My son was born in early March of 2010. I was only 28 weeks pregnant.
My son was born in early March of 2010. I was only 28 weeks pregnant. I had suspected Preeclampsia due to the 12 pounds I gained in two weeks. When a urine test and blood pressure check confirmed it, I cried and cried. I was terrified for my baby, I had never considered prematurity before.
I was ambulanced to Toronto and monitored continuously. I felt like a pincushion and was trying very hard to remain calm. My husband stayed with me the whole time in my room. We were trying to wrap our heads around the long hospital stay ahead.
Our son was delivered via C-section 4 days after I arrived in Toronto. He was 2.2 pounds and the frailest thing I had ever seen. I got a quick glimpse of him before he was taken away to be hooked up to life support. I did not see him again for 2 days.
During those two days, I was in intensive care trying to recover. My mind kept wandering to the infant in the hospital, somewhere, that somehow belonged to me. I worried about the lack of skin to skin contact they are so adamant about. I worried about his brain, about his health in general, about my husband's sanity through it all. I though I was going to die at one point. It was the scariest experience of my life.
Seeing my son for the first time took my breath away. I was wheeled into the NICU at night, my hair all matted, in my hospital gown, and I cried and cried until I couldn't see anything anymore. I loved him instantly. I never believed in love at first sight, I never understood that bond between a mother and her child until then.
We were lucky to be accepted into the Ronald McDonald House of Toronto. We lived there for 2 months. My husband worked in Barrie and I just stayed there in the NICU most of the days. I watched our son grow, I worried, I waited, I worried, I prayed, I cried a lot, and I made some incredible friends going through similar troubles.
We took our son home 2 1/2 months after his birth. It was surreal leaving the hospital, and the monitors, and the nurses we had come to rely on. Closing that chapter of my life was a relief, but there is a constant and pressing urge to replay it over and over again in my mind, to analyze it all, to come to terms with it and how it changed me as a person. I am in awe of my son and of all he came through. He is a miracle. He has perhaps helped me believe in God.