Saturday, May 4, 2013
Meet Cora, born weighing 2 lbs, 7 oz

My story begins on April 25, 2012. I was 30 weeks pregnant and going to a regular doctors appointment, I had just switched over to going twice a month. Aside from my feet being a little swollen and my fingers being numb, I was feeling pretty good and was excited about signing up for a few classes (childbirth, breastfeeding) to take in the next couple of weeks. 

My husband was working and this was going to be my first time going to an appointment without him, but he got off early at the last minute. Everything was going fine until the nurse took my blood pressure. It was 148/80. My blood pressure had been perfect my whole pregnancy, and was actually usually low. They tried my other arm and it was still high, so she left to go get the doctor.

My doctor comes in and starts asking if I've had any headaches and says he wants me to go over to the hospital for some monitoring and blood work. Then the nurse comes back and says there was +4 protein in my urine and the doctor warns me that I may be spending a few days in the hospital. 

I've never been in a hospital so this kind of scared me, and I was worried about my job and my dogs at home, so I'm sure I wasn't helping my blood pressure. When we arrived and they tested it again it was something crazy like 180/110. I started trying to relax but it only went down to around 160/100 and it stayed there for a few hours. 

While still in the triage area, they did an ultrasound. I noticed when they would measure the length of the baby's bones and size, it would list it as weeks... And everything kept coming up as 27 weeks. The nurse said everything looked good, but then looked at my chart and asked how far along I was. When I said 30 weeks she said the baby was small and that she needed to get a clear picture of the umbilical cord. I had no idea what any of this meant but this was when we finally called my family and my job to let them know something was going on.

After the ultrasound I had an IV placed in my arm and they started me on magnesium sulfate. I was finally put into a room and started a 24 hour urine collection. My mom had just arrived with some of my stuff when the doctor came in and dropped the bombshell.

He said that he would have to see my blood and urine work first but that he could pretty much guarantee I had severe preeclampsia. The umbilical cord had been affected and the baby was IUGR. I would not be leaving the hospital until she was born, and they wanted me to make it to 32 weeks. 

I was completely stunned by this. I think mostly because I still felt perfectly fine. The magnesium started kicking in at this point, and that stuff is awful. I spent the next week on it, feeling like I was burning from the inside out. I couldn't really concentrate on anything, even when people came to visit I couldn't completely follow a conversation. All of my test results came back and sure enough I had preeclampsia. A nurse from the NICU came to talk about what I could expect. As everyone reading this has probably heard, she told me girls do better. She also told me that preeclampsia babies also usually do better. I thought that was really interesting, she said that it was almost like your body knew something was wrong in the beginning and it helped develop the baby faster. She explained that the baby would likely need some kind of breathing assistance and would be in the NICU until around her due date.

Hanging out in NICU

Every morning I would have an ultrasound. They looked at the poor blood flow in the cord, they measured the baby's movements, and they watched for her to practice breathing. I received both steroid shots. The baby was moving less and less, but a couple days after being there they did see her "breathing" in the amniotic fluid. 

Instead of making it to 32 weeks I made it five days. On Sunday night I started having a weird pain in my side/stomach. Then I woke up in the middle of the night with the worst headache I have ever had. When the nurse came in for my nightly 3:00 am blood draw, I told her about the pain and she brought me some medicine. I lay there for hours feeling so sick, I could tell something was going wrong. 

Around 7:00 my new nurse poked her head in and told me not to order breakfast or eat anything. That's all she said, but I knew. I called my husband and my family and told them it was c-section time. The nurses came in and said that my bloodwork had shown that I was developing HELLP syndrome, and at that point the baby has to be delivered. 

My husband got there just in time and they started the c-section. The epidural did not feel at all like I expected. The feeling of them digging around for the baby felt a lot worse than I expected, but maybe that's just because I was imagining it and it creeped me out!

Then at 9:09 am on April 30, 2012 I heard the squeakiest little cry ever. My so far unnamed daughter was 2 lbs 7 oz and 15 inches long. My husband went to be with her and told me that she looked tiny but good. On their way out they let me give her a kiss and all I saw was this teeny little wrinkled gray face. I was brought into recovery and my husband came to update me and he had a picture! She was on CPAP for just 30 minutes or so before being switched to a nasal cannula. She was absolutely the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I spent the hours in recovery staring at her picture on my husband's phone. 

Before taking me to my new room we made a stop in the NICU so I could see her, and it shocked me. When wheeling my bed up to her isolette I seriously thought they had the wrong baby. There is no way to even imagine seeing a baby that small in person, only people who have been in the crazy world of the NICU can get it. The nurses assured me that she was doing great, but this is when the guilty feeling started creeping in. One I'd feel again and again with every heel prick and IV insertion and NG tube placement. 

The next morning they had me up and walking and I was able to go down and hold her for the first time. The next day she was able to come off the cannula, and I got to do kangaroo care with her, which was wonderful. She started having some digestion issues and it took a while to get her past taking more than 3 cc's of breast milk every three hours. Before every feeding, the nurse would suck out contents of her stomach and the milk would still be there. They said it was probably an effect of the magnesium I was on, and after a few days she finally stared digesting better. It took her about two weeks to get back to her birth weight and around the same time they were able to take out her PICC line they'd put in after she constantly yanked IV's out of her arms, feet, and even the top of her head!

Finally when she was two days old we named her. We went in to the hospital having no name ideas that we both liked at all, and then one night heard the name Cora on the TV. I mentioned I liked it and was shocked when my husband did too! I felt like it was too rushed so I wouldn't completely commit to it. But after a few days she definitely seemed like a Cora and so she finally had a name!

Because of the HELLP it took awhile for my platelet levels to return to normal. I had been in the hospital for about a week now and instead of feeling desperate to leave, I started to dread it. When I was discharged a few days later, it was one of the saddest days of my life. They wheeled me down to the curb to wait for my husband and the car and I tried not to look at the women in the wheelchairs beside me, holding their babies. I held a container of breast milk and this little blanket I was carrying around to leave with Cora with my scent on it. My husband picked me and all of my stuff up, we re-parked, and went back up to the NICU for awhile. Finally leaving was devastating.

But soon we got into a routine. Cora slowly gained weight and after a few weeks we started breastfeeding. She did great at it right from the beginning. They would weigh her before and after and once she got the hang of it she'd consistently take in way more cc's than she was taking by bottle. Around 4 weeks old they tried out an open air crib but she only made it about two hours before she was too cold. I went in a week later, excited to try again, and found everything in her room covered. There was a caution sign that said that a gown and gloves must be worn before entering. A nurse came running over and explained that Cora had tested positive for MRSA. The only thing I knew about MRSA was that it was hard to treat and that people died from it. 

