That's it. I'm done. Winter has officially beaten us all. Little W was in Children's Hospital most of last week with pneumonia. Little H is endlessly snotty and I am recovering from strep, tonsilitis and a sinus infection, ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Nothing was scarier than how sick W was before his Dr sent us to the emergency room. The kid was a rag doll. I thought I was done with W in hospitals for a few decades.
He's home now and convalescing nicely. Trying to get him all better in time for his birthday party. Fingers crossed!
Showing posts with label NICU. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NICU. Show all posts
Monday, March 4, 2013
Monday, November 21, 2011
Oh, I'm Aware, Alright...
This month is a busy month for us, as far as national acknowledgments. It's Prematurity Awareness Month as well as National Adoption Awareness Month. Last week, the first World Prematurity Day was celebrated. Maybe it went unnoticed by most people (who haven't been touched by prematurity). But not by me. I thought about all my friends with preemies (some of whom didn't make it) and reveled in how far we've come and continue to come. We're a close knit group of people, even if we don't really know each other too well. We've all felt the same gut wrenching emotions as we rode the NICU roller coaster. So every few weeks when I hear about a friend of a friend who just had a 26 or 28 weeker, I'm always more than happy to extend my contact info to them. When Little W was in the NICU, I would have killed for some been-there-done-that sage wisdom. So I love that I can provide that to future friends. Premies are amazing little people and until you've been touched by one, it's hard to understand just how magical they are.
As an adoptive-mom-in-waiting, I don't have much (of the the tangible variety) to acknowledge Adoption Awareness Month. Seeing as we're "paper pregnant," I guess I could pull together all of our paperwork and make it rain up in this piece. That would make a seriously big mess, so I'll refrain. What I'll probably do one day soon is redo our profile forty seven more times. Maybe I'll hand in one of the edits. May not. Maybe we'll finally get out butts in gear and finish painting the baby's room. Over the past few weeks,we've become masters of avoidance as far as that bedroom is concerned. Rather than get in there and put some elbow grease into the space, I'd much rather sit on the computer and stare at already adorable bedrooms like these, compiled by Design*Sponge.
Anyhoo... Whether you're waiting for The Call or your house is bursting with kiddies (or something in between), what are you doing to recognize National Adoption Awareness Month? I'd love to hear all about it.
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| This is Little W at 1.5 months old, during his second attempt at breathing on his own, sans respirator. |
Anyhoo... Whether you're waiting for The Call or your house is bursting with kiddies (or something in between), what are you doing to recognize National Adoption Awareness Month? I'd love to hear all about it.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Why We're Adopting
"Oh, we're fertile. We have a biological son."
I tossed it out there lightly, without much thought. I saw my words hanging in the room like lead balloons and I tried desperately to shove them back in my mouth. We were at our first formal adoption group class with our agency. We were just asked to discuss our feelings on infertility with the group. Sitting in tight nervous pairs all around us were couples who couldn't have babies. I didn't know their stories. But as I was trying to shove the zeppelin back in my mouth, I could feel their pain They probably had really long infertility stories marred with failed attempts and miscarriages. I felt terrible for seeming so cavalier about what drove us to that meeting. I wanted them to know that we, too felt incredible pain and this wasn't something that we decided to undertake "just because."
I didn't bother to go into the details at that meeting. I didn't tell them that W was just one pound and completely see through when he was born. Or that he suffered a pulmonary hemorrhage that almost killed him and that they were pumping blood out of his collasped lungs for weeks. Or how we couldn't hold him for a month after he was born. Or how he suffered a brain hemorrhage and we weren't sure if he'd ever be able to walk or talk. Maybe I should have. Then they would have understood that there was nothing cavalier about why we were adopting.
Little W and I were quite happy together when I was pregnant. I was getting a cute belly, he was growing, we were doing prenatal yoga and exercising and learning what each other liked to eat. I followed all the rules. I was the picture of pregnant health. Then like a tornado at 25 weeks, we were on hospital bed rest. Preeclampsia was the culprit and it was ANGRY. I barely had time to come to terms with what was happening to us when they took him from me at just 26 weeks. The next four months Little W lived in the NICU and we held constant vigil at his side.
And I Googled things. Lots and lots of things. I found that the chances of this happening again with a subsequent pregnancy where anywhere from 10-70%. No, thank you. Before W was even home with us, we decided that this would be our only foray into the world of reproduction. We could not live with the guilt of trying to make another baby when so much could go wrong. If that kid didn't turn out 100% perfect, I'd blame myself forever and probably wind up pulling a Sylvia Plath.
We decided right then and there that we didn't care whose loins our children came out of. Then about 15 seconds later we decided that we didn't care what color those loins were. And then about 12 months later when we got serious about #2, we decided that if this child was to be of a different race than us, they should have a connection to their birth family. And thus our domestic, open adoption love story began.
Maybe I should have told everyone all of that at that first meeting. If for no other reason than to save face from my mindless gaffe. But honestly, the "why" just doesn't seem all that important to me. What's important is that we have a lot of love to give. We're committed to bringing a beautiful baby home with us and forging a lasting bond with their birth mother. And I think that's a beautiful thing.
I tossed it out there lightly, without much thought. I saw my words hanging in the room like lead balloons and I tried desperately to shove them back in my mouth. We were at our first formal adoption group class with our agency. We were just asked to discuss our feelings on infertility with the group. Sitting in tight nervous pairs all around us were couples who couldn't have babies. I didn't know their stories. But as I was trying to shove the zeppelin back in my mouth, I could feel their pain They probably had really long infertility stories marred with failed attempts and miscarriages. I felt terrible for seeming so cavalier about what drove us to that meeting. I wanted them to know that we, too felt incredible pain and this wasn't something that we decided to undertake "just because."
