So Ian turned 2 on Monday.


Its amazing how time flies yet goes so slow some days.

For reflection I read back through the birth story I wrote just a few days out of the hospital. I remember sitting in my bed with the laptop trying to focus on the screen to type out what all was going on. I knew that if I didnt write down everything surrounding Ians birth then I would forget it. I was on such strong drugs for those few days that it took almost a week to get back to myself. It was if being stuck in that coming down stage but for days. I couldnt focus at all. I just remember sitting on the toilet crying because one minute I was pregnant and the next I wasnt but I had no baby to show for it. I refused to take pain medicine after a few days for the c-section and I only took a couple of days worth of blood pressure decreasing meds so that Ian could get the pumped breastmilk instead of the formula. Even then I had to throw everything away up until May 5th, I remember sending Jason to the hospital to throw the milk away because I couldnt watch it being done.

After Ian came home I was a mess. We had severe attachment issues and I had postpartum depression. It was an all around not so fun time. We got through it though but it makes me weary to have anymore kids. Some days we want more some days we dont think we could ever do it again. Its terrifying having a 2 pound baby and some times I find myself extremely upset thinking about those that have full term babies that just want to rush the process along.

Here is the birth story (its long)

On Thursday April 15th I went in for my regular ob-gyn appointment thinking it was just another day. That previous weekend (Easter) we had went out of town to visit family and during that time I had gotten swollen. Thinking that it was because I was so active during the weekend I shrugged it off, after all swelling is a part of being pregnant I thought. By Tuesday the swelling had gone down but I was now having a hard time breathing because I had gotten a cold. I was also having blurred vision but I didnt think that it was bad enough to make a fuss about. Well on Thursday at my appointment I learned that I had gained 10 pounds in the last month and that I had protein in my urine. The nurse took my blood pressure, looked at me as if she was a deer in headlights and said its high and walked out of the room. Its high is something that I had heard so many times (I always got white coat syndrome) that I just blew it off as if nothing was wrong. The doctor came in and told me that I needed to go down to the lab to have blood drawn and that I would have to do a 24 hour urine collection, he also put me on bed rest. So off to the lab my husband and I went. While sitting and waiting for my name to be called my doctors nurse came in and said that he had changed his mind and that he wanted me to be admitted into the hospital. So then off to the hospital we went. I was still thinking that everything was okay and that I would only be in there for 48 hours I had no reason to freak out. I had my blood pressure taken again and it was still very high (174/109) I was then taken to get an ultrasound. The ultrasound tech said that the baby looked small for his age and that my amniotic fluid was low. Now I was starting to get a little worried, at all my previous ultrasounds the baby had been over in weight (not by much). I was then taken back to my room and had doctors and nurses surrounding me and honestly the only thing I heard was the word catheter and that freaked me out. I knew something was wrong if I couldnt even go pee for myself. I was then told that I had severe preeclampsia judging by the amount of protein in my urine and my high blood pressure. This was a term that I had noticed many times in my pregnancy books but never paid much attention to it, after all it is only a 5-10 hance of getting it. I was told that they were going to monitor me for 24 hours but during that time I was to be on bed rest. Now was the time I started to freak out, at that point I had an IV full of magnesium, (to prevent me from having a seizure) catheter, monitors on my belly for movement and heart rate of baby, blood pressure monitor, heart rate monitor for myself and nasal tubes for oxygen. I then had my blood pressure taken every 5 minutes automatically and I received steroid shots for the baby. At this point I still didnt know what was going on and was very scared, not even being 29 weeks yet I was still not prepared. During that first 24 hours my blood pressure declined a bit but I still had really high levels of protein and the ph in my urine was very high. Friday night my doctor came in and said the only way I was to get better is to have the baby. He said they would hold off for as long as they could (Sunday was the max) but he needed to be delivered before my kidneys started to shut down, the only way to get rid of preeclampsia was to have the baby. That night my nurse came in and explained the c-section processes (she had 2 herself) to my husband and I. By this time I was nice and calm, we had gotten to talk to the NICU doctor and things were being explained in simple terms. I knew the baby would be born early and that he would be tiny but the whole time in my heart I knew everything would be okay, there is always a good side to everything even if its not the path you planned on taking.

