Friday, September 10, 2010

It's a Preemie Thing!

I want to share this wonderful site developed by another preemie mommy.

When Katie was born, I had drawers full of newborn clothes, but never imagined I needed preemie clothes. I found it hard to find clothes for her petite 3 pounds size and when she came home at a hefty 5 pounds. Only a few stores in our area carried smaller sizes. I spent too much time searching out preemie clothes stores and when I did find a store, clothing options were limited.

It's a Preemie Thing was birthed to allow families to spend more time with their little ones than searching the web for speciality preemie items needed in the NICU and at home.

We want all the time we can have with our babes. Happy shopping!

Monday, May 31, 2010

Itsy Bitsy

My husband Kent barely survived the birth of our first child. I give him huge credit for being present when he wanted to pass out. We all have our thresholds and I respect childbirth as a low one for him. As beautiful as it is to bring new life into the world, it's messy. The anesthesiologist made it every clear there was not enough space in the operating room for a mother who was having complications, a premature baby and a father who was going to pass out. Someone needed to be with me, in seconds it was my mother.

I knew life was not going to be the same after this moment. It was more than a second child. It was a strange combination of anxiety, peace, hopefulness and uncertainty. I had no concept of what it meant to have a premature baby. What would it mean for me emotionally, physically and spiritually? What would it mean for my family?

I remember parts of the conversation with my doctor before going into the operating room, other parts were a blur. The physician listed off a long laundry list of "What Ifs" including telling my mom if they needed to save my life due to complications, they would ask her to leave the room. The uncertainty of how much blood I lost when I hemorrhaged and if my uterus would clamp off were unknowns in this equation. I know, a tad more information than you wanted to know, but hang in there with me.

I never had surgery before my C-section. My greatest fear of surgery was feeling the blade cut through my skin. Whether or not our fears are based in reality, they are our fears. Mine ended up being real.
Quickly prepped for surgery, my mom gowned up, I kissed my husband and headed into the OR all in a matter of minutes. I had never been in an OR before, the whiteness of it all and the coldness of the steel was shocking. It was chilly and people were busily moving about in controlled chaos. My fear and anxiety were increasing, my prayers getting stronger.

Out of nervousness my mom and I sang children's songs, "You Are My Sunshine", "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and flirted with the anesthesiologist. "I can do this, I can do this," I kept telling myself.

The notes from our songs flew around the room, connecting a group of people working and anxiously anticipating the arrival of a little girl.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

No Going Back

The neonatologist never made it down to see us. Instead we were surrounded by a multitude of nurses, my OB doctor and the anesthesiologist. I felt a gush and thought I was hemorrhaging again. It wasn't blood, but my water breaking.

Now there was no going back. There were no more wait and sees, no more guesses what the next few weeks of my pregnancy would hold for us. It was safer to have her out in the vulnerable world then it was to keep her in my womb. Time stopped. I wasn't ready but was forced to realize it wasn't about me.

A tornado of activity began prepping us for an emergency C-section. I have always heard if a physician needs to get a baby out quickly, they can do so. Thankfully her heart rate was still strong and she wasn't showing any signs of distress. Just her mother, father, grandma and uncle.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

The Maddie's Of The World

My daughter's journey through prematurity is sadly one of millions in the world. My experience is one of the reasons I am passionate about fighting to prevent prematurity. As time has gone on though, my reasons for advocacy have expanded. Prematurity now has many faces, many stories, many outcomes.

I fight for the Maddie's of the world who did not get the chance to feel the warm sun on their face while riding a bike in the park. Who's mother Heather did not get the chance to celebrate her daughter's sweet sixteen birthday and dress her up for prom. And who's father Mike did not get a chance to walk his beautiful girl down the isle on her wedding day.

When I feel the fight is too huge or I think my voice is not worth being heard, I re-read this post and remember who I am fighting for.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

A Story Problem

Remember story problems in school? I was horrible at solving them. Still am. What happened next was like a story problem similar to this: a car and a bus set out at 2 p.m. from the same point, headed in the same direction. The average speed of the car is 30 mph slower than twice the speed of the bus. In two hours, the car is 20 miles ahead of the bus. Find the rate of the car. It makes my head spin.  

