This is the reality of prematurity

Although you will hear me be all sunshine and rainbows about my son (how I love him and I wouldn't change anything about him for the world, which I still wouldn't) here is the reality of prematurity.  I feel amazingly blessed to have a "normal" full term pregnancy before my preterm pregnancy.  However, having that wonderful nearly uneventful pregnancy also made me painfully aware of everything that I missed and was robbed of during my preterm pregnancy. 

The photo you see above was the last picture taken of my pregnant with Gunner.  I was 28 weeks along.  28 weeks, that is 12 weeks before my due date.  This was the morning of the day that my water broke.  Later that afternoon I was admitted to the hospital, not to be discharged until I had a baby, which at that point, they thought was imminent.  One of the things I missed was taking a weekly picture of my belly to see how it grew or having professional pictures taken, like I did with Greyson. Yes, I know, in comparison to my son breathing, this is very very petty.

 This picture again, we are all smiles.  It was Mother's Day 2009.  A day we should be celebrating, especially with an upcoming birth (that was supposed to be 2 months away) The reality of this is, I was stuck in a hospital bed over an hour from my home with infrequent visitors and a lot of solitude.  Solitude and worry that drove a person who is generally positive and optimistic to be worried, unsettled, and depressed.  Depressed to the point that at the 4 week mark, my mental health state required medication and monitoring.

I love my baby boy.  He was a giant considering the other babies he was near in the NICU.  A giant at 4 lbs.  My full term baby was described to me by many as "the smallest baby I have ever seen" well, now I had one upped that, with an even smaller baby.  I have very few pictures of Gunner with all of his wires and tubes, simply because I didn't want to remember it.  But the reality is, if I don't remember it, no one else will either.  If I don't remember and share this experience, there will be even more babies like Gunner.  Babies born too soon because the general perception of a preemie is a "small baby" who will be "fine" after awhile.  While that is generally true, it certianly doesn't reflect the reality of the day in and day out life of a preemie parent .

As I said, I was blessed with a relatively uncomplicated pregnancy before Gunner's birth.  I was blessed to have a baby that could room in with me, nurse for hours on end, to change a diaper without assistance, to have my only worry be if and when I may get some sleep again.  As you can see above, the parenting of a preemie is very different.  You are a visitor instead of a parent.  There is no 24-hour responsibility, because you just can't be there the whole time.  Especially if you are balancing the care of a 2 year old with that.

You have to wash for 30 seconds just to go in (with soap that if I smell now still takes me back)  You have to take a temperature every care session.  That is the only time you feed or diaper the baby, or you might overstimulate them to the point that they have spells where their heart rate drops or they forget to breathe.  You can't just nurse them, you have to see what they can handle at that moment.  You see progress and then the next time you are there you see regression.  You feel that the only thing you can do to really help them is to be up at all hours of the day and night pumping.  Wow.  That was verbal diarreah.  But the reality comes through; the parenting of a premature child is not an easy road.  This is parenting with a child who was able to breathe on his own.  I cannot imagine having a baby born so soon he couldn't breathe or touch as his skin is so sensitive it may rub off with a gentle touch.

All of that being said, I am reminded of my committment to the March of Dimes.  I am so firmly committed because this organization works tirelessly to help raise the funds necessary to research all of the things that can help end prematurity and help the babies born too soon.  So today, remember all of the babies born too soon, like Gunner.  But also remember and cherish your own children as well, because chances are they are all March of Dimes babies. 

What, you didn't have a preemie, so the MOD didn't have anything to do with your pregnancy or child?  If you refrained from drinking (1970's) or smoking (1970's) or took a prenatal vitamin daily (1990's) your child is a March of Dimes baby.  The years in ()'s are the years in which the March of Dimes' funded research told us not to drink, smoke, and to get daily folic acid in our diet.  So I have two March of Dimes babies.  A full-termer and a preemie.

Prematurity Awareness Day

Last year, I celebrated prematurity awareness for the first time, by posting Gunner's birth story.   A story that I took days to write, months to come to term with, and an event to share.  You may ask, why I say celebrated?  I think it is because although I wish I had a full term, uneventful pregnancy, I have to say I know why I didn't.

I didn't have a perfect pregnancy because:

The experiencing of prematurity inspired me to do my first March for Babies.  Our amazing team raised over $3000 to help fund research to fight prematurity and support families like mine.