The nurse quickly made sure I knew that this was really no big deal. She didn't "have" MRSA, her nose was colonized with it. It's very common in a hospital and she probably got it from one of the nurses or doctors. I could still breast feed and hold her skin to skin, but I'd have to wear gloves. If it wasn't hard enough changing her little diapers sideways through portholes avoiding wires with numb fingertips (from pregnancy caused carpal tunnel), adding gloves just made it that more fun! The nurse also gave me the good news that she was going to go ahead and remove the NG tube because of how good Cora had been with eating, and literally as she was saying this Cora yanked out her own tube (for the millionth time)!

That night we tried the open crib again and it worked. I went in the following morning as Cora's doctor was looking at her and heard the magic words, "Go ahead and bring the carseat in..." She passed her carseat test within the next few days and on June 11th I got a call in the morning saying she was ready to go! She was exactly six weeks old. 

The car ride to get her was so exciting, but it took hours to get her out. There was multiple papers to sign and we set up follow up appointments for eye exams and Synagis. Then the nurse just kind of said, "Okay, you can go ahead and take her leads off..." We peeled them off, and out we walked. 

I am writing this on April 25th, 2013. Exactly a year after that fateful doctor appointment. Cora is a few days away from being one, and doing great. Aside from being small for her actual age, she has no side effects from being born nine weeks early. I, on the other hand, have never felt the same. I feel like I came out of the hospital a different person, but not necessarily in a bad way.  Cora is the best thing that ever happened to me and I wouldn't change anything about her story even if I could!

Cora, one year.

Monday, April 29, 2013

This is a letter in response to Empowered Preemie Moms by Shaana Berman, author and friend of Preemie Resources. Her book can be found on Amazon.

Bradley, recently.

My name is Andrea Irving, and I am an ob/gyn physician and mother of 2 preemies. I finished reading your book 3 days ago, and I loved it.  I'd like to share my story as it is vastly different than your others.

When I was pregnant with Alec, I was a resident working 90 hours a week on average.  I was on my feet all day delivering babies, doing c-sections, and rounding.  I worked from about 5am until 6pm daily and on the weekend, I had one 26-28 hour shift.  It's a hard life, and it took its toll on me.  You'll find that L&D nurses, NICU nurses, and ob/gyn's often have pregnancy issues.  While I was a resident, we had a girl with PUPPP's, a guy whose wife PPROM'ed at 34 weeks, a NICU nurse whose baby had SVT and died shortly after birth, a girl who got HELLP syndrome at 30 weeks, and a few other things.  Those are the things that stand out though.

I get pregnant pretty easily, so 3 months after I got my IUD out, I was pregnant with Alec.  His gender was a surprise, as one of my biggest pet peeves is people who could care less that their baby has all its other parts.  So to us, that was a really unimportant part, and we went gender neutral on everything.  Well, I threw up until about 20 weeks, which was fine.  I had trouble doing surgeries because of the nausea.  I got into a car accident at 19 weeks, but everything was fine.  And my asthma got totally out of control around 22 weeks.  But everything was great.  At about 25 weeks, I started contracting enough that my attendings noticed and sent me home.  When I was 25w4d, I started a call shift.  It was brutal and I could barely waddle around by the end.  I was 25w6d when I went home.  I fell asleep around 11am and woke up at about 5pm in a pool of blood.  We rushed to Ob Triage at my hospital and I was admitted.  I'd had a small placental abruption, but the baby was stable.  His growth was noted to be in the 8th percentile, which is IUGR, but it was thought best to check a growth scan again in 3-4 weeks.  I got a steroid window to help mature lungs and protect brain and gut.  I was sent home on bed rest, much to my fellow residents' chagrin (they had to pick up my slack now), and life went on.  I contracted a lot, but enjoyed my time being bored on the couch.  At 29 weeks, Alec was only in the 5th percentile.  At 32 weeks, he was in less than the first percentile.  I got a steroid booster and was told I'd likely be induced early.  At 35 weeks, he had essentially stopped growing, and I was induced at 36 weeks.  Alec was born at 36w1d after a very uneventful labor and weighed 5lb even.  He was only 16 1/2 inches long though.  His weight dropped to 4lb6oz and he got jaundiced, so he was kept an additional day.  That was hard on me.  I cried and cried. But he passed his carseat test the next day and came home.  We had a hip dysplasia scare, but after a negative ultrasound, everyone was reassured. He had to go to daycare at 6 weeks, which broke my heart, but I had to go back to work.  He was sick a lot, but daycare babies are.  Oh, and I'd had a postpartum hemorrhage, a retained placenta, and a post partum fever. I had to have a D&C to get the placenta out.

Alec during his apgar testing.

The postpartum trouble started when Alec was about 4 weeks old.  I felt depressed, saw my ob, and got put on an antidepressant I'd had a good experience with.  It seemed to help at first, but then stopped.  My doctor increased the dose.  Again, it only helped for a while.  I started crying all the time and fantasizing about driving my car off this overpass onto one of the freeways here in Phoenix.  I started wondering if I could get my car to go fast enough to kill myself by accelerating into the telephone poles on the other sides of intersections.  Then I had to stop breastfeeding suddenly due to work contraints.  I started hearing voices.  I knew that was abnormal, and I'd cry when it happened.  It sounded like a crowd of people, like I could never be alone.  My husband finally'd had enough and told one of my attendings.  She sent me directly to a psychiatrist and I was diagnosed with postpartum psychosis and bipolar disorder.  I was immediately put on medication and in a few days I was a new woman. I took a long time off work to recover. 

Alec, of course, is no worse for the wear from this dark time in my life.  I feel terrible though.  I have so few memories of the first 6 months of his life.  It makes me sad.  But he's fine and loving, and that's what matters.  His only issue was a teeny language delay.  He only had about 2 or 3 words by 18 months.  My sister-in-law expressed concern (her older child was really early with his language, so I think her opinion was skewed) and gave us some paperwork on assessing for speech delay.  Well, I never looked at it.  Literally 2 weeks after she gave us the paper, Alec was speaking in full sentences.  Just goes to show how not all kids develop the same!

Alec at 12 months.

