Birth Story: The Path of a Micropreemie Birth
Updated: Jan 9, 2019
October 26, 2007, the day my life was forever changed. At the age of 27 I gave birth to my fist child. He was born 16 weeks early, at 24 weeks gestation weighing in at 1lb 4oz. A little more than a week prior to giving birth, I had been admitted to the hospital and bed rested after showing up in the emergency room with concerns because of spotting. The triage nurse took one look under the sheet, gasped and went to retrieve a doctor. I knew something was seriously wrong.
Doctors informed me that at only 23 weeks pregnant, I was 5 centimeters dilated. I didn't know what to think. I was married at that time and my husband was out of town, as he was an over the road truck driver. I was scared and praying the doctors and medical staff could "fix" things. Needless to say, that just wasn't going to happen. I was then admitted and bed rested for the next week. After a week of being on bed rest, no progress on the delivery of my child, the doctor decided the catheter could be removed and I could at minimum get up and use the toilet. Two days after the catheter was removed, I get up to use the bathroom and when I was cleaning up, I felt a body part, right at the vaginal opening.
At this time, my sister and sister in-law are present in my hospital room. I calmly lay down and ask my sister to get the doctor. Again, one look under the sheet and the doctor says, we're having a baby and I'm prepped and whisked off the operating room. Now, what I've failed to mention is that shortly after the catheter was removed my water had broken and so the baby was being monitored for infection because now there's no fluid. Ok, back into the operating room. Because I'm only 24 weeks pregnant the baby is sitting high in the uterus making delivery difficult, when I push the unfathomable happened. He turns and at the vaginal opening instead of his feet, is now his arm and shoulder. I don't have to tell you, you can't birth a baby sideways!
With out anesthesia, the doctor has put her entire forearm into me to help birth this fragile life. She then comes to the head of the bed and with all the compassion she could muster says "I'm so sorry, I don't think he's going to survive this delivery." She rolls herself back down to the foot of the bed to continue to try and birth my child.
By the grace of GOD alone, my child was born alive, he even managed to eek out a cry before he was whisked off to the NICU, where he would remain for the next 100 days of his life. During his NICU stay he would experience two life threatening lung infections, countless apnea and bradycardia episodes, one of which I witnessed. My baby turned blue and doctors were rubbing his tiny chest rigorously as the rest of him flail like a rag doll. They lovingly and forcefully pushed me out of the room, and saved my child's life. In that moment I realized that his life wasn't promised.
I visited my son every day and held him as often as I could. He was so tiny that he fit right into bra! Even when he couldn't leave his incubator I would read to him, sing to him and talk to him. I made sure he was breast milk fed when he was able to take in food and not just a nutritional IV pack. Every last of those 100 days was hard, but the outcome is what you see below. My son today is 11 and is doing well. He is unique, funny, playful and sweet. He is also cognitively and developmentally delayed. He is my most precious gift and I love him so dearly. Raising him I have had to grieve many things. I've had to watch him be rejected and try to understand why the kids won't accept him. I've had to comfort him as he cried because he's just so tired he can't take the day anymore.
Being the mother of a micropreemie has taught me lessons in patience, understanding, tolerance and acceptance. It has taught me to speak up and be assertive when I know something isn't right. Being his mother has made me a better person and made me a better parent for my daughter. I wouldn't trade my experiences for anything!
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