Milestones

Last week the latest addition to our family tree turned six months old. Not that it’s all that significant of a milestone, mind you, but Baby Sam’s health and his very existence is seen as something of a miracle in our household... for a number of reasons.

First and foremost, we’re not one of those couples who are blessed with easy or pleasant pregnancies. Getting pregnant was never an issue – we have friends who wrestled with fertility challenges and fully understand how gut-wrenching that can be – but staying pregnant for the full-term was not our forte.

When in our mid-20s, we, like millions of other couples, had to contend with the loss and pain of a miscarriage. Then my wife developed preeclampsia when pregnant with my oldest son, resulting in a delivery room drama that still haunts my dreams to this day (a blog posting for another day perhaps.) Pregnancy three resulted in my beautiful daughter, but not before my wife was placed on bedrest for the last 10 weeks of the pregnancy due to low amniotic fluid levels and other issues.

After everything we went through to bring #1 into this world, it took a good deal of pleading from my wife and more than a few conversations with a high-risk pregnancy specialist before I warmed-up to the idea of baby #2. After the stress and drama of #2, I was resolved to count our blessings and consider ourselves out of the baby-making business for good. The missus and I have been together since we were 19, married since we were 24 and I didn’t want to take any more chances.

I had an appointment booked for “that” procedure with a urologist, but as we pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, I couldn’t bring myself to go in. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anxiety. Just a calm but persistent (and insistent) voice in my head saying “don’t.” When I tried to ignore it – to override it – I literally couldn’t bring myself to turn off the engine or open the car door. Strangest damn thing I ever experienced, to be truthful. So my wife went into the lobby, cancelled the appointment and we drove home chatting about the sudden and unexplained change of heart. 

As time wore on, the peculiarities of the events of that day faded and we settled into our normal daily routines. Then, right around this time last year, we learned that Sam was on the way. I was editorial director for a magazine at the time and was at a press conference in Las Vegas when the call came in. My wife was hysterical, I felt like I was hit by a truck and, in an instant, the collective fears amassed by the trajectory of our three other pregnancies came flooding back. Given our age, we would have been considered “high risk” even if the other pregnancies went along without a hitch. Now what?

Much to my surprise, the pregnancy was going along perfectly. My wife didn’t have the usual bouts with morning sickness. Every appointment and ultrasound was a wonderful and positive experience. She felt great and was as radiant as ever. Life, it seemed, was good. Then another surprising phone call came along…

I had left the magazine and was a month into my new job (with a company I adore, by the way) and was in mid-presentation when my cell phone kept buzzing. Since this was one of my first times presenting in front of the CEO, I ignored the calls and kept on rolling. Ten minutes later I wrapped-up, excused myself for a few moments, then ducked into the hallway to check my caller I.D. Sure enough, it was my wife. I called back.

“Honey. Are you okay? What’s up?”

“Now don’t freak out, but I’m having some pretty strong contractions.”

“Wow. We still have a ways to go. Are you sure they’re not just Braxton-Hicks?”

“Well, I’m timing them. The last one took my breath away.”

“Holy s***! I’m coming home.”

“No! I don’t want to go to the hospital and end-up getting sent home. Just sit tight and answer the phone if I call again.” 

I reluctantly agreed, but 30 minutes later I was racing home to pick her up, then racing to a friends house so they could watch our kids, then racing to the hospital. By the time we got to the emergency room my wife’s contractions were less than seven minutes apart. Ten minutes later she was hooked-up to a monitor. One hour later she was meeting with the anesthesiologist. Ninety minutes later I was sitting by her side during the Caesarian.

Sam made his appearance at two minutes before midnight on April 29 of this year, a full six weeks ahead of his gestational due date or four weeks in advance of our scheduled Caesarian. He weighed-in at 5.5 lbs and soon dropped down to 4.5 lbs, still pretty robust as far as preemies go. He needed a bit of help and received some lung development enzymes and a stint on a ventilator during his first 24 hours but, aside from some eating issues, he was pretty healthy. He remained in the special care nursery for less than two weeks but was still quite the peanut when we brought him home. (My other two kiddos were small as well, but Sam was downright tiny.) 

There were some tough days and some long conversations during those drives between our house and the hospital before he came home, but I was a bit surprised at how well we made it through the ups-and-downs of that period. Perhaps its because we had our other two kiddos to worry about and care for, but I believe the underlying reason why we made it through without one or both of us hitting a complete emotional meltdown was because our prior experience with premature babies was of an extreme nature.

My dearest friend and his wife gave birth to their first child (our Goddaughter) at 26 weeks and the baby weighed a scant 13 ounces. Yes, you read correctly, OUNCES. As in slightly heavier than a Coke can. We were able to see this child from the very beginning of her life and witnessed both the incredible frailty of life as well as the remarkable resilience of the human body and spirit… all wrapped into a little package. Simply amazing.

After being part of that experience, it was tough for us to get too ratcheted-up about the daily ebb-and-flow of Sam’s eating patterns or other health-related metrics. We knew what was capable through the miracles of today’s medical advances and we had supreme confidence in the wonderful nursing and pediatric staff at the hospital, so we were able to keep positive. Still, the sensation one has when staring at an empty crib in the nursery at home is not a pleasant one. I can only imagine how my wife must have felt, the absence of the familiar kicks and flips of the life growing inside her must have amplified the emptiness of those handful of days when she was home from the hospital but Sam was not. It’s an experience that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy and my heart goes out to anyone who has lived through it. 

The key, however, is that you DO get through it. The sleepless nights spent because the baby isn’t home with you, followed immediately by the many more sleepless nights you’ll spend after the baby’s home, seems like an eternity when you’re in the thick of it. Then you blink and the next thing you know they’re sitting up in a high chair, eating Gerber Stage 1 and smiling from ear-to-ear. 

November is Prematurity Awareness Month and whether you’re the parent of a preemie, are currently pregnant or plan to get pregnant in the near future, I urge you to take some time to learn about this increasingly challenging problem. And if you don’t fall into any of the categories mentioned above and think that you’re not affected by premature births, think again… preterm babies typically require hospital stays and medical attention which is well north of what is required by full-term babies… and that can have a direct impact on the insurance premiums we all pay.

So here’s to Baby Sam and all like him. Here’s to every parent who has lost sleep. And last but not least, here’s to organizations like the March of Dimes and individuals like Kristie McNealy, MD who are helping to not only raise awareness, but offer the kind of insight and advice necessary to ensure that no parent feels like they’re going it alone.

 

Comments

[Nancy]

What a great story. My son is a 25 weeker and is now 3. We struggle daily with the bouts that prematurity has inflicted upon our house hold. Somedays I wonder what or how I am going to do it all.

Prematurity really is an epidemic that no one should have to go through.

Nancy Brown

[MoDBev]

Wow. Your story is terrific. Thank you so much for posting about your little ones and mentioning the March of Dimes. November is Prematurity Awareness Month, every blog post creates more buzz.

[t5m]

Awesome story...amazing. My jaw literally dropped when you mentioned your friend's 13 ounce baby...wow.

[susannah]

Happy 1/2 Birthday Sam! And congratulations to the entire family.

Thank you for sharing your family's story. Awareness and education can only help the health of babies!

(And a quick shout out to the BWH NICU nurses -- we could have never made it thru our family's ordeal without them! :)