On September 18, 2006 I received the news that I would be a mommy. This is a moment I had dreamed of since I was a child carrying around my dolls (which I played with a little later than most girls I’m sure). It was all I ever wanted–to hold a sweet newborn baby in my arms. I have loved babies from the beginning, and even photographed my collection of Lee Middleton Dolls as a child. I wanted nothing more in life than to be a mommy.
Then on March 7, 2007 at 2:00am, I had horrible pains in my upper abdomen. We went to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia. My blood pressure was insane (I believe it was around 300/200-ish, I always forget the exact number). They told me that they had to take the baby, or I wasn’t going to live. What was the outlook for the baby? The doctor said he would have a “pretty good chance” at survival. Its scary to be 26 weeks pregnant, rushing down the hall on a stretcher with papers tossed in your lap to sign regarding the emergency c-section you are about to have, on a little baby you have dreamed your whole life of holding. You know that moment when they hold up your new baby and say “Its a boy!”, then hand you a slippery baby fresh from the womb for that magical bonding experience? I had watched every baby show during my pregnancy just dreaming of that moment–and it was about to be taken from me. I knew there would be no handing over my little boy. I knew I wouldn’t hear that sweet first cry or have that bonding experience–but I had faith that he would make it. During the c-section, things slowed down when it was discovered I had very little amniotic fluid, which made the birth take a little longer than usual. I heard no cry, only the sound of the NICU team and doctors asking for help. Then the sound of them rushing my baby out of the room. I didn’t see him, I didn’t get to bond. I awoke in recovery with the news that he was smaller than they had anticipated–one pound, 10.5 ounces to be exact. He was strong though, so they said his odds of living were good–but they warned it was going to be a long road ahead.
I was on magnesium for days following his birth in the attempt to level out my blood pressure. I was not allowed to get out of bed, which didn’t bother me. I know it sounds horrible, but I didn’t want to see Aidan. I didn’t think he’d live, and I didn’t want to form that magical bond with someone who was going to be taken away from me. My husband thought he was the greatest baby ever born and didn’t even acknowledge that he may not make it. I wish I could have been that strong. I got to see him for the first time when he was 2 or 3 days old. My mom did snap a picture for me on her cell phone to show me…
Proud daddy…
But Aidan is a strong soul. He stayed in the NICU for 63 days. He came home at a gestational age of only 33 weeks–that’s something! He weighed 4 pounds, 7 ounces. He was such a fighter.
His first birthday came and went. He is still so tiny, but those huckleberry blue eyes are so full of spirit.
The terrible twos, they flew by. He was never terrible, just has a slight stubborn streak.
Threes were a blur!
Now my baby boy is 4 years old. I may not have bonded those first few days, but I have made up for it over time. My entire world revolves around this beautiful boy. He’s so full of personality, and makes me laugh every day. I can’t help but smile every time I look at him and wonder what I ever did in my life to deserve such a sweet boy. He is destined for greatness–he was put on this earth with this strong will to live for a reason. I can’t wait to see the man he becomes, but I hope he slows down and enjoys the ride. I can’t believe that he is 4. He’s not my baby, or even my little toddler anymore. He’s now my preschooler, and that’s hard for me to accept. I want him to be my baby forever.