I thought I was getting discharged home to bedrest. I had one of two steriod shots to help her lung development and was suppose to get another one before I left. A nurse came in and said that she thought I should call my husband because they were sending down a neonatologist to talk with us. I asked her what a "neo-something" was and she explained it was a specialty doctor for the baby. Alright I thought. Must be protocol in these situations but I was a tad suspicious that something wasn't right. I called Kent and told him he better come to the hospital because a "neo-something doctor" was going to talk to us. Believe it or not, it was the first time I was really concerned the story in my head was not going to be solved the way I originally thought.

Kent arrived and not long after, my mom and brother. Story problem: if a pregnant mother has hemorrhaged less than 24 hours ago and the baby is not due for another 9 weeks, when will the baby be born?

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Avoidance of Words

I have struggled to write this post for a while now. I started it a million times only to rewrite it a million more, closing the post paragraph to avoid it. It is one thing to remember something in your head but I am finding it another to see it in words.Yet the words are helping me tell our story if not for the sake of Katie, but in hopes of building a supportive network for others across the world who are traveling similar paths.

We are one family, and know we are incredibly blessed to have a spirited child who survived being born 9 weeks early. But others do not have their sweet one to hold in their arms like we do. Some children and families are experiencing a whole array of hardships because their babe was born too early. Mothers just like me have done everything right in their pregnancy but still had to experience the pain of not going home from the hospital with their baby.

I can now say having a premature baby and almost losing my life was one of the best and at the same time the worst things to have ever happened to me. What a dichotomy and a genuine wake up call most people never experience in their life.

My father taught us it didn't matter how hard you fell, but how well you got up. And now I was being tested with how well I was going to listen to my father's words.

It was now early morning and I was wide awake. Angela, my angel nurse and I talked about our families, dreams, funny stories we remembered about our crazy Italian family and my fears. She held my hand, comforted me when I was overwhelmed from the day and educated me about what she saw on the monitors.

Kent left to go home to get sleep. He worked night shifts in Alaska and did not sleep much before he got the call to hurry home. We figured one of us needed rest in order to face the next day. We had no idea what it would bring but knew bed rest was part of the equation.

The hosptial was still, the night dark and I was alone with my thoughts. The sound of her heartbeat finally lulled me to sleep. I slept for a few hours and awoke with anxiousness to learn when I could go home. What transpired throughout the next few hours changed the course of my pregnancy, my heart and my life.

I wasn't prepared to have a premature baby and I certainly wasn't prepared to almost die.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Seven and A Half

Remember when I had said there were many things that went right during a time when many things went wrong? Just when I thought I was at the brink, exhausted, stressed and really wanting to start my day over, I recognized one of the nurses taking care of me was a family friend. Angela had switched her shift and came in for a co-worker. No accident. A friendly, comforting face when I really needed one, another angel.

Angela, the other nurses and doctor jumped right into gear. Instantly hooked up to monitors, I felt  relief when I heard my daughter's steady heartbeat. Oxygen and seeing my husband calmed my breathing. The doctor talked to us about our situations, the contractions and options. The contractions were a concern and based on the last few hours, we had no real prediction on what was going to happen. Our last resort to stop the contractions was a  magnesium sulfate drip. I really didn't want that option because the side affects are similar to a nasty hangover. I don't like a hangover on a good day and this certainly wasn't even close to one.

Once stabilized, I was transferred to a labor and delivery room with Angela right by my side. As a precaution they gave me a steroid shot to strengthen our daughter's lungs in case she arrived early. I am here to tell you, that shot hurt. And I needed another one in 24 hours. In my lack of knowledge, I didn't realize a mother gets a steriod shot if there is chance her child will arrive prematurely. A babies lungs are one of the last things to develop. Time in the womb is what a baby needs, there is a definite reason and process for why we carry a baby nine months. I was seven and a half months along.

I remember thinking all was ok. The contractions were going to stop, I was going to get some rest and I was sure I would be released home the next day, on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy.

Monday, March 22, 2010


“I need to push!” I screamed. A few other choice words to the youngster sitting next to me and he suddenly turned ghost white and moved to the front of the cab where he quickly called the hospital. The driver turned on the sirens and picked up speed. “Thank you gentlemen,” I thought to myself.

In labor and delivery at Swedish Hospital, I started to cry the ugly cry. A huge sense of relief came over me that I was now in the hands of people I knew, people who could take care of the two of us, and people who had dealt with and understood the scary day we had just lived through.

