Sunday, June 28, 2015

The power in a day

Ask any preemie mom and they will tell you that just one day can make a huge difference.  The difference between life or death.  The difference between the medical community fighting for your child or not.  The difference in the length of a NICU stay.  The difference in the long term outcome of that child.

We wear those days on our shirts like a badge of honor.  Even subsequent pregnancies is not just a birth day - but a gestational age. 

Elisa was 29 weeks 1 day when she was born.  Aidan was 37 weeks.

That 1 day is important.  Because it was one day longer I held on and kept her in.  It's almost for me a sign of just how much more I tried to kick prematurity (and pre term labors) butt.

I shot this yesterday at 29+1.  To celebrate this victory.  I don't need artists renditions of what this one looks like at this point in her development.

I watched it in person.

But every day now is a victory.  A victory against prematurity.  A victory that I've made it this far.  I can't say it's the longest I've ever been pregnant.  But it's the longest I've gone without symptoms of pre-term labor (we won't count Wednesday's episode of contractions every 2-3 min since I was already in the hospital for a headache ;) - but even then, at 28+5, that was the longest I'd made it in either before having to go to L&D).

I watched her grow from this point on until now.  Showing prematurity that it's just a word, not a definition.

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Curse you, triggers.

That come out of left field.  With no known rational trigger.

I'm 27 weeks and 2 days with this baby girl.  It's not even a big "milestone" day.  By this point with Elisa, I was "stable" and just cruising towards my first goal of 28 weeks.  We were settled into what was going to be our "permanent" home until I delivered at 37 weeks, and had settled into our pattern of regular contraction monitoring and NSTs.

So I have no idea why, in the first few songs of church this morning, I was suddenly confronted with image after image of that room.  And confronted so strongly with an unrelenting slideshow that so overtook my eyes I could no longer see the room around me.

This is my Father's world
Oh let me ne'er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong
God is the ruler yet
This is my Father's world
Why should my heart be sad
Read more: Gungor - My Father's World Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

It wasn't until these words cut through the haze of images that I was able to take a deep breath and begin to return myself to the reality of where I am NOW, not where I once was.

Sometimes, I think of how much of a miracle it is that I am actually here.  After losing two pregnancies before finally getting pregnant with Elisa, and then her sudden, dramatic (yes, and traumatic) entrance into this world, I find it a miracle that I ever found it in me to try again.  Once.  

Much less twice.

Photo courtesy of Wolfinger Photography

And yet, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.  These two, soon to be three, are my world. And though they take my sanity, my energy, my lifeblood, they are worth every second.

I don't know that I will ever truly be able to put into words the mixture of emotions I go through with every pregnancy.   Especially in those moments when I'm there...but not really there and in those moments in the past.  It seems like every moment in my pregnancy is a reminder of something.  And as much as I try to live in today and for today, those moments seem to forever define my pregnancies.

And so I take each day as it comes.  And be thankful for each and every day that passes by and she's still in there.  The misery, the pain, the exhaustion.  Every moment will be worth it.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015


Maybe it's a part of healing.  Maybe it's hormones.  Who the heck knows.  But this.  This song spoke to me.

There's a light I still see it
There's a hand still holding me
Even when I don't believe it
I might be down but I'm not dead
There's better days still up ahead

Even after all I've seen.  There is hope in front of me.

Hope.  The one thing I clung to all these years.  The one thing that has never gone away.

There's a hand still holding me.  Even when I don't believe it.

Life has knocked me down many times in my 34 years.  But it hasn't killed me yet.  And as long as that is the case, I will keep getting up.  And I will keep moving forward.

There's a hope in front of me.  There's a light and I still see it.  Even after all I've seen, there is still hope in front of me.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015


I put this video together over a year now and was reminded of it as I drove to my 25 week appointment and the song I used came on the radio.

This song, from the moment I heard it, was Elisa's anthem.  And no matter where I stand with my faith in God, still is my anthem.  God moved mountains with her.  God showed me that impossible IS just a word, through her.

I don't know why I've never shared it before.  I put it together for the preemie support group Elisa's NICU invited me to talk in when we went back.  It just seemed fitting that I share it now.  As Elisa starts her first days of pre-kindergarten.  And I am just a week away from the moment my life changed forever - 26 weeks, 3 days will always be a milestone in my pregnancies.

Song credits: Kutlass - That's What Faith Can Do
Poem: author is unknown - I found it in one of my preemie groups.