Fight For Preemies!

Today is Prematurity Awareness Day.

When I got pregnant, was I aware that 1 in 8 babies is born prematurely? No. I was aware babies were born prematurely (it's not like I live in a box) but I certainly didn't know the statistics. Did I figure that my baby would be that 1 in 8? No way!

I thought we followed all the "rules" of pregnancy. Anyone that's been around me, knows that my alarm on my phone used to be set to go off at 4:00 pm everday to remind me to take my birth control. When we decided to try for a baby, I replaced that birth control pill with a prenatal vitamin months before I was pregnant. I hate vitamins but I took those ones religiously. I cut back on the amount of caffeine I had in a day - not that I had a lot anyways, but I figured less wouldn't be a bad thing. I read the pregnancy books. I ate vegetables like crazy. Once the weather got cold, Josh hid my flip flops. I followed his silly rules (with the exception of once, my feet were never more than 12 inches off the ground). I drank so much water, I thought my eyeballs would float.

At a doctor's appointment when it was mentioned that if the baby hadn't come by May 20th (his due date was May 22nd) that I would have my membranes stripped, I was adamant about waiting it out til his due date. And for days after, if necessary. What difference would two days make?

Despite following the "rules", at 2:17 (or 2:47, I still can't remember which) a.m. on April14th, 2009, my water broke. Because it wasn't the huge gush that happens in movies, I was more convinced that I was one of those pregnant ladies that pees themselves all of a sudden.I had checked the time only because in our child birth class the week before, we were told to take note of various things if our water breaks. And though I didn't think that was what happened, I figured I should have my bases covered.

The next morning, I got up and ready for work like I do on any other day. By the time I got to school, it had happened again. When I called the clinic to leave a message, I used the words "I think I've sprung a leak, if that's possible." I called Josh to ask him to run some errands for me on his lunch hour, just in case I had to go in, but I didn't really tell him what was going on. I just told him that there was some weirdness I was concerned about, but it wouldn't be a big deal. By then, I had made a list of the things I had planned on doing after they released me from the hospital and had a list of things I needed to do on the off chance they made me stay.

Two and a half hours later (yes, I waited that long. I finished out the school day since the nurse didn't tell me to drop everything and rush to the hospital), I checked into the ER for observation. While I was getting changed into the fancy robe and everything, I asked the nurse what would happen if my water had broke and how they "patch" it. She looked at me like I was slightly crazy and I told her if medical science can stop my sister-in-laws contractions on more than one occasion, it sure as heck should be able to patch up this leak I have going on.

By the time I got the results back from the tests to see if my water had indeed broke, my parents (who happened to be in town) and Josh (who happened to stop by to see if I knew anything) were there with me. Poor Josh had maybe 2 minutes of conversation before the doctor announced I would be induced that way to prevent infection in both the baby and I.

By the time Jax was born at 12:55 a.m. on April 15th, we had met with I don't even know how many NICU doctors and nurses that talked to us about what to expect. We were told not to expect to hear him cry when he was born, that he probably wouldn't be able to breathe on his own. I had read in a pregnancy newsletter email that week that babies around 35 weeks of gestation were under 4 pounds. One of the NICU nurses said that babies under 4 pounds would probably have more medical issues to be dealt with. In my head, I had a pretty serious conversation with Jax about how he had better be more than 4 pounds and that if he wasn't, he didn't have much time left to bulk up. We were told that most NICU babies should expect to be in the hospital equal to the amount of weeks they were early.

I knew as soon as he was born, and he cried (He cried! They said he wouldn't, and he did!) that he was going to be a stubborn little fighter. And he really is. He was given a dose of artificial surfectant to keep his lungs from sticking. They told us to expect things to get better, and then to get much worse. We waited for the much worse, and it never happened. Everyday, he fought and got better. Granted, it felt like we paused on our path, but he was constantly pushing forward.

In the 20 days that Jaxon spent in the NICU, Collette, from the March of Dimes, checked in with us often to see if we needed anything, if we had any questions, how we were doing. She invited us to family activities that were planned for NICU families to help us connect with other families going through what we were going through. After our NICU stay, if we ran into her in the halls at the hospital, she remembered us.
Today, Jaxon is 19 months and 2 days old. Then, he was 5 pounds 6 ounces. Today, he is 26 pounds, happy, and healthy.
Today is Prematurity Awareness Day. I have "donated" this space on our blog to the March of Dimes for their fight for preemies on this day. Hundreds of people are blogging their stories today or wearing purple to show their support. The March of Dimes does so much for families of preemies, and did so much for us, it just seems right to help them out too!

If you would like to read more stories posted in support of the March of Dimes fight for preemies, click on this link.