As the doctor and nurses gathered around me, checking us out and hooking us up, I caught sight of the face I had longed to see every second of the last 24-hours. Ray, my husband had arrived right when we got there. All was ok. We were all going to be ok.

Friday, March 19, 2010


It was almost midnight and very dark out with no traffic. As I looked out the back window of the transporter, I had a sense of where we were and how much longer we had until arriving in Seattle. My inner clock told me half an hour.

My contractions picked up. I kept thinking, “This isn’t happening.” Again, thank goodness I had already delivered another baby so I knew how to breathe through my contractions as well as time them. I looked at the young gentleman sitting next to me. I could tell was nervous about transporting a pregnant lady. I asked him if he thought I should time my contractions. He stuttered and said, “Yes.” As we counted together, all I could say to myself was, "This isn’t happening. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.” My pain was increasing and the contractions were coming faster and closer together. I was beginning to hyperventilate as my imagination finally connected the dots and began to run through the scenario of not making it to the hospital in time. I knew we would both die if I delivered without a C-section. I would be damned if my daughter and I were going to die in the back of a transporter after everything we had been through with a young, nervous paramedic watching us go. We weren’t going to die. Period.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Longest Day

October 4, 2007 was the longest day of my life. An unexpected life circumstance had tested my internal strength and faith and reminded me I was not in control. It would seem to be one thing to face that with yourself but when you have an unborn, helpless child growing inside of you, it takes the learning curve to a whole new level.

The nurses started to prep me for the hour drive to Seattle. As they unhooked the monitors that allowed me to hear my baby’s heartbeat, my calm began to dissolve. Mixed emotions flew out of control. I was scared. I was looking forward to arriving at Swedish Hospital but dreading the long transporter ride. I had made it this far and felt as safe as I could under the circumstances. Was the decision to move the right one? Was I putting my baby at risk? Dee Dee and her husband waited with me until the transporter came. My contractions were still hovering and manageable but I had been unhooked from the medication for 45 minutes before they came to pick me up.

Phew! Finally, I was loaded and ready to go. On the road, I was able to talk to my husband who had landed from Anchorage and would meet me at Swedish Hospital. We were on our way. There were two young gentlemen transporting me. One drove, the other sat in back trying to make small talk with me. At that moment, I wondered if he had never been with a laboring woman. Kind as he was, making small talk was not something I was interested in.

Sunday, March 14, 2010


I was now all alone in my hospital bed, trying to be brave when I really wasn’t feeling brave at all. I focused on the sound of my baby’s heartbeat. The fast rhythm brought me comfort but it also unleased a flood of tears. It was just the two of us now and I felt I had let her down. What was next for us? What was she going to do? What was I going to do? I knew bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy was a given but how would I do that? I had a child and a husband at home, I had a job, I had commitments. How could I do all that from a bed. Given the risks that faced me, I couldn’t imagine stepping foot out of this bed until a team of doctors had reassured me everything would be alright. Night came but I could not sleep. The hospital seemed eerily quiet after all the day’s chaos. I was coming down from my adrenaline rush, trying to process the day, and was happy I made it this far.

My best friend Dee Dee, and her husband appeared at my door and we shared a laugh about how my daughter’s personality was already beginning to reveal itself. Dee Dee always sees the positive side in crises. I didn’t want to admit how terrified I was (I don’t easily share my feelings with others) but Dee Dee knew how scared I was, which is why she drove down. I love that about her. She has amazing intuition and thank goodness she followed it even after I repeatedly tried to tell her I was ok. She knows me well enough to know we need no words when we are together, just the presence of being. She and my father are my first choice for companionship in an emergency. They are calm, level headed and make you laugh.

The shift change came at the hospital and we were notified an on call obstetrician would make his rounds in a little while. The three of us were becoming increasingly uncomfortable as we began to realize there were no obstetricians, pediatricians, anesthesiologists or surgery nurses in the hospital. They were all on call and it would take a minimum of half an hour to assemble a team if we went into distress. This reminder of our vulnerability began to gnaw at me. Whatever nerves I had left, frayed even further as the night doctor ran through the possible options of what the course of action would be if something happened. None of them sounded too promising to me. My husband was still not at my side and I was overwhelmed at the idea of making any decisions without him. Just when I thought my sailboat was coasting a little bit from the breeze off the shore, our plans changed again, for the better. I was able to speak to the doctor on call at Swedish Hospital and she agreed I needed a hospital that had the right staff and resources if I needed to deliver. I knew once I got there, then everything would be ok.