Saturday morning I was awakened by the doctor telling us that they were doing a c-section that morning (10 am). This was the first time I had gotten out of bed in 2 days, getting into the wheelchair was an odd moment. My legs were so weak I couldnt even stand on my own. Waiting for my spinal was a very scary moment; I was sitting up on a table leaning forward on a nurse. All I can remember is wanting to throw up. The spinal itself did not hurt but the experience was one I will never forget. I was then strapped down on the table and my husband was brought in. During the surgery you cant feel pain really, its odd.you can feel things being moved around but that is it. Getting the baby out was the fast part (I didnt even know he was out) but the stitching you back up part takes awhile, this was by far the worst part. By that time my husband was off with the baby and I was left alone. I started to get worried again, I was having a hard time breathing and I was freezing and no one would talk to me to tell me it was normal. After being stitched back up I was taken to the recovery room where I had a lot of blankets put on me along with a heater. Ian was born at 10:57 am on Saturday April 17th weighing 2.. 3.1oz and 14 inches long. By this time I was telling myself over and over that this would be our last child, I in no way wanted to go through this ever again and I was so glad it was over. Well hours after the baby was born I had given in to the feeling of being a mom although at that point I had still not seen him. By then I was overjoyed and realized that he would not be our last child and the pain and scary parts where well worth it. Next time I will be much more prepared. I ended up seeing my baby for the first time on Monday, he is so small (a bit bigger than a regular beanie baby) but he is still my beautiful baby. I was released from the hospital on Tuesday but still on bed rest with heavy medication for my blood pressure, but oh so glad to be home.

Ian was on a ventilator for the first 36 hours of his life. He developed Jaundice shortly after that but he only had that for 48 hours. He also has Apnea and is on a CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) to keep the airway passages to his lungs clear. They started weaning him off the CPAP Friday night, his stats were above 96nd we are praying that they stay that way. He did loose a half a pound within his first week of life but is slowly packing the grams back on. He is already taking formula so he does have a feeding tube. Right now he is up to 7cc a feeding and is increased by 1cc a feeding as long as he tolerates it (he gets fed twice a day). He is doing very well and so are Jason and I. It is a bit saddening not being able to hold my baby and watching his monitors go off and on but we know he is safe and being taken care of very well. Being a mom to a micro preemie is something that never really crossed my mind before he was born but I just know this is how it was meant to be. Getting preeclampsia is something that couldnt have been avoided; they still dont know the cause of it. I am very thankful to have gotten it in my third trimester; because of this Ian had some time to grow. Every day is a step closer to him coming home and we keep praying that he will continue to grow well. Its already been a week and time is flying by, now all I have to do is get his nursery ready for him to come home. He is a very special baby, according to the March of Dimes statistics for the years of 1999-2001 only 1.6