We had originally wanted two children, but this experience really put us off.  I'd had another IUD inserted rigth at 6 weeks postpartum, so I was willing to just have one child.  I was diagnosed with MTHFR C677T mutation (normal homocysteine), which depending on what literature you read, can cause IUGR and abruptions.  Or not.  I was also diagnosed with Sjogren's syndrome, which put the baby's heart at risk in any subsequent pregnancies.  But of course, my friends started having mroe babies.  And I wanted one.  I got my IUD out in March or April of 2011.  We decided in January of 2012, after much discussion, that we should actually try for #2.  I got pregnant in February.  I currently work 4 days a week for 40 hours, which is vastly different than residency! 

All was well in the first trimester.  Threw up a lot (until 25 weks), but otherwise fine.  But then I had my NT scan and started having tons of cramps afterward.  My ob put me on bedrest for 2 weeks.  I was allowed to go back to work afterward for 3 half days per week.  All was well for a month.  Then at 17 weeks, I started spotting.  Went to the ER against my better judgement (husband mae me all the after hours nurse and she wanted me to go in... sigh), and was diagnosed with a placenta previa.  Was put on bedrest again.  I spotted brown off and on for about 6 weeks.  At 24 weeks, I woke up bleeding.  I spent 3 days in the hospital and was finally allowed to go home, this time on strict bedrest.
At this point, I knew I was in trouble.  I'd been followed by the MFM since 6 weeks.  He didn't want me going past 38 weeks. But now I had a feeling I wouldn't even make it to 36.  With a heavy heart, I got out the preemie clothes. We had tried to not know if we were having a boy or girl, but the tech for our fetal echo was sloppy and I saw a scrotum.  We had fetal echocardiograms every 4 weeks due tot he risk of heart block Bradley had from my Sjogren's.  I never left my bedroom, except to go to my doctor's appointments.  And then at 26 weeks, I bled again in the middle of the night.  Again, I didn't want to go in, but my husband and the after hours nurse made me.  I went to the hospital I thought I was delivering at, which was 5 minutes from our home.  I was admitted for observation, started on magnesium (again), and this time given a steroid window.  When my doctor saw me later in the day, he said that I needed a higher level of care and was transferring me to a hospital with a level 3 NICU (we were at a level 2EQ).  So, to my embarrassment, I was transported by ambulance.  As a resident, I hated transports, and now I was one! The new hospital was about 12-15 minutes from the house. I was grouchy because the doctor told me I'd be there for the duration of my pregnancy.  I got settled in my room and woke up around 6am literally gushing blood.

I called my husband, who seemed to instantaneously appear, even after having dropped our son off at a friend's.  I was rushed from antepartum to L&D.  Fortunately, Bradley behaved himself and my bleeding slowed down.  My stepdad even drove up from out of town because he was worried.  From that point, I never argued about staying in the hospital.  I tried to be patient and just let things roll.  I bled off and on and did crafts.  My husband and 3 year old visited 1-2 times a day (my husband is a stay at home dad), which kept my spirits up.  I had few other visitors, which suited me fine, as they stressed me out.  No one understood that I had to be there.  That Bradley or I might die waiting fro an ambulance at home if the blood came again.  That Bradley might be brain damaged if such a thing happened. That Bradley might die. I watched a lot of trash tv on Netflix.  Lots of movies.  I continued to crochet and cross stich little bibs.

I used more and more nifedipine for contractions.  Every time they were sustained, I ended up bleeding, so I got paranoid about getting my medication every 4 hours.  My blood pressure creeped up and I stated spilling a lot of protein, so I was diagnosed with mild pre-eclampsia.  They would continue to monitor me.  Bradley continued to grow well.  On the 14th of September, I was 31w2d.  They decided to do another transvaginal ultrasound to check on my previa.  It was gone! They attributed my bleeding to a chronic placental abruption and plans were made for me to go home with a home health nurse visiting periodically.  Well, the 14th was a Friday.  No one got ahold of the home health place until Monday.  It wasn't covered.  they wanted me to stay until they could find a company my insurance covered.  I flipped out.  I could check heart tones, pee on a stick, and take my own blood pressure.  I was a doctor!!!! I knew just what to look for.  Finally my ob relented, and I went home on the 17th.

I did cheat a little after I went home.  I scheduled 4 appointments, including a breastfeeding class, a massage, and an eyebrow waxing, for Tuesday.  I had 2 additional appointments for Wednesday.  Thursday, I had my NST at my ob's and all was well.  I was tired, but fine.  Friday around 4 in the morning, I woke up bleeding a little.  I was 32w2d.  I checked my blood pressure and heart tones.  Everything was fine.  I considered not calling, but I did at my husband's insistance, and headed tot he hospital.  I had a bad feeling, but didn't say anything.  I got admitted, of course. 

My ob actually came out of his uber-conservative shell and was going to let me go back home after having a steroid booster.  So I got one shot on Friday afternoon.  That evening, my boss from work came by, which was nice.  No one was with me because it was expected I'd come home the next evening, so the company was appreciated.  Well, I went to sleep.  Woke upi around 6am 9/22 to the feeling of gushing blood and was rushed to L&D.  My husband arrived eerily fast once again.  This time my mother-in-law had come to help out, so no arrangements for childcare had to be made.  Well, the bleeding slowed, but didn't stop.  I was 4cm, laboring.  Bradley looked wonderful on the monitor, so I labored. I got my epidural right away-- I've never had any illusions about my pain tolerance.  I feel epidurals were a marvelous invention, but if you feel the need for pain just because cave women did it that way, so be it.  So I got the epidural and my contractions slowed down.  I was 6cm for hours.  They broke my water, and still no change.  Pitocin was started and about 30 minutes later, I was in excruciating pain and needed to push.  My epidural, it seemed, was not working.  At all.  My doctor was not on call.  His backup was at her house.  The hospitalist was moseying along or something because she did not arrive instantaneously like I wanted.  She got her gown and gloves on ever so slowly.  I pushed and I knew exactly what my patients meant when they said they couldn't push.  I felt paralyzed by pain.  Next contraction came.  I pushed.  Then I cried and somehow he was born in about 4-5 minutes of pushing.  Thank God for that.  He was born at 11:53pm on 9/22.  7 minutes before I turned 34.  My best birthday present ever.

He was beautiful.  My first words were, "He's so big!" Maybe he wasn't to parents of termies, but he was to me.  The hospitalist (who later turned out to be my new boss's wife... weird...) put him on my chest and I held him.  I cut his cord (I also cut Alec's as Colin refused) and they whisked him to the isolette in the room.  A moment later I heard him cry.  I kept on crying.  It was a beautiful sound.  His APGAR's wre 8 and 9, so they brought him to me to hold before they took him to the NICU.  I just couldn't get over how beautiful he was.

