I decided to share Charlotte's birth story since we just celebrated her turning one. I cannot believe it has been year and if I think to much about it I start to get emotional. How is my tiny baby already ONE?! Anyway, this will be the longest post I've ever written, but I just had to get it down before I forget.
I think I spent my entire pregnancy in terror. Waiting for the 40 weeks to come to an end so I could stop worrying. Although, I quickly learned the day your child is born is only the beginning of worry. It never ends. I wonder now if I'll ever sleep through the night again. I wake up at least two or three times a night just to make sure C is breathing. More than once I've (regretfully) woken her in a panic because I couldn't tell.
Let me back up to 19 wks.
The gender appointment:
Finally something I'd been so looking forward too! It was that glimmer of hope I'd been hanging onto throughout the first few months. If I just made it to that appointment.. For some reason I thought making it there would mean everything else would be okay. We found out we'd be welcoming into our family a baby girl. I think I immediately started decorating her nursery in my head. Unfortunately our joy was quickly overshadowed with worry. And even more unfortunate I'd have to wait three weeks to find out how serious of a problem we had. My doctor told me they'd found cysts on my umbilical cord, and was going to send me to a perinatologist, but told me not to worry. "Don't worry?!" I was anxious to get an appointment and assumed I would get in within the next couple days. Wrong. The soonest she would see me would be a three week wait. THREE WEEKS. My doctor had given me little information to go on so I turned to the only thing I could think of that would shed some light on what I could expect. Google. Bad idea.. Needless to say I spent every second leading up to my appointment in a state of complete panic. Friends and family called for updates on my pregnancy and talked about how excited I must be and I couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth. Admitting what was going on only made things so much more real. The appointment finally came and after the longest 2 hour wait of my life in that tiny little lobby, they called me back. The doctor assured me the cysts were nothing to be concerned about and she didn't think I needed to come back for a couple months.
At my 28 wk appointment my doctor told me I should register at the hospital so I could easily check in when it was time for the baby. I remember thinking, "Really? You want me to do it now? I still have 12 weeks.." And then she made some joke about how she wasn't ready for baby to come yet and I agree and we laughed..... The following weekend I drug Jared to the hospital and we registered to make for an easier check in when the time came.
Around 29 wks I started having a lot of Braxton hicks contractions. My belly would get so hard and I worried something was wrong. But again, I was in denial and told myself to wait for the appointment I had in less than a week.
Jared and I both had funny feelings that week leading up the the appointment, some thing neither of us spoke of until after she was born. I remember thinking as I got ready for my appointment, "What if she came today?" I specifically remember thinking about how I didn't even have diapers.
I went in for a growth scan at my 30 wk appointment. Something that isn't always done, but since they'd found cysts on my umbilical cord early in my pregnancy they wanted to follow up. The tech called us in and went through checking all the usual things. She asked if I'd felt the baby moving much lately and too be honest I hadn't. I think I'd been trying to convince myself she was moving in there because I so badly wanted nothing to be wrong. She poked my belly and tried moving baby girl but got nothing. I made a joke about how I should eat something sugary. I suppose how calm our tech was being, comforted me. She wrapped everything up quickly and took me to a room. About ten minutes later the nurse poked her head in the door and asked which hospital I was registered at. Still, I thought nothing of it and Jared and I continued joking around while we waited. My doctor came in next and sat down in front of me. She told me it was nothing I did wrong but something wasn't right with baby and she wanted to admit me to the hospital for observation. "Are you serious?" I asked half laughing half starting to cry. This just got real. "I don't have insurance for my baby yet" was the next thing out of my mouth. I guess I didn't know how to respond. Maybe I thought the fact that I didn't have insurance yet would somehow stop her from coming before her due date.
Jared and I made our way across the street and up to the second floor. I wasn't convinced I'd have my baby today. I thought for sure I'd go home in maybe a week on bed rest or something. Jared and I waited around for about twenty minutes while they got a room ready for me. During this time we debated calling our families- we didn't want to panic them for nothing.. Jareds brother, who he also works with, found out when J called to say he wouldn't be coming back that day so we decided to spread the word I was in the hospital. Apparently during that time my doctor had already called twice for updates (had I known that, I probably would've realized the severity of the situation, but as they say, ignorance is bliss). They showed us to our room and had me change into a gown. They proceeded to hook me up to monitors and ask me all types of questions. That's when the Braxton hicks started. I was probably having a contraction every few minutes so my doctor checked to see if I was dilated. I wasn't. My perinatologist arrived shortly after and looked at the monitors and their results from the last hour. I think there were probably around eight nurses/doctors in my room at this time and my doctor later told me how confused I looked. I was. I don't even think I'd accepted the fact that I'd be having my baby early yet. There's no way this could be real. This only happen to people you hear stories about. Not me! My perinatologist stepped up to my bedside and unfolded a pamphlet. From that she told us our 30 week baby had a 95% percent chance of survival. Which is I think when I said "wait, we're having this baby today?" Her response was frank. "I don't think you're going to have an alive baby if we wait one more day". I will never forget those words. I was too shocked to have a normal response. This was when we were told they pushed back a scheduled c section and were waiting for the operating room to clear and then I'd have an emergency c section. There wasn't even time to induce labor. Jared called my brother in law who luckily was already on his way and they were able to give me a blessing before I went in. It was the most powerful blessing I've ever had and I'm so thankful for that because after that, I wasn't scared. I'm scared now just thinking back to that moment. Minutes before they wheeled me down we met Dr Pokvroy. He was the neonatologist on that night and I couldn't be more grateful. He was the best doctor I could've asked for to take care of our baby. Before I knew it I was in the OR and they were prepping me. Soon Jared was back by my side. He said it took about 45 minutes for them to get her out but I'd have believed him if he said it was three minutes. When I think back I'm still amazed he didn't faint. I saw Dr Pokvroy take the baby from my doctor and over to the bed they had ready for her. I didn't hear her cry and craned my neck trying to see her. After they cleared her nose and wrapped her up he gave me a first glimpse of my girl (who still wasn't making a sound) and then they wheeled her out. She was able breath on her own for almost two hours before she had to go on the ventilator. We had the best anestiologist in the hospital and he stayed and talked with me while they closed me up and Jared went to the NICU with our girl.
