24 Weeks 5 Days!!!

It's official! I am the most pregnant I've ever been! On Tuesday, July 25, 2006 at 8:41 A.M., our Precious Miracle was born at 24w 5d gestation weighing 1 lb 6 oz and measuring 13 1/4" long.

The morning of her birth, I woke with horrible contractions. I didn't want to say anything for fear they would make me deliver but the feeling was unbearable and I just knew something was happening. The resident, Dr. Mori, came in to check me and when I saw her blood-covered glove emerge from underneath my sheet, knew it was time.

Hubby, set to host an important work function later in the day, immediately got on the phone informing our mothers I was headed in for a c-section. I have never seen anyone jump into gear as quickly as my medical team did that morning and before I could even really consent to what was happening, found myself in the middle of a cold OR, shivering, crying and praying. The poor nurse who held me in position for my spinal comforted me in ways she'll never know as I longed for her to promise my baby would be okay. I disconnected from my body even more than I already had, feeling nothing, completely numb on all levels.

Hubby was brought in to be by my side at some point, but my perception of time was non-existent. I distinctly remember hearing Dr. Carlson demand, "scalpel". I give him tremendous credit for delivering our micro-preemie safely, while dissecting my lower uterine segment with a low-transverse cut. It wouldn't be until many, many months later, if not over a year plus, that I realized the full impact this much-preferred cut would have on my future pregnancy. All OB/MFM/Perinatal specialists who hear that I have this type of incision are just astounded. I am grateful for Dr. C's patience and skill.

My Girl's birth was so not the way I -we - had planned. It was supposed to be captured on video, set to the words of , "This Magic Moment". Instead of being magical, it was horrific, filled with so many unknowns that until recently, have just shaken themselves out, with a few remaining to unfold.

I didn't see my daughter when she was born, didn't hear her cry either. Hubby recalls seeing her tiny body with tooth-pick like limbs being carried to a warmer bed. He chose to look away, not noticing if she was vented immediately. I just prayed and prayed.

I will admit that once while on bed rest and once during her delivery, my body felt a calm sweep over with the feeling that everything was going to be okay. That's all I wanted was a healthy little girl, unaffected by her extreme prematurity, to grow up "big, strong, happy and healthy, from head to toe, inside and out, with an intelligent mind, good social skills, able-bodied, all her senses and a kind, loving, compassionate, understanding, giving heart." From that moment on, those were the words I prayed for my little girl. I prayed them each day in the NICU over her isolette and to this very day, pray them with her every single night before she goes to bed. Only now with my additional "Mommy knowledge" have added "good processing skills and good communication skills". Baby Boy already has the same prayer prayed for him.

The Chief Neonatologist was present for my delivery and while he has become someone very dear to us, at the time of birth, challenged us on the way we spell Precious Miracle's name. It's not like she has a real different name as it's a classic name that ranked in the 120's in terms of popularity. Although we were told she was the first with her name to ever be admitted to that particular NICU. I don't like trendy... that's why Baby Boy is still nameless, although I think we're getting there.

Anyway, I remember nothing of closing me up, nothing of recovery. I do remember the whirlwind of being wheeled into the NICU on my post surgical bed to see my baby for the first time. I couldn't touch her, as her tiny body was hooked up the oscillator, a high-frequency ventilator that jiggled her tiny, little body. Her skin was transparent, her eyes covered over , her body nestled in a "snuggle nest" on a gel heating pad, covered with a plastic tent within the confines of her Giraffe Bed, her home for the next three weeks plus. Probes and sensors were stuck and attached to her body along with tubes coming from her umbilical line. She was hooked up to monitors that beeped and flashed. It was sensory overload and the voice of our nurse, explaining things as I looked with glazed-over eyes, droned out to a hum. My tiny baby girl did not deserve this start in life. It wasn't her fault, it was me who failed her. I failed my baby.

So today, at 24w 5d, more pregnant than ever before, I am grateful that my cervix is holding strong at 3.2 and that I am able to be up and about, to snuggle my not-so little-anymore once micro-preemie who makes my life complete.

The sadness is that I know what 24w 5d looks like on the outside:

My Girl 24w 5d

The happiness, for the first time, I know what 24w 5d looks like on the inside, the way a pregnancy is "supposed to be":

My Boy 24w 5d

And the gratitude I feel for the man who helped me get to this point:

Dr. George Davis helping me celebrate 24w 5d!

And just an update on Baby Boy, according to today's scan, he's measuring 1 lb 9 oz. My fluid level is good and he's growing as he should. My cervix is long and closed and for that I am extremely pleased!