Bradley at two days of life.

My placenta didn't come.  Again.  I hemorrhaged.  Again.  Fortunately, I didn't need a D&C this time.  I was able to pee after the useless epidural was taken out, so they wheeled me to the NICU.  Bradley weighed 4lb5oz and was 17.75in long-- longer than his 36 weeker brother!  He was breathing on his own, although tachypneic.  They anticipated putting him on CPAP after he tired out.  I got to hold his little hand, and then I went to my room.  I immediately called for a breast pump.  The lactation consultant had seen me at 27 and 31 weeks, and I knew what I had to do to get my supply in.  I pumped.  I got 1.7mL of liquid gold that first time.  I was ecstatic.

I ventured over to the NICU after I pumped a second time and showered.  My plan was to pump every 2 hours from 6am until 6pm and then every 3 hours from 6pm to 6am.  People thought I was crazy, but my milk came in quickly.  We got ribs and a cake for my birthday, which was obviously spent in the hospital.  Unfortunately  that night, the nurse called and said bradley's IV had infiltrated his TPN into his little hand and caused a chemical burn.  The whole back of his hand was black and there was an ulcerated area in the center.  It ended up taking about 5 weeks to heal.

Other than the IV issue, Bradley was our little rock star.  He never did end up needing oxygen support or other medications.  He started oral feeds on either 9/23 or 9/24.  Those dates get a little blurry.  He was jaundiced and had a hard time passing his meconium, but was otherwise amazing.  He was on full oral feeds by day 10 of life and was moved from the NICU to the CCN (continuing care nursery, a step-down unit).  Gone was our private oasis and amazing nurse. We were in a 4-bed room with new nurses to get used to.  On day 2 of being in the CCN, we got to try the bottle.  he ate like a champ.  We brought in our own bottles from home, which they happily used.  I was determined to breastfeed and didn't want even their "slow" flow nipples.  I had been doing the non-nutritive breastfeeding, and Bradley had taken to it.  The day after his bottle feed, I got to breastfeed him!  He was amazing.

It was around this time, maybe a few days earlier, that my nipples started their issues.  My old pump in style was not functioning properly and the suction was out of control.  I think that may have had something to do with it.  I likely started out with too small flanges, which contributed to it.  And I was pumping tons from the get go.  My areolas were raw.  I tried every remedy imaginable.  Maybe thrush, so I used gentian violet.  I had 2 strengths of APNO.  I had lansinoh.  I used warm saline soaks.  I air dried.  I spead milk on them.  I used ice.  Nothing.  Finally, my lactation consult in the NICU (God bless her) as well as an IBCLC friend who runs a physicians breastfeeding support group suggested nifedipine.  They thought I might have traumatic Raynaud's of the nipple.  I was also told to use the giant 36mm flanges and the APNO round the clock.  Within 3 or 4 days, my nipples were healed. 

Then latch issues started after we got home.  In the hospital, Bradley was a great nurser.  But once we were home, he started hurting and he nursed constantly.  On my parenting board online someone suggested tongue tie.  I looked at some pictures on Google and then in my sweet boy's mouth and wow! His tongue tie went all the way to the tip of his tongue! Not sure why no one in the NICU noticed this since he was examined daily.  He also had a very thick lip tie.  I have since learned these are common in families, as well as in preemies.  Alec didn't have this and no one in either family did, so we can thank preemiehood.  Luckliy my IBCLC friend took one look at my pictures and referred me to a pediatrician who cauterized tongue and lip ties.  The tongue was done first, and I was discouraged because nothing changed.  I wondered if because Bradley was 3 months old that he had developed bad habits we would have to correct.  2 weeks later the lip tie was done.  Once the cauterized area healed, it was amazing! No pain!  My husband reported that he had stopped screaming all day.  And his need to constantly nurse stopped, as he was better able to extract the milk. 

Since then, it's been mostly smooth sailing.  Bradley did have a largeish umbilical hernia, which I freaked out about.  I was so worried he'd need surgery, but the pediatrician said they normally just observe them, and it's so small it never pokes out anymore.  He does have the worst case of eczema my pediatrician has ever seen, and that is a constant struggle for us, but we keep it in check with steroid creams and super thick lotions.  My beautiful baby boy is now 14lb and 26in long.  His length is average size for a 6 month old and in greater than the 99th percentile for 4 month olds.  Crazy!

During my pregnancy, I never could have gotten through without 2 groups.  The first group are the lovely ladies on the high risk, preemie, and birth month boards on They are amazing, supportive, and knowledgeable-- even for non medical people!  I checked in multiple times a day every day for months.  It was nice to know others were going through almost exactly the same thing as me!
The second group is  This is a specific support group for pregnant women on bedrest.  They were a godsend.  They assign you a buddy who can either call and e-mail you or just e-mail you.  You chat back and forth and you don't feel so socially isolated and alone.  I plan on volunteering as soon as I finish my class-- I am starting to get my CME's and experience together to get my IBCLC.
I also used an organization called Pictures of Hope.  They're a fantastic, non profit organization where photographers in the community come to your NICU and take professional pictures of your baby.  The sitting is free.  You also get 25 4x6 prints, as well as a discount (determined by the photographer) on any additional prints you get.  Our photographer drove 60+ miles from Queen Creek to Glendale to take Bradley's picture.  She was wonderful.  Many of the photographers are preemie moms too, so they really get it!  There is a list of photographers on their website.

During Prematurity Awareness Month (November), I put one fact about prematurity on my Facebook page every day.  My friends and family commented about what they learned and how shocked they were at what we went through almost every day.  It was nice that they could finally understand what I meant by "adjusted age" and stuff like the challenges preemies face.  There are Facebook groups for Prematurity Awareness Month, Parents of Preemies, Preemie Dads, and Preemie Resources.  I'd recommend joining any or all of these groups.

I am also doing the March of Dimes March for Babies to raise money and awareness for prematurity and high risk pregnancy.  It's amazing how many friends of friends have gone through a premature birth or difficult pregnancy and no one knew!  So I'm marching with my friend's friend's team.  Her 28 weeker is now 8 years old.  She has many of the same NICU pictures I do.  I am sure everyone else has these too.
I also participated in a study for the Organization for Teratology Information Services (OTIS).  Basically OTIS monitors women who have drug exposures in pregnancy.  You sign up for a particular study and then you track your medications, hospitalizations, and ultrasounds.  I was in the rheumatoid arthritis study, the asthma study, and the vaccination study.  They did follow up interviews throughout the pregnancy and a developmental pediatrician came out to examine Bradley about a month ago.  He did some special measurements and was really pleased at how he was developing.  That made me feel great.

