Our Journey to Brandon

I decided to start off his birth story with the pre-birth story story. Yes, this complicated little boy, had soo many "almost" birth stories, I feel they should be included in the actual birth story. As you all know, my water broke at 21 weeks 2 days (and if you dont you can read all about that terrible day here). I was hospitalized at that point for 5 days and given the option to go home until I reached 24 weeks. The rationale for sending me home vs keeping me in the hospital is that, in Canada (and most other places), a baby is not considered viable until 24 weeks, so until that point no medical intervention would be attempted (even if I asked for it). The Dr's that I had (following my admission - the admitting Dr was horrible), felt as though if I made it to 24 weeks (and they sure used the word if A LOT - too much for my liking), then I would be admitted until I gave birth, and they knew what a long haul that would be, especially since I already had a child at home. So, once I established my new (terrifying), normal, I decided to go home for that almost two weeks, and soak up life with my daughter. Try to delight in the little things. Which was easy to do, as she can be all encompassing, and I could briefly forget about the "situation" I was in. However, when she went to bed, or when I realized how limited I was (physically - as I was on complete bedrest) and how limited my time with her was about to become, I was devastated. This devastation, soon turned to guilt, once I realized how lucky I was to still be pregnant, as soo many moms-to-be, whose water breaks prematurely, do go on to deliver within 24-48 hrs, my missing my family and lifestyle were a very small price to pay for still being pregnant.

I was readmitted to the hospital on December 4th, and promptly started on IV antibiotics (which I hated - and every nurse and Dr in the joint knew it). I have a rational reason for hating IV's though you see, I suffered from an IV injury my whole life. One that I received when I was born. The Dr's severed the tendon in my left hand at birth with an IV. And to this day I have very limited use of my left hand. So, it's not that they hurt, it's programmed in me now to have an adverse reaction. For the first month in the hospital, I was granted leave of absences for day trips to go home and be with my family in my home. It was a wonderful getaway. My life consisted at that point of weekly ultrasound, daily NST, and Monday, Wednesday, Friday visits with my sweet little family. I filled the time in between, meeting other mom's who were also on Antenatal, and also away from their families. I longed for my weekends at home, to be around my family, eat real home cooked food. It was as wonderful as it could be. Little did I know my last trip home would be on Christmas Eve. We made the most of it, mainly just because it was Christmas, but we had no idea it would be the last time I would see the inside of my home until March 8th, 2012, the day we finally brought Brandon home from the hospital.

New Years weekend, Eric had stayed over night at the hospital with me and we were going to go pick up Hannah and mom and head home for the night, all I had to do was my regular NST (non - stress test - where they monitor babies heart rate for a minimum of 10 mins to check for decelerations or accelerations - signs of distress). I was all hooked up the machine, and Brandon's heart rate, was much higher then it usually was. That was slightly alarming to me, as I had not yet eaten breakfast, and usually a higher heart rate was associated with movement, and usually occurs after I had eaten something. However, baby boy was not moving around like crazy, which he should have been to have his baseline heart rate 180's, when he usually sat around 145 bpm with movement. Forty minutes later, his heart rate was still elevated, and the nurse I had (whom was not one of my regular nurses - but was just training on antenatal) was not concerned in the least. She told me not to worry that was her job and if she wasn't worrying I shouldn't either. Well, I was worried. I knew something wasn't right. Upon returning to my room, all approved to go home, despite my concerns, I stopped in the washroom to pee and discovered the problem. I was bleeding, like bright red bleeding (sorry about the tmi). I promptly called for the nurses (nothing like 4 nurses coming into the washroom to examine the situation happening), who came and called my OB who decided maybe I shouldn't go home. Umm you think? There was no way I was going anywhere, well anywhere but labour and delivery that is, to be monitored one on one, as the bleeding turned into contractions (every 2 minutes for hours on end). I was monitored all day and well into the night on 9 different occasions between December 31st and January 25th. Every trip down to labour and delivery reminded me why I was there. And each time I returned to my room after an exhausting day of contractions and bleeding was victorious for me. I celebrated each day I was still pregnant. When I went from 29-30 weeks, and was on my way back to my room from a particularly hairy day down the delivery room, which included massive amounts of blood loss, soo much so we were pretty sure he was going to be born that day, the Dr's even checked my cervix, (which is a big no-no with pprom), when I was wheeled out of the delivery room and back to my antenatal room, they let me erase my own name off the board while they applauded. I had a great group of people pulling for me. It was such a juxtaposition, usually you go to the delivery room to have a baby and everyone's anticipating the moment that sweet baby makes its grand entrance. All the pains of labour, and exhaustion settles out to a calming sense of we did it, he/she's finally here. In my case, that same feeling was broadcast when I was still pregnant. Except the relaxation never came. We knew that despite the fact I was returning to my room, it was temporary. There would be a next time and maybe I wouldn't be so lucky. Maybe we wouldn't be soo lucky. But that little boy in there was strong and steady throughout. He never went into distress until the very end. He kept the nurses on their toes, and the Dr's reassured. I had more ultrasounds then I could even count. And after he was born I had all these Dr's and all these nurses rallying behind me through his NICU stay. The ultrasound technicians came and sat with me, the nurses had lunch with me while I was breaking from the NICU. Most importantly, I never felt alone. I knew I had people, I knew Brandon had people, and I knew all of these people were looking out for our best interests. There are no words to express the gratitude I feel for these people. Some of them are my family, and some of them became my family. The people you knew who would be just as thrilled as you were that your son gained 30 grams in one day. The people who would pick you up after a day when you watched your son stop breathing over and over again. They reminded me everything I went through, and how strong I am, never how strong I was (despite the fact I was feeling much less then strong - I was so helpless to this sweet little boy). I was not even able to touch him, but I knew the nurses that were touching him were doing so with as much care as I would be able to muster, but with the skill I could not even begin to comprehend. His journey was a long, terrifying one, but it has humbled me to such a great deal. Every single day was a miracle for a whole new reason. Everyday a milestone was achieved was a huge relief. Yes we had setbacks, and those days were the hardest. It was hard to remember all the good things we had going when you're sons alarms are reminding you of how far you have yet to go. It seemed some days there was no end in sight, and we didn't know what that end would look like. I'm not sure we even do now. But this is our new normal. And it is a gift. I will blog a lot more about our NICU stay, and the things we saw there, the little hero's and the heart break. The unimaginable heart break.

So thank you to everyone who rallied with me and kept me, kept us going strong. Reminded me of what was important, and that I was not alone. I appreciated it more then I believe I will ever comprehend.

Amy