I didn't bother to go into the details at that meeting. I didn't tell them that W was just one pound and completely see through when he was born. Or that he suffered a pulmonary hemorrhage that almost killed him and that they were pumping blood out of his collasped lungs for weeks. Or how we couldn't hold him for a month after he was born. Or how he suffered a brain hemorrhage and we weren't sure if he'd ever be able to walk or talk. Maybe I should have. Then they would have understood that there was nothing cavalier about why we were adopting.
Little W and I were quite happy together when I was pregnant. I was getting a cute belly, he was growing, we were doing prenatal yoga and exercising and learning what each other liked to eat. I followed all the rules. I was the picture of pregnant health. Then like a tornado at 25 weeks, we were on hospital bed rest. Preeclampsia was the culprit and it was ANGRY. I barely had time to come to terms with what was happening to us when they took him from me at just 26 weeks. The next four months Little W lived in the NICU and we held constant vigil at his side.
And I Googled things. Lots and lots of things. I found that the chances of this happening again with a subsequent pregnancy where anywhere from 10-70%. No, thank you. Before W was even home with us, we decided that this would be our only foray into the world of reproduction. We could not live with the guilt of trying to make another baby when so much could go wrong. If that kid didn't turn out 100% perfect, I'd blame myself forever and probably wind up pulling a Sylvia Plath.
We decided right then and there that we didn't care whose loins our children came out of. Then about 15 seconds later we decided that we didn't care what color those loins were. And then about 12 months later when we got serious about #2, we decided that if this child was to be of a different race than us, they should have a connection to their birth family. And thus our domestic, open adoption love story began.
Maybe I should have told everyone all of that at that first meeting. If for no other reason than to save face from my mindless gaffe. But honestly, the "why" just doesn't seem all that important to me. What's important is that we have a lot of love to give. We're committed to bringing a beautiful baby home with us and forging a lasting bond with their birth mother. And I think that's a beautiful thing.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Meet Little W, my NICU Miracle Man
This is Little W and he is just the apple of my eye. I know I'm partial, but I think he's quite an amazing little dude.
He overcame incredible odds at a very tender age. Little W was born 14 weeks early and spent 106 days in the NICU. That was pretty sucky. But now he's an amazing 32 month old boy with boundless energy and an iron will (that tests me at every turn), which I am endlessly thankful for. Because without that iron will, he very well might not be here with us today.
W's very into trains, trucks, cars, playing hide and seek and most recently, dinosaurs. I love indulging his new passions, as rudimentary as they may be at this point. What passions do your children have? What do you do to indulge them aside from buying piles of plastic toys?
He overcame incredible odds at a very tender age. Little W was born 14 weeks early and spent 106 days in the NICU. That was pretty sucky. But now he's an amazing 32 month old boy with boundless energy and an iron will (that tests me at every turn), which I am endlessly thankful for. Because without that iron will, he very well might not be here with us today.
W's very into trains, trucks, cars, playing hide and seek and most recently, dinosaurs. I love indulging his new passions, as rudimentary as they may be at this point. What passions do your children have? What do you do to indulge them aside from buying piles of plastic toys?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
A New Deal
There are a few sayings in this world that make me want to gouge my eyes out. Like "natural flavor" and when people call Disney World simply, "Disney." Yuck. But nothing pisses me off more than the saying "mommy blog." It makes my ears hot and makes me want to learn how the internet works so I can destroy it with fire. So this little project is NOT a mommy blog. I'm a mom and I have a story and I'm putting it in a blog. Ugh... it's unavoidable, isn't it? Lets try to think of something cooler and less cliche than mommy blog. Hm... I'll have to think about that one.
So, what's my story? In a nutshell, I'm a mom and a wife. The wife part of the story is happy and normal. We love, we laugh, we made a family... all the things that look nice in a picture frame. But the mom part... well that's where my story lies. I have one biological son with an interesting birth story (of the micro preemie variety) and we're currently waiting very patiently (or not so patiently) for baby#2 by way of open, domestic adoption. I'm very proud of the family I'm growing and I feel like my journey could possibly be helpful.
I'm not an expert on anything. I'm melodramatic and goofy and scatter brained. I just feel a need to share my journey in hopes that it'll help someone else... somewhere... maybe.
So this might be a short lived experiment. It's mostly just a therapy session for me to get through these trying moths of waiting for baby#2 to drop out of the sky and into my waiting arms. It's highly likely that this will never be read by anyone other than myself. And that's ok too. Because when my babies are grown and making their own babies, they'll see that I was completely hapless and clueless and in constant fear of sending everyone in my care screaming into the therapist's office. And that's ok, because we're all just making it up as we go.
So... nice to meet you.
So, what's my story? In a nutshell, I'm a mom and a wife. The wife part of the story is happy and normal. We love, we laugh, we made a family... all the things that look nice in a picture frame. But the mom part... well that's where my story lies. I have one biological son with an interesting birth story (of the micro preemie variety) and we're currently waiting very patiently (or not so patiently) for baby#2 by way of open, domestic adoption. I'm very proud of the family I'm growing and I feel like my journey could possibly be helpful.
I'm not an expert on anything. I'm melodramatic and goofy and scatter brained. I just feel a need to share my journey in hopes that it'll help someone else... somewhere... maybe.
So this might be a short lived experiment. It's mostly just a therapy session for me to get through these trying moths of waiting for baby#2 to drop out of the sky and into my waiting arms. It's highly likely that this will never be read by anyone other than myself. And that's ok too. Because when my babies are grown and making their own babies, they'll see that I was completely hapless and clueless and in constant fear of sending everyone in my care screaming into the therapist's office. And that's ok, because we're all just making it up as we go.
So... nice to meet you.
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