We are also followed by the Neonatal Intensive Care Program (NICP) here in AZ.  The nurse comes out and does home visits for 18 months + to monitor the preemies' development and can facilitate entry into the early intervention system if needed.  NICP is paid for by the state, as is early intervention.  So, if we need speech, occupational, physical therapy or perhaps a dietician, she can make all that happen.  She encouraged us to apply for WIC (I qualified... a doctor! Love that short term disability only paying me 27% of my salary...) and social security, which paid for gas going to and from the hospital while Bradley was there.  She also talked to us about deferring my student loans and credit card bills until we got back on our feet. 

As an ob/gyn, I never knew about any of this.  I basically came into this situation blind.  I'd delivered many a preemie and put many a woman on hospital or home bedrest without thinking of the consequences of that.  Now I really think of how that affects a mom and baby and family and I weigh all of my decisions carefully.  I am a much more sympathetic and empathetic doctor.  It was shocking to me all of the things that went along with it.  Sure, we followed up on our preemie deliveries to see how they were doing, but we never got to see the human side of our actions.  Having lived through it now has taught me a lot.  Strangely, I am grateful for my experiences.  I do want another baby, but we have agreed that Bradley is our last.  We came through this experience as a family, but again, I have the guilt of "abandoning" my husband and 3 year old.  Alec was great-- he enjoyed going to the "hostible" and seeing me or spending time on my sister-in-law's farm.  It was a fun time for him.  It was agonizing for me to miss out on our lives.  I also feel like we dodged a bullet.  Twice.  We got lucky that we had no major complications with either of our sons, and we don't want to tempt fate.  If we do, will be get a 28 weeker this time? A 24 weeker this time? IVH? ROP? NEC? Death of me or the baby? It's not worth it.  I love my family too much to put them through all that again.

Alec, now three and a half years old!

Anyway, that's my story.  It seems like a dream sometimes.  I look at the NICU pictures and just shake my head at the baby Bradley has become.  At the little guy Alec has become.  It will stay with me forever. 

Andrea Irving, D.O.

Breanna holding William for the first time.

My birth story starts almost exactly 3 years ago.  Yesterday was the third anniversary of my son's death.  I had a pretty typical twin pregnancy until my water broke at just 22 weeks.  That night I was taken to the hospital and told I would not leave until my babies were born and they would try to hold that off as long as possible.  I was told to even have a small chance we would need to make it to 23 weeks and 24-25 weeks to have a decent chance.  Even if I did make it that far it didn't look good for my son William, his amniotic sac was the one that had broken and there was not much fluid left to help mature his lungs.  

The next few days I just waited and talked to the never ending train of doctors that came in to talk to me about what my babies future could hold and honestly I don't remember any of it.  The waiting continued until around 1AM on day 5, something didn't feel right.  They discovered that I was ready to deliver my son William and I was rushed to labor and delivery.  Just before 2AM my son William was born weighing 535g (1lb 3oz) at 22 weeks and 5 days gestation (barely).  As soon as he was born he was rushed off to the NICU while the medical staff turned their attention to trying to stop my labor.  

William, born at 22 weeks and 5 days

The magnesium did it's job and I was turned on my side and tipped head down and the waiting started again.  They also started the series of steroid shots to give John any chance they could.  I spent the next 39 hours waiting and being very closely monitored while my husband brought me back pictures of my son William with news that he was very critical but stable!  

The next evening the medical team decided that John needed to be delivered, he was slipping lower into the birth canal and there wasn't much else they could do.  John came into the world at 5PM, 39 hours after his brother, also weighing 535g.  He was also rushed off to the NICU.  

John, born 39 hours after William now watches over his brother.
Later that evening I was able to see my babies for the first time, I couldn't believe how tiny and fragile they looked behind the glass.  The next few days were pretty uneventful, just waiting on my boys to grow.  

This changed when John was 5 days old, we received a phone call early that morning that John was not doing well.  When we made it to the hospital he was barely hanging on and there was nothing they could do.  He had pneumonia with a very aggressive bacteria and by the time they realized something was wrong it was too late.  That morning John passed away and has been watching over his older brother William every day since then.  

William on his way home!

Slowly but surely William started to grow and after a long 6 month NICU stay he came home!  William is still on a feeding tube, has limited vision, and mild CP.  He does not let this slow him down!  William's entire NICU story as well as current updates can be found at

Here's William now!
Saturday, April 13, 2013

Grayson - 26 weeker

Our daughter, Grayson, was born at 26 weeks.  I had sudden eclampsia with a seizure.  She weighed 1lb 3oz, was 12 inches long, and was a 10% chance of surviving through the first day.  Since that day, Grayson has continued to overcome obstacles and battles that have come her way.  She had ROP laser surgery as well as a gtube nissen surgery.  Due to being intubated for almost 6 months she developed chronic lung disease.  After 236 days in the NICU (2 different hospitals), she is home!!  Grayson currently weighs 9lb 14oz and is 22 inches!  She is our miracle, our hero, and the strongest girl we have ever met.  We are so honored to be her parents!  

Kaidynn James, 29 weeker

Kaidynn James was born at 29 weeks. He was 3 pounds 8 ounces. Around 2 weeks old, things were looking great. Around 2 and a half weeks old they told us Kaidynn had a PDA/heart murmur. Not knowing anything about that, I was freaking out. 

Being teen parents, we didn't have anyone there for us besides our parents, but our parents weren't to happy with us either because they only got to see Kaidynn for a short period of time during their visits. At 3 weeks and 1 day old, Kaidynn had his heart surgery. 

After being on a ventilator for 3 day, he finally got put on regular oxygen supply thru a nosepiece. Since he was born with no sucking reflex, the doctors and nurses had to help teach him how to suck. Finally at 4 And a half weeks old, I got to feed my son his first bottle. He remained on oxygen until 7 and a half weeks old. He would do so good on his oxygen one day, then the next day he wasn't doing so well with the lower amounts of oxygen given to him so they had to up his oxygen. I knew he was a fighter. You could see it in his eyes. After praying and praying, he finally got the breathing thing down. 

When he was 8 weeks old, I went for my daily morning feeding and bonding time. His doctor came in, and she told me the news I had been dreaming of hearing since I found out I was pregnant. Your child is ready to come home. I was shocked. They told me he would at least be there till his due date, maybe longer because of the heart surgery. So at 8 weeks and 2 days old, I FINALLY got to put him in his carseat and in the car and head 35 minutes back to our house. I was shocked, scared, excited, and every other emotion possible. 