It still didn’t occur to me I could deliver early, but my instinct said I needed to be in a place that could handle my needs. I was a bit of a dreamer. I thought they would observe me and send me home to bed rest. That would be a piece of cake after this day!

Wednesday, March 10, 2010


The evening progressed with its up and downs. Plans came and went so often I stopped keeping track. Would I stay the night in the hospital here or an hour away in Seattle, would I be air-lifted to Seattle or  transported via ambulance, would I have this baby girl tonight? Lots of questions with no certain answers.

My father was with me by now and had received the very good news that my husband had managed to catch the last plane out of Anchorage. The final plan was I was going to stay the night in the hospital and my team would decide what to do in the morning. My dad and I were relieved because the thought of taking an hour car ride to Seattle where I lived, when we didn’t even know for sure if my bleeding had stopped or had just slowed down because I was lying down, was not something either of us wanted to find out. When the doctor came in and told me I was there for the night, for the first time in six hours, I sighed a breath of relief.

We seemed stable for the night and I convinced my father to go home. He refused but somehow I convinced him to go. I confidently told him not to worry, my husband was on his way, and I would not be alone if our circumstances changed in the middle of the night. No one knew what our daughter and my body were going to do. Even though I was still contracting, it seemed we were out of immediate danger. Just to be sure, I was given one more round of anti-contraction medicine and that kept the contractions at bay. Good thing this was my second child for I knew the signs of labor and what my body was cueing me during this journey. That seemed to be all I knew for sure.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Seinfeld Moment

I was given the maximum amount of anti-contraction medication but even so, I was still having consistent laboring. Plan B, C, D – were all discussed and finally, it was decided I should be airlifted to the hospital in Seattle but at the last minute the team decided I was not critical enough and I didn't get a ride. Not critical enough? My baby was probably coming 9 weeks early. To me, that was critical. I have never ridden in a helicopter and thought it might be an interesting way to take my first trip but then came back to reality and realized a medical evacuation is not a good thing.

I was fretting over not having any clothes to wear. I look back and think to myself, ”Where was I planning on going?” The medics had cut my clothes off and threw everything away, including my shoes. I lingered in a Seinfeld moment as I kept worrying about how I was going to get clothes in case they decided to send me home that night. I didn’t want to walk out of the hospital with a gown on that did not cover my pregnant body. I did had some dignity left!

It must have been clear to my obliging father that this was upsetting me because he made his way to Fred Meyer and bought me sweats and slippers. In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't going anywhere but it was my way of coping. New sweats and slippers was my way of clinging to the hope that everything was fine, that I was fine, and that Katie was fine.

Monday, March 1, 2010


My bleeding had stopped and my daughter was still cozily tucked in the safety of my womb. I was prepped for a C-section just in case we needed to roll. I was relieved to learn my husband was on his way, my father headed to St. Pete’s to be by my side and my mother headed towards my home to care for our son. My angels from work were still with me. Good. There was a definite sense of control. The initial winds of the hurricane had settled down. We were out of immediate danger and my goal was to figure out what to do next.

Lying down automatically stopped the bleeding but the doctors were not sure if the bleeding ceased because I was in a bed or the bleeding had truly run its course. In truth, I was not too keen on finding out the answer. To put it mildly, I was terrified. I thought since the bleeding had stopped, I had some time. What was I thinking? I started having contractions and they were a few minutes apart.

Time is something we either want to linger longer with or hurry and move through. I needed time, we needed time. My husband wasn't there, my father was still in route, my best friend and her husband were on their way but I wanted them by my side to hold my hand, wipe my tears, make me laugh and help me cope with the decisions we faced. My body was determining the time of what would happen and when. I remember staring at the clock on the wall in front of my hospital bed watching the hands move so slowly. Each minute seemed so long to me because it came with uncertainty for our future. Would the contractions stop? Would we be airlifted to Seattle? How long would my daughter survive based on the wild ride we had been on the past few hours? Would my husband make it in time? Would time be my friend or enemy?

