Each year as our March for Babies walk approaches, I relive my pregnancy.
I relive, pretty much, each aspect of highs and lows that I went through for 28 weeks and then ....the after.
A few weeks ago, Dear Husband and I were asked to speak at Brigham and Women's NICU to tell our story. We are the ambassador family this year for the Boston March for Babies walk and we are more than happy to help out anyone that we can. We feel fortunate we are given a platform where we can tell our story and share with others. Brigham NICU is particularly meaningful for us because that is where our sons were born. That is where Zachary took his first..and last breath. That is where I spent 6 1/2 weeks-holding onto my pregnancy.
So when Dear Husband and I entered the NICU, it was almost if we had never left. The instant smell of the purell (the green kind, not the clear) brought us back to a time where we had to look through an isolette to visit our son.
The corner position in NICU C is now being occupied by another preemie but that was my oldest son's "home" for the first 90 days of his life. It was in that corner where his isolette was covered by blankets so that the light didnt bother him. It was in that corner that I sat in a rocking chair, hours on end, staring at him through a hole. I couldnt hold him just yet because he was so fragile...so I spoke to him a lot, and held his hand. And cried. I cried a lot.
When we entered the lobby at BWH I passed by labor and delivery admitting. It was there where I went on so many occasions, begging to be checked out because I knew something was wrong. It was on my 22nd week of pregnancy that I was bleeding and losing so much amniotic fluid that they sent me home saying there was nothing they could do. They had to see what would happen. At 2AM that morning, when the bleeding intensified, I called Dr E who was on call that night and cried and pleaded to her. Please admit me, I begged. Please put me somewhere where I wont be agonizing over if my babies are alive or not.
So she did.
At 22weeks I was admitted and where I met with my high risk OB and her "fellows" Dr Doom and Gloom. D and G basically said to me I had no hope. There was no way that after PPROM (Pre term, premature rupture of membranes) with both babies, that they would survive. At 22weeks it was almost certain that after PPROM, I would shortly deliver these boys. And so, did I want to abort?
Im pretty sure I didnt hear what they said at that moment. Im pretty sure all I heard was a lot of negativity. But no, I yelled. No I did not want to abort. Clearly these Doctors did NOT know all that I went through to conceive (5 IVF cycles and countless negative EPT tests) and no, I was not willing to terminate this pregnancy and I was willing to sit in that hospital bed for as long as I needed to.
And so I did
And so I leaked amniotic fluid daily.
Hourly
I was afraid to get up from my bed because when I did, I leaked more.
I wasnt allowed to shower daily.
I wasnt allowed to walk the hallways.
I wasnt allowed to go home.
I was afraid to breathe.
And so I prayed. A lot actually (and im not particularly religious)
And I talked to the boys. I told them to hold on.
And I cried.
All the time.
I shut out a good part of my friends because I didnt want to tell them I was hanging in there--when I really wasnt.
So for 6 1/2 weeks I laid in that hospital bed.
In the corner room on the Maternal Fetal Medicine Floor.
And I ate hospital food and watched a lot of TV
And I took mid day naps and listened to my two sons heartbeats; 4/x day.
And on August 7th, 2003, one didnt beat anymore.
So yes, when March for Babies comes around each year, I look forward to the walk and the day filled with so many families who are with their preemie children; their miracle children.
And I do have that miracle child along side of me.
And Im thankful for him every minute of every day.
But Im just reminded that he is missing his brother along side of him
Im missing my first born son
He just couldnt survive the fight.
And somehow I feel that I failed him
That I did something wrong that I shouldnt have done
That if medicine didnt interfere maybe he would be with me today.
I feel sickened sometimes.
So sickened as I relive those times each and every year.
Each year as my oldest has his birthday I think of his brother who never got to have another birthday.
There are days I beat myself up..even still
But learned a long time ago that I cant live that way
That if I lived that way, well, I really wouldnt be living.