Now we will be 9 months on the 26th. He has two teeth. He sits up on his own, and we are starting to crawl! I always knew he was a fighter. He has showed us that you can overcome any obstacle put in your way. I still call up to the NICU at times to check and make sure the nurses are doing okay. Over our period of time spent in the NICU, they became family to us. I thank God everyday for my little miracle.

Saturday, March 30, 2013
“Either I’m pregnant or my period is coming early.” Read the text I sent to my mother and boyfriend during my great grandmother’s repast. I had been overly emotion since her death one week prior and couldn’t even sit through the funeral. After eating, Tyrone, my cousin Lisa, and I made a trip to Target where I looked at different pregnancy test. “Really Cheylah?” Lisa questioned because I already had a 14 month old baby boy at home. “Really” I respond as I continue searching until I find a double pack First Response Pregnancy Kit. “I’ll take it tomorrow”. Tomorrow happened to be Father’s Day, June 17, 2012. I woke up and grabbed the test. The two pack came with a digital and a regular test. Tyrone said, “Take the digital” I thought to myself “Why? It’s going to be negative”. I grabbed the regular test and peed in a cup, dipped, wiped, looked. Positive. “Oh my God!” I ran into the room and grabbed the digital and ran back to the bathroom to dip it. I came back into the room pacing back in forth. “What’s wrong? Cheylah, what’s wrong?” Tyrone kept asking over and over as I watched the hour glass dance on the small window. Finally the word “Yes” popped up. I tossed the test to Tyrone, “Happy Father’s Day Daddy!” This was the start of a wild ride.

I made my first appointment as soon as I could. They did the normal blood and urine and showed I was pregnant but the ultrasound showed nothing. “Maybe the baby is ectopic? Maybe you are having a miscarriage. You have to come back in 48 hours to do betas and a repeat ultrasound” said the nurses and doctors. I came every two days for weeks. Only answer I got to give me hope was that my uterus was thickening which happens with pregnancy. Finally in early July I saw the little piece of rice! Finally my baby decided to show itself. I was so happy and scared at the same time. I was working in pharmacy, going to school, and taking care of my oldest Trenton at the time. I was terrified of having two children under two years old but oh so happy my baby growing inside of me was ok. A couple of weeks later I noticed bleeding. I tried not to worry because I bled in my previous pregnancy and knew it could be normal. I started to worry when the blood got bright red and heavier. I feared I’d lost the baby. I went to the midwives office and found out I had a sub chronic hematoma.  I was told it could subside on it’s on or I would lose my baby. “Sometimes things like this happen Ms. Branch. Sometimes babies go away and come back to you when the time is right.” I can’t even count the number of times I heard that line from one of the midwives. I heard it so much I wanted to throat punch her. From then on, I was told to only come in if I soaked a pad within an hour. Bleeding would be my new norm.

All was going as well as could be until one night a work. I felt a gush and thought “Ew, maybe too much discharge.” I went to the bathroom only to see blood everywhere. I came out and told my manager I had to go to the emergency room NOW. I left work in a panic. I lost the baby. I know it, it’s too much blood. I sobbed as I took the bus ride to the hospital as I called my mother and boyfriend to tell them the news. My mother tried to keep me calm and my boyfriend said he was on his way. Once in the ER I waited and waited. I wasn’t seen for 3 hours. I’m miscarrying and they won’t see me. This isn’t right. Once in the back a number of familiar tests were done; blood work, ultrasounds, urine test. Everything came back normal. Baby bean was fine. The rest of the hematoma had finally emptied. I was so relived! Now I can have a regular pregnancy! I thought.

I was having lots of nausea this time around, sensitivity to sex, anything you can think of. I was sure this baby was a girl. I went for my anatomy scan in September. Tyrone was running late. We were both convinced this baby was a girl. We went on with the anatomy scan without him. “So, you have a boy at home?” asked the ultrasound tech. “Yep, Trenton” “So you want a little girl?” “I’d like one but I will be grateful for whatever God blesses me with” As I watch my baby spread its legs I see a penis, another boy! “Well Ms. Branch, you’re having another boy!” “I see!” I decided to name him Cameron Jacob, CJ for short. Everything looked fine during the ultrasound. We confirmed I had an anterior placenta, which is why I barely felt him move. We found out he was breeched as well. I was due to come back for a follow-up October 30 to get better images of his heart and to see if he flipped head down. I was ecstatic! When I went back to school and work I had plenty of sonograms to show off. I was starting to feel him more as I would sit in class. Things were going great. One week I got so upset (school related) I started getting bad contractions. I was only 22 weeks. I called the midwife line and they told me to calm down and drink water. I noticed I had started to bleed again too. I was told to come in. One of the midwives checked me and said I had a friable cervix. Drink plenty of fluid and rest when I can. The week of my follow-up ultrasound came up but Hurricane Sandy had been in the area. The ultrasound center called to cancel my appointment. I was so sad. “Mom, I really needed this appointment. Something doesn’t feel right” “Cheylah, call them to see when you can come in”

I’d been feeling CJ kicking really low since the day I had contractions. I thought it was all in my mind. I finally called and the receptionist told me if I could get there within the hour I could be seen. I told her I could do her one better and be there in 15 minutes. I live a 10 minute walk away from the hospital. I left the house in pajamas and walked thinking of all the things that could happen. I never imagine what WOULD happen.  I went into my appointment so optimistic. So excited to see my baby boy again. The ultrasound tech began the ultrasound. Quiet. She’d asked me if I had experienced any cramping or contractions I told her very few but I drank water and they stopped. “I need to switch to vaginal, the baby’s foot is blocking the view of your cervix”. Okay. “Doctor you need to come to room 3!” “What’s happening? What’s wrong with my baby?” I questioned. “You have to wait for the doctor.” The doctor came in and looked herself. “Ms. Branch I need to speak with you in my office, your cervix is shortening.” They both finish up and leave. Leave me there with my thoughts. What’s wrong? What does this mean? Is CJ going to be ok? Will I have to go on bed rest? My thoughts are interrupted by the tech telling me the doctor was ready for me. Everything after this happened so fast.