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Alone Together

There was some discussion as to whether or not I should go home, spend the night at St. Pete's, or be transported via Medivac (air ambulance) to Swedish Hospital . The team made it clear that they did not specialize in high-risk pregnancies nor did they have a neonatal intensive care unit. There it was. Out of the blue Katie and I had become a high-risk pregnancy. If either of us crashed in the next little while, I would have to deliver via C-section and they would send us via a seven-minute Medivac ride to Seattle for further care. I knew in my mind that was NOT going to happen. I still had some control but the hurricane was picking up wind speed.

Have you ever felt alone even when you have had people around you? It’s not the first time in my life I have felt that way, but now, laying in a hospital bed experiencing something so unbelievable and out of my control, I felt desperately on my own.  I mulled over the events of the day. What had just happened? What was going to happen? I was in denial even as this was happening to us. I focused my attention to my daughter's steady heartbeat on the fetal monitor. We were alone together, with one heck of a story to tell.

Few days before our adventure began....

Monday, February 22, 2010


As I was rushed into the ambulance, the coolness of the rain hit my face and I saw they grayness of the sky. It had been a gorgeous fall day until the moment I was hauled into the ambulance. I had a huge urge to push and screamed, "She's coming." The paramedics calmly directed me not to push. A vaginal birth with placenta previa meant Katie and I would have both died. End of story. The paramedics were not going to let that happen. Here they were, another set of the many, many angels I would meet that day. Two years later, I wish I could personally thank those two heroes. They were seriously cute angels, who did help me take my mind off the grave situation, even if only for a few moments.

By the time I entered labor and delivery at the hospital, my physician's nurse had already faxed over my history and physical, so the team knew my story by the time I arrived. Nurses and doctors flew by my side as I was wheeled down the hallway, a circle of chaos. Collectively they uttured the words, "Whoa" when they saw how much blood I lost. It was overwhelming to see and know how much blood could come out of me. Blood that was neeeded for my daughter's growth and development. For her survival. How could my body have betrayed us both in that way?

My angel and co-worker, nurse Angie and another angel co-worker Trina, were right there by my side. They waited with me until my father arrived, trying to make me laugh and holding my hand as I cried. They were in constant contact with my husband, giving him updates and tracking whether or not he was able to get a flight home. I am forever grateful to them.

After a while the bleeding stopped. An ultrasound revealed the very good news that the placenta had not torn away from my uterus. Katie's heart rate was strong. I remember feeling such relief to see her and then a huge sense of sadness at the same time because she was so little and so young and already dealing with a trauma.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Change of Plans

There was a powerful adrenaline rush during the 24-hours leading up to Katie's birth. In fact, it was almost exactly 24 hours from the time I started hemorrhaging to when I heard the words, "She's not breathing." I said a lot of things went right in a situation that was wrong. The day before she was born, I was getting ready to leave work and thought to myself, “I should use the bathroom before I get on the freeway.” A small thing, but a very good thing when I started to bleed, I wasn't sitting in traffic. Time is of the essence when you start hemorrhaging. I was standing in the assisted living community where I worked surrounded by people who knew what to do in an emergency. And, I was right across the street from a hospital. Not the hospital where I planned to deliver, but was all the same a hospital with skilled professionals who could at stabilize us.

I was so scared but comforted by the many amazing people who suddenly showed up to help me. I am the one who is used to being in control and now I needed to rely on others. My husband was called and was frantically trying to get on a flight from Alaska to get home to us. Word had gotten out and people were praying for us. I did not completely comprehend the situation (a coping mechanism I am sure) and had no clue of what this meant for my baby and me. I assumed it meant I was going to be on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy. Little did I realize, Katie had different plans.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Category Five

Going with the flow isn't the first words that come to my family and friends’ minds when they describe me. I like order. I find peace in well-laid plans and pride myself in multitasking to accomplish a variety of things and to keep harmony in my being.

I believe we are given situations in our life that confront our fears, test our strength and define who we are as human beings. Sometimes life lessons come in the form of a light breeze and other times that breeze blows in as a category five hurricane. My hurricane began to pick up speed that rainy fall afternoon when all was going along as scheduled. Or so I thought.

Being out of control is unfamiliar territory for me and it is a place I have fought against my entire life. In some circumstances, it has served me well and in others it has caused discord. Out of control is an uncomfortable space for me and I knew the out of control nature of what was happening was putting my baby’s life at stake. Our job as mothers is to protect our child's life, especially in our wombs. I knew as long as my daughter was in the safe keeping of my womb, I could protect her.

