Little Wookie is sleeping peacefully on my chest at the moment. Today's excitement must have worn him out. It's times like this when I get stupid and think I may actually want to have another child again. It will be a couple of years from now of course. Before, I just could not see it. Pregnancy was a completely miserable experience. The only good time was when I found out I was pregnant. We had been trying for 7 years. I had been told that I would not get pregnant without lots of medical intervention. Cris and I decided on the adoption route instead. We had finally gotten to the point where we were setting up the baby room, and getting the house ready for a home study, when we found out.

My period wasn't starting and I knew from prior experience, the best way to start it again was to do a pregnancy test. So here I was, waiting for another crushing disappointment, when the stick showed me pregnant. I showed it to Cris and we just stayed in shock for the rest of the night. It was a nice positive, no-mistaking response. The second one after that, same thing. Cris wouldn't believe it until we went to the OB/GYN and she confirmed it. I must admit that I was afraid this one would come out negative, dashing all of the hope and joy that I had just started to let myself feel.

Things were not to be easy. At exactly 7 weeks of gestation, the troubles began. My body tried to miscarry my little guy, twice, sending me to the ER each time. Each time, the doctors were expecting me to lose him. I did get a picture of Eric at 7 weeks old with his little egg yolk sac right next to him. He was the size of a blueberry at the time. I ended up on bed rest for the first 3 months trying to keep Eric inside.

The doctors think that it was the blood from the attempted miscarriages that caused Eric to be a preemie. It was probably a good thing in the long run for him, since the bleeding was acting as an irritant, and could have eventually separated the placenta from the embryonic sac. One of the doctors told me that is probably why Eric was so tiny, he wasn't getting enough nutrition with the placenta beginning to separate. Other preemies born at 24 weeks were at least 1 lb 3 oz, but Eric was a smidgen under a pound. I shudder to think what could have happened if he had gone full term. There were so many clots behind the placenta, that Cris told me he was "scared shitless. Omigawd, not only am I going to lose my son, I am going to lose my wife".

As for the debilitating pain, the doctor at the birth said that I had a tilted uterus. I'm not even sure how that is even possible. I had planned on talking about the pain to the OB/GYN on the next visit. What I did not know at the time, was that my water had broken on Monday, a very slow leak that we thought was merely pregnancy incontinence. On Thursday, very mild contractions started. Since everything else was early, such as Eric kicking at 15 weeks, I merely thought it was Braxton-Hicks. It went away after a couple of hours. Friday at around 2 pm, they had started up again. This time they were so painful and coming so frequently, Cris called the OB/GYN and she immediately sent us to the birthing center.

At the birthing center, they put me on a monitor to check if I was actually in labor. The monitor didn't show anything, not even a blip. Cris started timing when I said I was having contractions and they were 3 minutes apart. Still, the monitor showed nothing. Finally, after about 40 minutes, they did the finger test to see how far I was dilated. I was 3 cm. The birthing center went into emergency mode. Cris heard a nurse say that there was no way they were delivering a 24 weeker. Northwest Hospital is a Level 2 hospital. I needed a Level 3.

They filled me up with Magnesium Sulfate at Northwest trying to stop the labor. Magnesium Sulfate has the side effect of making you feel like you are being microwaved. At UMC, they gave me more MS. They did another check on Eric's status. The reason Northwest monitors couldn't detect the contractions? There wasn't any amniotic fluid left. I was given a steroid shot to help with developing Eric's lungs, increasing his chances of survival. Usually a person needs 2 shots in a 24 hour period. The MS wasn't working, they tried Morphine, as Morphine can also stop labor or at least slow it down long enough for me to get that second steroid shot.

My body wasn't ready for labor, it had never had the chance to prepare for this. The stress of the birth, both mentally and physically, was exhausting me at this point. The room's temp was set to freezing since I was burning up with all of the MS inside of me. I knew he was coming and it was breaking my heart. I was losing the child that I had prayed for. To come so far, only to have my body betray me. I had felt him move inside of me. I had seen him on the ultrasounds. I knew he was a boy. For godsakes, we had named him. He was a person, not just some abstract thing. After an Epidural, which did not work, Eric was born that day at 10:14 pm.

Cris and I talked about it before the doctor arrived. What would we do if Eric came today? Should we ask them to try and save him? It was probably the hardest decision I had ever had to make. Before that day, both Cris and I had read an article about babies who were destined to die and articles on preemies having so many medical problems that their quality of life was extremely poor. It was the article about the preemies destined to die that won out. In the article, it talked about how parents chose to save their children, just to have a chance to say goodbye.

So we decided, whether it was a lifetime or just a day, we wanted as much time with Eric as possible. Eric was born at 450 grams. The cut off weight for resuscitation is 500 grams. The attending doctor did not want to resuscitate Eric. She thought it was hopeless to do so. Eric's chances were 20% for survival. She was glad that Eric proved her wrong and chose to live by his own rules, instead of what is says in the medical books. Even coming home 1 week before his due date, is against the rules. Most 24 weekers stay in the hospital weeks after their due date, which is one of the reasons they would never give us a date for when he was coming home. They thought Eric would be in for so much longer. After all, that is typical for 24 weekers.

It is in awe, triumph and a deep profound love, that I glance at my sleeping angel. His face is so sweet and peaceful. He doesn't know yet how wondrous he truly is. Cris and I have become so much closer watching our little miracle grow. Sleep-deprived and emotionally drained, we hold him closer, thankful for every moment.