And the Nicu story

So last time I wrote about Ian was a week after he was born (April 24th) and now I am writing the day before he comes home. This is a recap of our time at NICU (mostly my feelings about it) that has been a scant 6 and weeks. I am going to miss the NICU; to us it is home now. But finally I get to bring Ian to our home.So today/tonight I finally get to room in with my baby and take him home tomorrow. There will be no rush to the hospital with me in labor, there will be no surprises of what he looks like, and there will be no flowers and wonderful labor. These are all things that I never realized until I had Ian. The whole time being pg you prepare for birth, you worry about your water breaking in public, you wonder if the baby will latch on when he is born. You prepare for normal labor; you see it all in your head. The rush to the hospital, the checking in, calling family, laboring and seeing your baby and holding him for the first time, family finally coming to meet the baby. All the flowers and cards, mums and well wishes. Its all there in your head, the perfect birth. Sadly it doesnt always happen that way and it is something that you are never quite prepared for if it does happen that way. From the middle of January I kept up with a micro preemie that was just born (Ty). He weighed 2 lbs and was 13.5 inches (a bit less then Ian) and was born at 25 weeks. I admired the family and baby; they had and still have a lot of strength. I know that if I hadnt kept up with Tys story I would have been lost when it came to Ian. This was one way I believe God prepared me. Reading this babies story made me aware of severe pre-maturity, before then I thought preemie was 32 weeks and anything before that was not likely. I had no clue that micro preemies existed, much less survived.The day I had Ian was odd. I was really drugged up and stayed that way for a few days after he was born. It was by c-section, looking back on it now I realized how much I missed. I didnt even know he was born until Jason said something about it a minute or two later. After that Ian was whisked away to NICU, a place he would stay for over 6 weeks. The day he was born is a blur to me, I remember family coming in and telling me about Ian, Jason took a picture of him and brought it to me to hang on the wall next to my bed. I looked at the picture; in it was a tiny little boy with tube down his throat breathing for him with monitors and IVs all over his skinny body. When no one was in the room I would look over the picture and just cry. I didnt want anyone to know my true feelings about Ian and to this day my family still doesnt really know them. In my heart I had mixed feelings, I would think back to Ty and how he was the same size when he was born, I thought of all the ups and downs he had. I was so scared that we were on the same path; I knew I could never be as strong as his mom. I had no idea how I was going to do it. Instead I chose to hide behind my feelings, I tried not to cry around people, and I tried to be strong. I didnt want anyone to see how scared I really was.Three days after he born I was allowed to go home. I was so relived, I could finally cry in peace. I could go home, put my head to my pillow and sufficiently get it all out. So I did, and afterward I felt much better. I began to realize how much we were blessed; I tried to stop thinking about the bad and tried to focus on the good. I began reading a lot of info on preemies and reading stories about other preemie moms. I wrote his birth story and made a website. The feedback I got back helped me a lot, everything that was posted about him to us I saved. I plan on making a memory book and printing all the comments we got to give him when he gets older. The kind words hit me hard and knowing that so many people were thinking about him calmed and assured me.I tried to learn all the NICU terms and the history about NICU. I gathered as much information as I could so if one of the things that I had learned about happened I would be prepared. I began to feel much more comfortable about him.Ian was doing very well very fast. His first 3 weeks of life were spent in level III of the NICU. That was the scariest and hardest time for me. To get to NICU you had to walk past l&d and the regular nursery. Every time we went to visit him I would try to stare at the ground while walking. I wasnt ashamed of my baby at all, it was just hard to look up and see babies that were 4 times his size being held and loved while I still hadnt held my baby. These feeling quickly turned for me, instead I was the one standing in NICU holding Ian while the other mothers were standing there wishing they could hold there babies. I learned that while size does matter a bit its not what determines the health of the babies. A lot of the babies that were around us in level III were huge compared to him but still on a ventilator. It was so sad, here I was sitting and holding my 2 lb baby while the 6 lb baby across from us had never been held by his or her mom. I realized we were so very blessed.Thankfully a couple of days after we started holding Ian we were transferred to level II NICU. There were a lot less babies on that side and all were being held and fed. This was so much easier on me, I didnt want the mothers in level III to look at me like I looked at the mothers at the regular nursery, and I didnt want to make anyone feel bad and or uncomfortable. Ian was only at level II for about a week until we were transferred to another hospital. Thier NICU was for growing babies that didnt really need much help. This is where we have been for the last few weeks of Ians hospital stay. He learned how to take a bottle there, we in turn learned how to change, feed, bathe, give medicine, read monitors, swaddle, CPR, put on leads, and a whole lot more. Not only did we learn how to be a parent in the NICU we also learned basic nursing skills. I cant believe he is going home tomorrow. The 6 weeks went by so fast and I still havent even had my shower yet. Last night we stayed longer then we normally do and talked to the nurses. We have gained not only a baby and a plethora of knowledge but also good new friends; I am going to miss it.

Today

Always Màthair

HAPPY BIRTHDAY IAN, and a late welcome to this world!

What a wonderful log you kept, I am impressed, and you brought back memories to me of Harley’s birth and all that I went through.

Isn’t life wonderful and mysterious!

Posted by Always Màthair on April 20, 2006 – Thursday – 2:03 AM
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Karma


I am sure everyone has a friend whos parents told them embarassing stories from their childhoods. I had my neighbor who I played with for hours everyday who, “pooped on a rock”. I have a friend who fell asleep on the toilet, who walked on in their parents having sex….you get the picture, right? So one friend, whose story will forever be in my head is that one day while taking a nap she took her diaper off, pooped and played in it (and I think ate it?). Well for years I have laughed at that story never once thinking I would be in the same position as her mom, only 25 years later. Ah, Karma!