The doctor told me in so many words that in some images my cervix was 0.8cm. In other images after that it had disappeared. Also, baby still had not flipped and his cord was under him. I needed to go upstairs to labor and delivery. I was going to be having my baby that night and he will most likely not survive. I was only 23 weeks along. I sobbed. God please don’t. I need him to survive. I need him to be ok. I called my mother and told her I was going to labor and delivery and what had been said to me. She said a prayer. I called my boyfriend and he said he was on the way. Once in labor and delivery an IV was started (after 5 attempts) and several nurses, midwives, doctors, and neonatologist were in and out of my room. Since CJ was still breeched I was forced to make a decision. They wanted to know how I would want to deliver. If I delivered vaginally his head would get stuck, causing brain damage and death. If I had a cesarean I would hinder all future pregnancies because I would need a traditional cut. He could also still die and I would have had the surgery for “nothing”. Tyrone and I just looked at each other. He cried and told me to just have him vaginally. We would hold him until we felt ready to give him up. He said he didn’t want his son to suffer and didn’t want me to either. A neonatologist, Dr. Cherian, came in and told me if the baby came now, at 23 weeks, he most likely wouldn’t survive. If he did he would be blind, deaf, or mentally retarded. I had the choice of letting him come, going on bed rest in the hospital, or aborting him. After lots of tears and speaking to lots of people, a neonatologist by the name of Dr. Kierbak ultimately helped me to make the decision to go on hospital bed rest. He gave me hope that it was a little but good enough chance he could survive. I wanted to take the chance and do whatever I needed to in order to give him a good chance of life. I just had one request: If anytime he didn’t thrive let me know. I wanted to let him go. I didn’t want him to have a life of suffering for my selfishness.

Once I was stable and I decided to have a cesarean, I was moved over to the antepartum unit. My new “studio apartment” (as I liked to call it) was cool. I was on bed rest with bathroom privileges. I sent my boyfriend home to retrieve some items for me especially my laptop. I continued to let people know what was happening. I let my baby birth board’s group from my oldest son know what was happening and the prayer chain started. Once I had my laptop those ladies helped my sanity. I had twice a week BPPs to monitor the baby and make sure my fluid was good. During the 24th week we noticed my bag of water was starting to bulge. We were officially on baby watch. If I felt my water break I was to call my nurse to have a fist inserted to prevent cord prolapse until we were in the OR. Regardless of what happened it was determined I would have an emergency c-section and would be put under. On November 11, the nurse came in to do CJ’s nightly monitoring. The nurse who always found him wasn’t on that night. (She always said he was the size of a 28 weeker and would ask if I was sure of my dates. Always said he would be 2 lbs. The little stinker would always give nurses trouble but not her). While on the monitor I felt contractions. The nurse would come in and tell me I’d have to stay on longer than the 15 minutes because he moved and I was contracting. Finally, a doctor came in and did a pelvic exam. She saw my water bulging with his foot on top of it. “Take her to labor and delivery.”

I prayed so hard he would stay in and the contractions would stop. When I got over to L&D the nurse, Angela, was waiting. She was so nice! She started me on magnesium (aka devil drug) and kept me company. Once on magnesium I wasn’t allowed to get up anymore or eat. Bed rest was starting to get to me. Because it was cold and flu season I had only seen Trenton once. I didn’t have a lot of people see me but when I had company I was so grateful. I was lonely. Lonely, hungry, tired, and wanting it to be over. I felt so guilty. I wanted my baby to stay in and bake but I wanted the hell I was going through to end. On November 15th, the magnesium was turned off. I was able to eat and go to the restroom. I was so happy! Angela had come with her roommate Laura (another nurse) and planned to give me a “spa night”. All was well until I went to the bathroom and saw blood. “ANGELA!” I screamed. “Ms. Branch you may be dilating more. It’s ok” I went to the bathroom again and saw more blood, and then she called the doctor. My team came in and did an ultrasound. CJ had his foot in the birth canal.  The doctors were hoping he would retract his foot by morning but until then I was back on strict bed rest and had to start magnesium again. I cried. Angela was so sweet and kind to me. She started a new IV for me (IV phobia here) and stayed through the bolus. She told me she was going on break. I asked her if the baby came would she be there. She promised she would. I had to go to the bathroom again so the nurses covering for Angela asked did I want the pan or another cath. I chose cath. As soon as she finished inserting it I felt a gush. “I think my water broke!”  *gush and contraction*  “My water!!” The nurse checked me and there wasn’t any water. I was bleeding. She called the doctors and my team came in. I kept feeling gushes of fluid and contractions. Since CJ was so low the contractions didn’t pick up. One doctor came in and put her hand in me to keep the cord from coming. “She’s at a 10 but her water is still intact.” My midwife Ebony came in and told me it was time to go. It was 1 am on November 16th. Everything went crazy. One nurse gave me my phone to call my mom and boyfriend but no one could come. Mom had Trent and my boyfriend had no way to the hospital. I was rolled back to the OR. I kept asking for Angela and she finally appeared. I remember apologizing for messing up her lunch break. She said it was ok and she wouldn’t miss it. SO much madness was happening. Next thing I remember is being put under then being awakened but pressure on my stomach. I went to scream but couldn’t because I had a tube down my throat. I opened my eyes to look around. I didn’t see my baby. Just Angela. She told me he was ok. He cried when he came out and he was so beautiful. I fell asleep.

I was in and out of it for a while. Before I went under I asked the nurses to take pictures of him for me. So while I waited for my pain meds, I looked through the photos of my tiny little guy. I’d fall asleep, wake up to loom through pictures, fall asleep, wake up to call and text people and repeat. Cameron Jacob entered the world on November 16, 2012 at 1:27a weighing 1lb 15.5oz and 14 inches long. Around 5 am Angela took me to the NICU to see my son. He was so tiny. In his new home, the isolette. I fell asleep again.  When I woke up I called my mom and she came to the hospital. She checked on me and then went to see CJ. She said he was so little. I was in so much pain. After being on magnesium for so long I couldn’t move my left side. I wanted to get up so bad to see my baby. I finally saw him that night. He was on SiPAP. So many machines. So many alarms. It hurt to see him like that. I got my NICU orientation paperwork and went back to my room. I wanted to breastfeed so a pump was waiting for me upon my return. I started pumping. The next day I took my drop to the NICU and was told “You can’t control what happens here [NICU] but you can control the milk you give your baby”.  I made it my priority to pump!

