Five Years, 2 Months and 11 Days

The Princess was born prematurely just over five years ago today. Seven weeks before my due date as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror getting ready for my second lamaze class I felt a slight gush, my water had broken. I changed my clothes and we immediately headed for our local hospital. There the nurses and my doctor confirmed that my water had broken through an examination, wheeled in an ultra sound machine and started to assess the baby as we awaited the ambulance they had called in to transport me to a bigger-better more equipped hospital. The whole time the fetal monitors recorded the spiking contractions my body was experiencing. An IV was administered, fluids, and labor stopping drugs were pumped into my arm. And soon without hesitation they decided it would be best to administer a does of steroids immediately, the more they could give me before I gave birth the better chance The Princess would have of surviving, and most importantly of being able to breath on her own. Her lungs at that point were no where near being ready for life outside the womb.

We spent that first, and scariest of nights in the Labor and Delivery Suite at the bigger-better more equipped hospital. The next day, once they were sure they could hold off the contractions a bit longer I was moved to the other side of the maternity floor, there I would spend the next week. In bed. On drugs. Many, many drugs. Labor stopping drugs, antibiotics, and painkillers anything to keep The Princess where she was safest. In mommy. Twice daily they monitored my amniotic fluid levels via ultrasound, and checked for infections. And once again they gave me steroid injections to speed up her lung development.

Exactly one week after the day I had stood in front of my bathroom mirror, a pregnant woman for the last time the man that had taken on my case when I was transferred, a small Indian doctor with one million and one letters behind his name came into my room that afternoon and told me that he would need to do a quick amniocentesis to check on the infection, if it had entered the fluid they would induce, if not they would keep watch a little longer. Quick? Quick? Now, I hadn't exactly undergone amniocentesis before but from what I'd heard it wasn't quick. Still, he assured me he had never had problems and that there would be minimal discomfort. On his ninth very painful attempt at reaching one of the fluid pockets surrounding The Princess he gave up out of frustration. He retracted the needle, sighed, and set it down on the cart beside him. It was time. They took the labor stopping drugs off my IV cart and prepared to take me to the Labor and Delivery Suite once again.

Nine hours, too much pitocin, and with what seemed like 100 people watching (it was actually more like 10 people) The Princess arrived. Her apgar scores high - as high as you can expect for a baby born into the world six weeks too early, anyway. Her head covered in fuzzy black hair and her tiny body as pink as pink gets. I got to hold her for just a moment as they cut the cord she lay on my belly, and then they took her. It would be four hours before we would be able to get to the NICU, three floors above where we were to see her again. When we did though, she was beautiful and her prognosis was especially delightful. She was healthy. Perfectly so, actually. She could suck, and she ate readily. We were able to take her out of her teeny baby incubator and hold her, feed her, dress her and after a few days even bathe her (sponge bath of course). On a routine x-ray during her first day there they found a tiny touch of pneumonia in her lungs, most likely from the infection I had contracted during the past week. It was only a touch though and after a week long round of antibiotics and without having to experience any symptoms The Princess came home.

We were lucky. So very lucky. Some families are not so lucky, though. Some premature babies do not make it home, some make it home only with disabilities that will plague them for a lifetime, yet others make it home but once they do it's to a broken home - one that has been taken down by the emotional, physical, and financial toll that the early birth took on his or her family. November is National prematurely awareness Month, please spread the word. This is an issue that is very close to our hearts - education, research and support is needed on all levels. Any woman can give birth prematurely and the causes are largely unknown. If you can't give money you can still help, walk in your local March Of Dimes walk or look for volunteering opportunities in your area that will benefit NICUs and NICU families. Every little bit helps.