From the mom of a preemie

Today, November 17th, is Fight for Preemies Day. Sponsored by the March of Dimes, it's a collaborative blog effort to promote and bring attention to the worldwide issue of premature birth.

In 2006, my daughter was one of nearly half a million babies born too soon in the US. I had excellent prenatal care, I didn't smoke or drink or use drugs. What I did have, though, (unknown to me) was a condition called incontinent cervix (IC) in which the cervix, for some reason, does not stay fully closed during pregnancy. Tragically, in many cases this condition is diagnosed only after late term pregnancy loss. I was one of the lucky ones; my cervix was seen dilating on an ultrasound when I was 22 weeks pregnant, and I had surgery just a few hours later to sew my cervix shut. I then went on bedrest for the next nine weeks.

When I was a little over 30 weeks pregnant, my water broke and I delivered my daughter at one day shy of 31 weeks' gestation. She was 3 1/2 pounds at birth and 16. 5 inches long. She went immediately into the NICU, where she stayed for the next five weeks.

In some ways, looking back, I think my husband and I were lucky. Róisín was our first child; we didn't have another child to compare this to, so this became our version of normal. And she--and I--had the best medical care we could have asked for. But all of this is not to understate the real risks my daughter---and others born too early---faced. Cerebral palsy, brain bleeding, intestinal and heart problems, blindness, developmental delays...these are all risks of premature birth. These babies are not just "smaller than normal"; they face a whole host of medical issues that full-term babies almost never deal with.

Today, my daughter is healthy and thriving and for all intents and purposes, perfectly normal. We were lucky, but many other babies born at her gestation or even earlier, are not. If you are reading this, if you are pregnant, are thinking about being pregnant, or know someone who is, please go to the March of Dimes website and educate yourself about the warning signs of premature birth.

Random Acts of Randomness :-)

As I sit here writing this tonight, there is just the (very slight) chance that I'm pregnant. It's too early to test yet and my cycles are irregular anyways...so another week should prove or disprove the point. If I am...I'm happy about it but also nervous. My pregnancy with the wee one took a left turn at Albuquerque (to quote Bugs Bunny) about 22 weeks into it and was high risk the rest of the way through. Now that the docs know what the problem was, they can treat it earlier, but I'm never going to be one of those women who has a boring pregnancy where they go overdue; the best we're all hoping for is that I make it to term with a healthy baby. And if I have to go on bed rest again...well, nine weeks was a pretty good trade-off for the rest of the wee one's life, and it'll be the same with this baby too.

I spent a fair amount of time after she was born being upset---with my body, that I couldn't carry her to term (though there was nothing I could have done differently); with the universe, with fate or what have you. Distance and time and healing have led me to a different reality: life is...random. And you can't predict or control random events, you just can't. The wee one spent five weeks in the NICU through no fault of anyone's...and although I'd have not chosen to have her that prematurely, she's now a healthy, happy child, so it worked out okay in the end.

So if I am pregnant, I'll do my best, again. And the docs will do theirs. And maybe the outcome will be different, a healthy child that goes to term, or close to it. Maybe the random will work more in our favor this time. :-)

To My Daughter, on Her Birthday

Today, at 2:45 am, you turned 3. (When you read this, I know you'll wonder, as I used to with my mom, how in the heck I could remember the exact time, but trust me. When your life changes forever, you tend to take notice of the time.) They dried you off and your dad and I waited for your first cry and there it was---thin, but annoyed as hell. You were a fighter---but then, after all we went through just to get you here, I knew that.

When I look at you now, the only sign of your NICU stay is the couple of IV scars you still have---you might lose them in time, but I sort of hope not. They're your history, symbols of how strong you had to be before you even knew what strong was. And, incidentally, how strong you made us. You were there for five weeks, and every day we saw you, every day we took pictures. I'm glad we did, because to look at those pictures now and remember, is to see a miracle.

You're walking and talking and trying so hard to figure out your world that you astonish your dad and I both with how much you're understanding. And you've discovered the fine art of pouting, lower lip and all. Your dad and I are doing our level best to teach you right from wrong in spite of the lower lip tremble, just so you know. (And by the way, it's very cute, that look. We can't give in...but it's cute, just the same.)

So this is my wish for you on your third birthday: that you continue to be strong and healthy, that you love carefully but fully, and that though you won't always agree with us (I can guarantee that) that you'll never doubt how very much you're loved.

Happy birthday, Roisin. :-)