On November 19th I was discharged. I took the long, agonizing walk to the NICU to say goodbye to my baby. It was so hard. I cried as I held him little foot. His little trouble making foot, and told him I would be there as much as possible no matter what. I kept it brief and sweet. As I walked out of the NICU, down the hall back to my room I broke down. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t believe I was leaving without him. I had tried so hard for weeks to keep him in. I failed. I wanted him home. I cried so hard my mom found me and helped me up. “He will be ok Chey.” After 76 days in the NICU, CJ was released on January 31, 2013 with just an apnea monitor. He has done so well to be born so prematurely. He is 4 months old (1 month adjusted) and came off of his apnea monitor on March 27th. I am so blessed to have my little miracle in my life.

Friday, March 8, 2013
Born at 31 weeks - now covered in kisses. 

A dress is just a dress... unless it's not. To many pregnant women maternity clothes are a burden. Something they are stuck with until they can fit back into their regular clothes. To a preemie mom they are a reminder of what she didn't have. A big belly which housed and protected a full term baby.

I was about six months pregnant when I had to buy a dress for a big work function. While shopping I found "the dress" that I had to have for my baby shower. The shower was supposed to be a surprise but there were enough hints going around that I knew it was eventually coming. When I tried on the dress I imagined myself at my shower surrounded by my friends and family with my big belly filling out the loose fitting dress. It was strange to me because I never had this feeling while I was shopping for my wedding dress. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones but tears filled my eyes in the dressing room of that maternity store and when the manager came to see if I was alright or needed anything she laughed and said "I guess you like the dress?"

I took the dress home and hung it in the closet where it waited for the day I could wear it. I never took the tags off because I didn't want to be tempted to wear it for any other occasion. That was in May 2012... the tags are still on the dress. I unexpectedly had my son one month later.

This picture was right after I gave birth... they surprised me and allowed me to hold him for a few seconds. I was a mess because they had told me I would not be allowed to see him because he would be rushed to NICU. It was the most special surprise of my life. 

I had a relatively easy pregnancy. I didn't get sick and hadn't gained a lot of weight. My husband and I went on a "babymoon" that was planned before we got pregnant and while we were there my feet swelled but I thought it was the walking and bad food I indulged in. My blood pressure always stayed low until one night when I was reading and started to see spots. I knew immediately something was wrong. My doctors told me to go to triage immediately "just to be checked out." There they diagnosed me with severe pre-eclampsia. I was on strict hospital bed rest for what felt like weeks but was really only four days. They had me hooked up to monitors and IV's and monitored me around the clock. My baby never showed a sign of distress which was a huge relief. Everyone at the hospital told me I'd be there for a few weeks, which I later found out this was a lie to keep me calm... I guess it worked because my blood pressure returned to normal. They were able to administer the two steroid injections for my baby's lungs before telling me I was being induced. During this time I was oblivious to the fact that I was in danger. My amazing husband was my rock and worried for both of us so I could focus on keeping calm and holding out as long as I could. One conversation I clearly remember through the haze of emotions and drugs was picking baby names. We had decided on our girl's name before we were even married but we hadn't decided on a name for a son. We picked Evan which was fitting because we later found out that it meant young fighter and he was both of these things.

This is when he was one day old. I was still on bed rest so I hadn't seen him since the delivery room although our family was able to see him. 

Our son came into the world eight weeks and two days premature. Preemie moms do that if you didn't notice. We measure in days when others measure in weeks or months and measure in cc's or ounces when others measure in pounds. Evan was born in June and my shower was scheduled for two weeks later. Immediately I heard the questions. "Do we still have it?" "Would she want to go?" I pulled my mom to the side and told her that I overheard the questions and that I would need a reprieve from the weeks of NICU time I had ahead of me and it would be nice to see friends and family. I had no idea how hard that day would be from leaving my son for the day in NICU to realizing I could not wear my dress.

This is when they finally wheeled me in to see him. I was bawling and scared. I had seen pictures but I didn't know exactly what to expect when I first saw the NICU. I don't think anyone can be prepared for that moment. 

On the day of the shower we went to see our son and I kissed him and held him and cried. It broke my heart that I had to leave him for the shower but I couldn't back out. On the way to the shower we pulled over in a residential area so that I could pump. It felt so unnatural pumping before my baby shower... I was supposed to still be pregnant. I also made my husband take me shopping on the way to the shower to buy another outfit. I hated every outfit I had and there was good reason. I had been dreaming of that day in the dress I picked months before. Nothing felt right.

The shower was beautiful. I laughed and cried and thanked everyone for their love and support and warned them of the battles ahead. Sanitizing for months. Locking down over the winter. Not meeting Evan until he was a few months older than they expected. As beautiful as the shower was I could not wait to leave and hold my son again. That night I saw the dress peaking out from the back of my closet. I closed the closet door and tried to forget about the dress.

This is our first family picture. It was taken when Evan was four days old and Tim was doing Kangaroo care with him.
A few months later I decided it was time to pack away my maternity clothes. I remember packing them up wondering if I'd ever wear them again and thinking that I should still be in them. Most of the clothes meant nothing to me. A pair of jeans that I wore once or twice, a dress that never fit quite right, or a skirt that was too short anyway. But then I got to the dress. It was as beautiful as I remembered and still had those damn tags hanging on it. I sat on the floor crying. By this time my son was home with us and my husband came upstairs thinking something had happened to him. I felt stupid telling him that I was crying over a dress but he didn't say anything and just hugged me. There were many of those moments in the months after Evan was born. Times I would cry over seemingly nothing or sob uncontrollably over good things. It broke my heart that the dress never got its day to shine. I had let down my son and I let down that dress... or at least that is how it felt to me at the time.

Shortly after that night I went to a baby shower for a friend. This was a big step for me and was harder than I ever let on. I walked into the shower and the sister of the mother of honor was also pregnant ... wearing MY dress. No it wasn't really my dress but it was the same one. Worn by someone else... at another shower. I wanted to run out of the doors and cry and go home but I stayed strong and tried not to look at the dress the entire time. I felt rude but if she had any idea what was going on in my head she would have understood.

Finally, a picture taken to celebrate being nine months old.  I cannot believe how big he is getting and when I look back at pictures of where we started it's hard to believe he's the same tiny little boy in those pictures! 

Recently my husband and I discussed having another child... eventually. After Evan was born my husband said no more kids. After seeing me and his child both at risk he couldn't handle it. But after a few months with our son we knew we had to go through the rollercoaster again. Of course the thought of it all is scary. Will the baby be early? Will the baby be healthy? Will I be safe and healthy? Will I finally get my big belly? We cannot answer these questions. But there is one question I know the answer to. Will the tags finally be torn off that dress? YES!

Precious and priceless so lovable too, the world’s sweetest littlest miracle is, a baby like you.

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