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!

www.itsapreemiething.com

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.