Finding out that I was having a 3rd child was a shock. This was not happening. I looked at that test and immediately took myself and that little test over to my sister-in-law's house to make her look at it. I knew I saw a line, but it was barely there. I thought that if someone else looked at it, they might NOT see the line. When she opened the door, I held it out to her without a word. "Your pregnant?!?!?!?" Yep. She could see that little line, too. What was I going to to? I had almost lost my sweet Annie at just 23 weeks. What if it happened again? I drove straight to the doctor's office. My good friend, Sara, is a nurse (and the clinic coordinator) at my OBGYN office. I called her on the way. When I arrived, I showed her the test. She saw the line. I took another test. Guess what! That one was positive, too.
~This isn't the actual test. That would just be gross.~
I sat down in Sara's office and cried...for two hours (I am pretty sure she wasn't prepared for such a long visit). My tears were NOT tears of sadness. Mack and I had always wanted 3 or 4 babies. My tears were tears of joy and WORRY. To help ease my stress, Sara got me in to an ultrasound. There was already a little heartbeat. My midwife already had a plan in mind for making this a successful pregnancy. When I saw that little bean, I got up the nerve to tell Mack. I called him and gave him the news....not knowing how he would react. He was shocked, but happy. And then his happiness turned into worry. The poor man had already been a single parent for the 59 days that I was on bed rest with Annie. I told him of the plan to have a cerclage performed at 12 weeks. His panic began to decrease. During the next 6 weeks, I spent my time being very sick and trying to hold down a little bit of food. This was the case with the other two, so I knew things were on the right track. The cerclage went as planned and I was (hopefully) not going to encounter any of the problems I had with Annie. Well, I did great until the day I turned 18 weeks. Something felt different. Wrong. I knew the feeling (pressure) all too well. When I went in, Charlie had dropped and the cerclage was beginning to pull. Yep. Bed rest again. This time I was in the bed/on the sofa for 149 days. During this time, I had 18 P17 shots. These hurt like crazy, but are supposed to help with maturing the baby. 149 days... I don't know how I didn't go insane. At 34 weeks and a few days, the decision was made to remove the cerclage (since I had been at 4 centimeters for weeks). My water immediately broke. The day was finally here. Charlie was born that night.
He gave a little cry when started breathing, but couldn't seem to regulate his breaths. For the second time, I watched a respiratory therapist take my sweet baby to the NICU. Unfortunately, Charlie had to be placed on the Vent.
As scary as all of this was at the time, it was the best thing for him. Once he came off the vent, he was ready to be fed with a bottle and quickly started to make improvements. The day before we left to come home, I witnessed a going home party for one of the babies that had been in the same room of the NICU with Charlie. She had been there for 6 months and 5 days. I can't imagine how hard that must have been on her parents.
Each day as I left the hospital, I said prayers for all of the babies and their families. Some of them had such a long road ahead of them. Charlie needed a bit of help, but he was healthy. What a blessing.
I am a mother to three loving (and fiesty) children. My husband makes me laugh every day. I believe that shopping is therapy. I love coffee and all things salty. I dream of sleeping late and winning the lottery (even though I don't play).