The loss and helplessness I felt when visiting my son in the NICU has pushed me to support other families in that situation.  I have celebrated special nurses (nurse's day), special moms (gift bags to mommies with babies in the NICU) and a special hospital.  We did the Bronson's Children Hospital walk and facilitated a lovie drive, where we made over 50 tag blankets for children who need comfort in emergency situations.

I was able to help other preemie babies at our NICU and their moms by donating over 16 gallons of breast milk, including 300 oz of preterm milk.  This means less NEC, more weight gain, and anitbodies you just can't get in formula.

Due to the emotions and stress of prematurity, I have reached out to an amazing support network of moms who have walked a month or three in my NICU shoes.  They are amazing and though I have not met but one in real life, I consider them my friends and support network.

So I know, that even though I did everything right and this wasn't supposed to happen because of that, it did because it was meant to be.  I was meant to make a difference.

I'm a statistic

Did you know that between 1997 and 2007, the rate of infants born preterm in Michigan increased nearly 11%. Two thoughts, wow, that is scary and oh boy, I am a statistic!  That is 1 in 8 babies or over 12% of all of the live births in Michigan.  As a state, we get a D in the status of premature birth.  Of course that resonates with me, because I am an educator.  I wouldn't want a nurse who got a D in a class or a teacher who got a D in class teaching my children.  But that is where we, as a state, fall.

In An Average Week in Michigan

• 301 babies are born preterm  (this would be Gunner)
• 52 babies are born very preterm
• 202 babies are born low birthweight (this would be Gunner and borderline Greyson)
• 40 babies are born very low birthweight

Despite the fact that the March of Dimes is doing research, moms are seeking prenatal care (most of them) and following the advice of their OB's (again most of them) prematurity is still effecting our state and possibly babies you know and love.  It is way to scary to be a preemie parent and though I wouldn't change it for the world, I also wouldn't wish the experience on my worst enemy.

I am a perfect example of doing everything right and still having a preemie.  I teach human development; I know what you are supposed to do, I did what you are supposed to do.   (No smoking, drinking, take vita mins, get good prenatal care) I still had a full term baby who was lower birthweigth (5lbs 12 oz, down to 5lbs 4oz before leaving hospital) and a preterm baby.  I am one of the types of statistics the March of Dimes funds research for.

All stats are from the MOD website

Lessons in Parenting

I am a two-time mommy. I knew what to expect with the birth of my second child. What I expected was not what happened. After six weeks of hospital bedrest, I gave birth to my youngest at 33 weeks. Everything I "expected" and knew went out the window.  One of the things that resonates to me still is that I didn't feel like a parent (in the same way) when Gunner was in the NICU.  I felt like a visitor.

I had diapered a child before. I learned to diaper a child smaller than the baby dolls I had as a child. I learned to manuever around the wires to prevent false alarms that still sent a shock thru my being.

I had breastfed a child before. I learned that preemies born before 34 weeks don't eat on their own. They lack the suck/swallow reflex and then when you add remembering to breathe in there, it take much longer. I learned to determine when and if he could handle nursing and for how long so that he may finish a feeding orally as opposed to through a tube in his nose.

I had snuggled a baby before. I learned the benefits of Kangaroo care. Each time I would hold my son all of his respiratory and pulmonary functions regulated. He became one with me. His temperature controlled, his breathing regular, slow and peaceful.

I had woken in the middle of the night to check if my child was still breathing before. I learned that I would call nightly when I was pumping (typically 3 am) to see if my child had gained, had breathing spells, etc. since I had left him in the hospital.

I had bathed a child before. I learned to bathe a child in a bedpan no basin no bigger than a bedpan and still he looked like he was in a kiddie pool. A process that required two people.

I had a c-section and an extended stay at the hospital, taking my son home after 4 days before. I learned what it felt like to leave your heart (child) at the hospital and not take him home for another 6 weeks.

I had flowers, visitors, and baby gifts sent to us before. I learned who was really there for us and could handle this new challenge we were embarking on. They still visited, sent flowers and gifts and treated this as it should be, a celebration, a little early, but a celebration.

The NICU experience certainly taught me that things are out of your control. Even when you do everything right, there is no gaurantee.