So here's to marching for the babies
here's to you Zachary.....
my first born
I relive, pretty much, each aspect of highs and lows that I went through for 28 weeks and then ....the after.
A few weeks ago, Dear Husband and I were asked to speak at Brigham and Women's NICU to tell our story. We are the ambassador family this year for the Boston March for Babies walk and we are more than happy to help out anyone that we can. We feel fortunate we are given a platform where we can tell our story and share with others. Brigham NICU is particularly meaningful for us because that is where our sons were born. That is where Zachary took his first..and last breath. That is where I spent 6 1/2 weeks-holding onto my pregnancy.
So when Dear Husband and I entered the NICU, it was almost if we had never left. The instant smell of the purell (the green kind, not the clear) brought us back to a time where we had to look through an isolette to visit our son.
The corner position in NICU C is now being occupied by another preemie but that was my oldest son's "home" for the first 90 days of his life. It was in that corner where his isolette was covered by blankets so that the light didnt bother him. It was in that corner that I sat in a rocking chair, hours on end, staring at him through a hole. I couldnt hold him just yet because he was so fragile...so I spoke to him a lot, and held his hand. And cried. I cried a lot.
When we entered the lobby at BWH I passed by labor and delivery admitting. It was there where I went on so many occasions, begging to be checked out because I knew something was wrong. It was on my 22nd week of pregnancy that I was bleeding and losing so much amniotic fluid that they sent me home saying there was nothing they could do. They had to see what would happen. At 2AM that morning, when the bleeding intensified, I called Dr E who was on call that night and cried and pleaded to her. Please admit me, I begged. Please put me somewhere where I wont be agonizing over if my babies are alive or not.
So she did.
At 22weeks I was admitted and where I met with my high risk OB and her "fellows" Dr Doom and Gloom. D and G basically said to me I had no hope. There was no way that after PPROM (Pre term, premature rupture of membranes) with both babies, that they would survive. At 22weeks it was almost certain that after PPROM, I would shortly deliver these boys. And so, did I want to abort?
Im pretty sure I didnt hear what they said at that moment. Im pretty sure all I heard was a lot of negativity. But no, I yelled. No I did not want to abort. Clearly these Doctors did NOT know all that I went through to conceive (5 IVF cycles and countless negative EPT tests) and no, I was not willing to terminate this pregnancy and I was willing to sit in that hospital bed for as long as I needed to.
And so I did
And so I leaked amniotic fluid daily.
Hourly
I was afraid to get up from my bed because when I did, I leaked more.
I wasnt allowed to shower daily.
I wasnt allowed to walk the hallways.
I wasnt allowed to go home.
I was afraid to breathe.
And so I prayed. A lot actually (and im not particularly religious)
And I talked to the boys. I told them to hold on.
And I cried.
All the time.
I shut out a good part of my friends because I didnt want to tell them I was hanging in there--when I really wasnt.
So for 6 1/2 weeks I laid in that hospital bed.
In the corner room on the Maternal Fetal Medicine Floor.
And I ate hospital food and watched a lot of TV
And I took mid day naps and listened to my two sons heartbeats; 4/x day.
And on August 7th, 2003, one didnt beat anymore.
So yes, when March for Babies comes around each year, I look forward to the walk and the day filled with so many families who are with their preemie children; their miracle children.
And I do have that miracle child along side of me.
And Im thankful for him every minute of every day.
But Im just reminded that he is missing his brother along side of him
Im missing my first born son
He just couldnt survive the fight.
And somehow I feel that I failed him
That I did something wrong that I shouldnt have done
That if medicine didnt interfere maybe he would be with me today.
I feel sickened sometimes.
So sickened as I relive those times each and every year.
Each year as my oldest has his birthday I think of his brother who never got to have another birthday.
There are days I beat myself up..even still
But learned a long time ago that I cant live that way
That if I lived that way, well, I really wouldnt be living.
So here's to marching for the babies
here's to you Zachary.....
my first born
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