - Sam finally came home and we began to get used to the idea of being a family with a baby. I still struggle to understand why he came early. Did I eat something I shouldn't have eaten? Was I not taking it easy? Was I working too hard and not getting enough rest? Why did this happen?
My doctor has assured me time and time again that there is nothing I could have done differently and they don't know why he came early. I had seen my doctor 4 days before I went into labor and everything was perfectly normal - sometimes these things just happen and there's no explanation. I hate that answer. I hate not knowing why and not being able to fix it for a future pregnancy. Even though I know I shouldn't, part of me will always wonder why...
All of this is a way for me to truly appreciate the miracle that is Sam and how incredibly grateful I feel on this day, March 24, 2010 - his 1st birthday. He is absolutely amazing and a blessing. He is inquisitive and curious about everything. He is happy, smiley, and laughs all day long. He is energetic and strong. He is social, engaging, and loves to share. He loves to explore and get into everything. He is cuddly and affectionate. He is sweet and easygoing. He is determined and stubborn (wonder where he gets that one from). He has strong likes and dislikes. After a year of being his mommy, I not only love him - but I know him better than anyone in the world and I am head over heels in love with him.
Happy birthday Sam, you are the best thing to ever happen to me!
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