The next thing I remember I was in the recovery room and I called my mom to tell her I had the baby. She was already trying to figure out how to get down to Reno but I told her not to come. Being a mom now, I realize how hard that must have been for her to not be there. But I didn't want anyone there. I wouldn't even see the room full of family we had patiently waiting. I guess it's because I didn't know how to handle it and I was trying so hard to be calm and strong, that I knew if I saw my family I would loose it. And I needed to not loose it.
Next came the longest 11 hours of my life. I wasn't allowed to get out of bed and I had these terrible compression boots on my legs that moved every few minutes, and an air bed that sounded like a plane taking off, but the worst was not being able to go be with my baby. Even with all the meds I couldn't sleep through that. I woke Jared a couple times to go down and check on our girl. He was my hero in the hospital. He so graciously washed all my pump stuff and patiently helped me through the learning curve (not like he knew what to do either). He stayed every night with me sleeping on the horrible uncomfortable chair bed. I don't know what I would've done without him.
At around 5 am the next morning they finally let me go see baby Charlotte for the first time. I'm so thankful for the calmness the nurses had. They made me feel so much better about a situation I now know wasn't good. I held her tiny hands and watched the machine breath for her. My heart was full and empty at the same time. "Can she cry?" I remember asking looking at the tube down her throat. I think I wanted them to tell me yes, just so I would know since she wasn't crying, she was okay. 
It's probably a good thing I was so drugged up those first few days. It was so hard to be excited amongst all the congratulations we were getting from friends and family, and it was even harder to attend my baby shower a couple weeks later. I didn't feel the happiness I expected to feel after having my baby. It wasn't sad postpartum blues, it was just terror. I didn't want to talk to anyone, even when things were going well I remained on edge hoping my positive updates wouldn't jinx Charlie's progress. On my third day in the hospital my doctor came in to discharge me and I asked if I could say an extra day in the hospital. I would've stayed the entire seven weeks if she let me. Sure the food was bad and the bed was a nightmare, and it cost more per might than a five star hotel, but I was steps away from my baby girl and nothing else mattered. Going home not pregnant and without her was torture. And as I relived it each day I visited and had to leave again without her it didn't get any easier. I often broke down as Jared and I left the hospital for the day and sometimes went back several times to say goodbye. I always worried in the back of my mind that it'd be my last time seeing her.
I think it goes without saying that some days were harder than others and ended (and began) with tears. I was too afraid to let myself be happy. Being happy would've meant I let my guard down. So I was just mad. I was mad that I wasn't pregnant anymore, and that I couldn't bring my baby home, and that I never got to pack my hospital bag. I was mad that I was not pregnant at my baby shower. And I was mad that I had to wake up at night to a pump only to have little milk come out, usually spilling on myself in my exhaustion. I felt so alone. The only time I didn't feel completely empty inside was when I was at the hospital. Charlie's NICU nurses were so amazing. Literally every single one of them deserves a medal. They somehow made everything bearable. I trusted them. And each and everyday I am grateful for them. They saved my baby. They taught me so much. They made me feel okay to be happy. And everyday she gained an ounce or finished a bottle or had a poopy diaper, I was the happiest, proudest mom in the world.
When I wasn't at the hospital I was thinking about being at the hospital. Or on the phone with someone at the hospital... Or pumping. So, so many hours spent pumping. I dreamt of the day I could put that pump in the deepest darkest corner of the earth. (I'll save the story for another day). For being such an early baby Charlie did extremely well. She didn't have to have any surgeries, or transfusions. She gave us only a few scares with her heart rate dropping or oxygen sats falling. But for the most part she proved to be a real fighter.
Bringing Charlie home:
It was a day I'd been anticipating for the last 46. Easily one of the happiest days of my life but not exactly that exciting experience I imagined it to be. I suppose all new moms are in some way scared that moment they leave the hospital with their new baby, but for me I think it was a whole new level. I would no longer know her oxygen sat or her heart rate, things I probably relied too much on in the NICU. I was so scared I'm sure I came of as angry. Overwhelmed would be an understatement of how I felt. But also happy. I don't think there's anything thy could describe the happiness I felt of not having to ask to hold my baby. My snuggle time wasn't limited to two hours anymore and she didn't have to leave my sight.
This last year has been the best, most terrifying, rewarding year of my life. I've watched Charlie grow and overcome obstacles. Today, she is a happy, healthy one year old! I cannot imagine my life without this bright, silly, feisty little peanut.