So yesterday I put Ian down for a nap and about a hour and a half later I heard him talking. So I opened his door, flipped on the light, and looked a the floor where a dry, unstuffed wonderoo (diaper) lay on the floor. Oh, and did I mention it stunk! I didnt even have a chance to get mad (which I wouldnt have anywho, poop is easy to clean and lord knows by the time you have a 2 year old you and poop know each other well). There is Ian, diaperless, with his “my mom is weirder that your mom” shirt on, standing at the end of his crib with the biggest smile I have ever seen, covered in poop, head to toe. It was in his hair, in between his toes and fingers, all over the crib and the wall, all over his face (and yes, I think he might have tasted it). It was everywhere and all I could do was laugh. So I go and start a bath, call Jason to see how close he was to home. Give Ian a bath and so on.

So this morning was a new day, the house had aired out of poop smell and I was going to make sure Ian had a onesie on all day so he wouldnt take his diaper off. So first thing in the morning I grab a onesie, a el bee (diaper) and a kiwi (cover), diaper him up and send him on his way. He hands me the phone (its an intercom) and runs to the hallway so I can talk to him (we do this all the time). We talk and sing back and forth for almost 30 minutes and then he comes running into the living room with a poopie diaper in his hand. Ugh. So I say thanks, grab a wipe and put a new one on with SHORTS because he doesnt know how to pull those down yet.  We go throughout the day, he does great, Jason puts him down for a nap with shorts on, he sleeps for close to 3 hours and then wakes up (be we never heard him and the monitor was all the way up) and once again, takes his diaper off, poops and then plays with it.

So thats 3 times 24 hours where he has taken his diaper off to poop. We got him a stool and a toilet insert and I will see if he is interested in it at all. I am sure it sounds bad but I am not ready to give up the diapers. Most of them have been customs, special ordered for no ones bum but Ians. They are not a piece of plastic thats just thrown away to sit in a landfill for over 500 years. They are all made by hand by mothers from all over just trying to pay the bills. Its a bittersweet thing, I had no idea how much Ian was growing up until today….and it makes me sad, happy sad.

So be forwarned, karma can be a…….well, poop!

Here are our lovely pics from yesterday (you have been warned, they have poop in them).

——-Comments

Always Màthair

yep mom…I think he may be trying to tell you that he is tired of crapping in his dinky-doo’s!

I know it is a wonderful thing to experience our precious angels growing, but knowing each step is taking them one day closer to being their own person is sad for us moms!

Hang in there, you have a few years before that will roll around, enjoy the ride!

Posted by Always Màthair on April 7, 2006 – Friday – 10:10 PM
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Nicole

Eww, yuck, and, might I add, eww.  Poop.  It stinks.  But really- that is the first kid I’ve ever seen that grew a rubber duckie instead of a penis.  I hope my baby has a rubber duckie.  That is so much more interesting and I bet it’s a heck of alot easier to clean.  And, if your kid is really talented, it squeaks.  Now, I have seen kids on blogs that had smiley faces instead of penises but, I have to say, that is a little passe.  Ducks are really much more fashionable this season.

2 kudos for the duckie.

Posted by Nicole on April 8, 2006 – Saturday – 6:15 PM
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Nicole
Forgot to add- Megan has had great success with the “Duct Tape” method.  For a couple of months, she literally duct taped the diaper closed on Carson.  No joke.  It worked.  ‘Course, she had to have scissors to get it off of her…
Posted by Nicole on April 8, 2006 – Saturday – 6:17 PM
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Karry

Your ds is so cute.  It looks like he had fun playing in the poop.  My mom tells a story of me doing this as a baby as well.  So far none of my kids have done this in the crib, but my youngest is known to take off a poopy diaper while running around the house.

Posted by Karry on April 8, 2006 – Saturday – 8:44 PM
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Prego

that one looks easy compared to the mess Connor left once, sigh. I had to throw out sheets. blankets and several stuffed animals

Posted by Prego on April 12, 2006 – Wednesday – 2:17 PM
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