So many thoughts. Good ones. Bad ones. Ones I’d like to just erase the moment they enter my mind.
So many words spinning through my head.
So lost.
I feel so helpless.
But so incredibly hopeful.
My due date was January 25, 2011. 3 weeks ago I started having preterm contractions. 2 days ago I woke up with contractions 3 minutes apart. I called my dear mother-in-law to make sure she could drive 4 hours to take care of my monkeys. Called hubby to let him know he needed to get home, or to the hospital. Then I called Tamara who hung up on me and ran from the restaurant, where she was eating breakfast, to my house. She patiently and expediently directed me to the truck, her hubby arrived to watch the monkeys till grandparents arrived, and we were off.
Off to the Tonopah hospital.
A place that doesn’t really have the best options for major issues such as preterm labor. I was blessed with an amazing staff though. Wonderful, wonderful people. The doc checked my cervix to find the amniotic sac was bulging through, and determined it was far too late to stop this labor. My heart sank. We were 3 hours away from Vegas, away from major hospitals who can successfully deal with such an emergency. Every worst thought you can think of went through my head. Thoughts you probably can’t even fathom were in my head. I did not want to deliver my son THERE!!
The doctor was amazing though. He called the Sunrise Perinatal Staff in Vegas for some expert advice. He listened strictly to what the specialist said. They decided to fly a crew from the Sunrise Children’s Hospital to Tonopah to be as prepared as possible for this 15-week premature child. Almost 2 hours pass and the crew finally arrives. They start my contractions up again, I start to push. But it just didn’t feel right. Not to me. Not to the doctor. He checked my cervix again, I hadn’t dilated any further than 3 cm, exactly where I was when I first arrived. He called the expert and was strongly encouraged to stop my contractions again and put me on the plane with the Perinatal team.
I didn’t hesitate. I looked at my wonderful friend who stood next to me the entire time, calling everyone I could think to tell, calming me, not letting me freak out, not letting me talk to anyone who was going to make me cry (which was everyone), not letting me panic and cause worse contractions or complications, and her eyes said it was a good choice. I looked at my husband who had the same look in his eyes. He understood I didn’t want to stay. Even though it meant I flew to Vegas alone, with only medical staff.
Comfortably, safely, and now more calm than I’d felt in a while, I was in a room at Sunrise Hospital surrounded by a busy staff checking me in and making preparations. The doctors came in to consult with me the best options. They did an ultrasound and discovered he was breech, so natural labor wasn’t the most ideal option. Thankfully! I was afraid of that option because my dear friend lost her son that way. He was just too young to go through such trauma. So I asked if they would absolutely do a c-section. They said of course, but it depends on how quickly everything goes, if it does indeed spin out of control. They also wanted to keep me on magnesium for at least 48 hours to allow the baby to get the full effect of the steroids I’d been given earlier in the morning.
Unfortunately, my little man couldn’t wait 2 more days. At 3am the following morning, the amniotic sac broke. There was NO stopping his entrance into the world now.
Around 10 am they were preparing me for surgery.
At 10:52 our little man made his big entrance. DraikAiden Blaine LaRue. 1 pound 10 ounces. 13 and a quarter inches long. Tough guy!
I heard 2 tiny cries.
He was taken out of the room and rushed to the NICU. The anesthesiologist gave me a post-operation pain killing injection, and I was out of for the next hour. My darling hubby was there with our son, taking amazing photos, watching the staff work their magic.
12 hours later I finally got to see my little guy.
He’s so precious.
And so small.
It is difficult for mommy not to notice all the wires and tubes flowing all around him, through his skin, through his mouth. He has a machine breathing for him. He’s so tiny. So frail. We can’t even touch him. His eyes aren’t even opened yet. His hearing is at a minimal. He is inside an incubator. I can’t hug him. I can’t kiss him. I can’t hold his little hand. All I can do is stand there and stare through glass at my fragile, defenseless boy hooked up to so many things, fighting for his little life.
I try to be strong. He needs me to be. But seeing THIS breaks me.
My husband is amazing at times like these. He’s so patient with my tears and emotions. He’s so understanding. I know this hurts him too though.
But I am hopeful. He is in the best care he could possibly be in. This is a great hospital. Another friend of mine had her daughter prematurely here. She’s now going on 7. He is in good hands. And I am hopeful in a few weeks we’ll be able to touch him, and in January we will be taking him home where his sister and brother will shower him with hugs and kisses, and then teach him all their bad habits!
I’m praying for this. More than I have ever prayed for anything in my life.