But what do you do when your control as a mother and our amazing God given ability to grow life suddenly flings out of control? What happens when you are completely and totally betrayed by your own body? You quickly learn you were never in control in the first place.

Monday, February 15, 2010


It wasn’t even my carpet. I was at work when my "What if" happened, an hour away from my doctor and the safety of the hospital walls that I knew would take care of me. My husband was working in Alaska, which at the time might as well have been a million miles away. My son was at school and life was just going on for him as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But it was. I was only 31-weeks pregnant and hemorrhaging ruby red blood on a client’s carpet. The floodgates opened and I started going into shock.

I was incredibly lucky. I work in the health care industry and the people around me all knew what to do. They remained composed and collected. There were a lot of circumstances that day that could have gone very wrong, but the location where this occurred, was very right. I was with an RN whom I trusted and she was well aware of my pregnancy precautions. My angel, she remained calm and skilled at emergency situations. I clearly remember the look in her brown eyes as I asked over and over again if we were going to be ok. Her eyes were direct and intense but also comforting. Comfort was what I needed as it turned out, the roller coaster was just leaving the gate.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Ruby Red

Have you ever felt as if you were in an action movie where the bad guys are coming fast and feverishly toward you, the good guy? You're fighting them off but it's all in slow motion. That's what I felt like when my "What if" came true.

Blood. Lots and lots of red blood gushing as if my water had broken. Anytime you see blood, especially when you're pregnant, it’s usually not a sign that things are going well. I knew this bleeding was not good for my daughter and as I recall in my slow motion moment, I watched as my greatest fears came true in front of me.

Shock, terror, and time were standing still. Literally. I clearly remember a moment of lucidness as I observed the ruby red color of the blood and thought to myself, “This can’t be good,” From there, my mind observed that I should move off the carpet and onto the linoleum floor so it would be easier to clean up the blood. These thought patterns felt as if they took forever, but I believe it was only a few seconds. Looking back at that moment, those thoughts seemed to be the one thing I could control as my life was spinning out of control. I laugh at it now but at the time it seemed logical to worry about the carpet even as someone dialed 911.

Mommy Sense

How does a mom know? How does she know when her child is about to get sick, when they need a hug versus a timeout, or food to ease their crankiness? Moms have the Mommy sense.

I had a Mommy Sense this pregnancy was going to be different than my first. Looking back, everything was on track and there was no reason to think otherwise. The 20-week ultrasound gave a small inclination, again nothing hugely alarming, just watching. The ultrasound showed my placenta, which provides nutrients to the baby, was lying a bit too low in my uterus. It is a condition known as placenta previa. The doctor said it was very likely that as the baby grew, the placenta would move into place. If it didn’t, we’d likely have to have a C-section delivery. It was early in my pregnancy and no one was alarmed. Everything else with her was right on schedule. We were overjoyed with the idea of having a girl but my Mommy Sense said something in my life was going to change, and it wasn't just the fact that we were going to have a second child.

As time progressed, other ultrasounds showed the placenta was stubbornly not moving into its proper place. There are risks associated with this and the doctors educated us on the, "What ifs." Mostly the, ‘What if’ meant if the placenta ruptured, I would experience fast and significant bleeding. No worries, the C-section was planned for 37-weeks and we were on our way. But what happens when the, ’What if’ becomes your reality?

Take Notice

My journey to start this blog began three years ago. Prior to that, I never knew what the acronym NICU stood for. It turns out it stands for Neonatal Intensive Care Unit – a place I am now all too familiar with. I have to say, up until three years ago, I never had a life changing moment, nor had I had to dig as deep within my soul as I have these past few years.

I don't believe in accidents. At least I don't believe in them anymore. I may or may not have the foresight to understand why something happened or the reason a person entered my life , but over the past three years, I have learned to take note when something out of the ordinary occurs. When I have that unsure feeling or instinct in my being that perks my senses, I now pause and take notice.

A baby born at 31 weeks is too early and certainly not optimum. A few years ago I would have made a metal note and felt sad for a baby and family in that situation. Now, my family is one of those families. Our daughter is a premature baby statistic. At 31 weeks she was supposed to still be protected inside me, taking her time to develop, the two of us staying the pregnancy course. But apparently, our daughter didn’t know that. But I had a sense.