A Year Ago...

Well, today, one year ago, I was sitting at Dr. Robinett's office (my OB at Brookwood) hearing him tell me "It's time to get this baby out." If you spent any time with me at this time last year, you probably realize how uncomfortable and well, sick, I was. I had been spilling protein for months (sign of decreased kidney function), had 9+ lbs of baby pulling on my lower back, was taking about 5 times the amount of insulin that I am currently, and just felt yucky. So, it might stand to reason that I would have been so glad when Dr. R said that it was time to take B out...that I would have been relieved...and I guess I was to some degree. But the mama part of me just wasn't ready. I was 35 weeks and just wasn't ready to see another of my babies start their life in the NICU. While some of my friends that I'd seen have babies had some problems, the vast majority (90% or more) went to the hospital, had a 7 lb baby several hours later, and came home with their baby a day or two later. Going to the hospital to see my friends after their deliveries would mean walking into a room where mama is sipping on ice water and baby is swaddled comfy in the bassinette right by her bed or all snuggled up on her chest. But at my moment in my doctor's office, I knew that by him saying we had to deliver, it meant that I wouldn't get to have a baby put on my chest right after coming to the world; that I would have another c-section, never have the chance to have a 'natural' delivery; I knew that he would spend his first days learning and struggling to breathe by himself; I knew it would mean that his 'breathe, suck, swallow' instincts would take several days if not weeks to learn; I knew I might not see his eyes until he was several days old. I knew that it meant that I wouldn't be able to hold him until he was a day or so old.  I trusted God through all this, but was always aware that His plan didn't necessarily mean a healthy baby. I had been told by Dr. R that male preterm babies have a harder time that female preterm babies. Vivi was such a superstar when she was born...at 34 weeks. But, I had been given a steroid injection upon my admittance to the hospital (at 32 weeks) to develop her lungs. So I just wasn't sure with Bryton...didn't know how he'd do on his own.

Anyway, fast (fast!) forward to today - we had his birthday party this weekend, he wants to walk really bad (really badly? real bad?), he'd flirt and flash his grin to a pickle jar if it would smile back at him, and is just doing great. He's eating almost everything we eat, enjoys being held, read to, played with, and playing with the dollhouse in Vivi's room when she's away. He's doing great with a sippy cup (water only) and his snack trap (which Lexie loves...the occasional treat hits the floor). He's still nursing a couple of times a day, but getting most of his nutrients from table food.

And me? I've had 2 doctor appointments (check ups) with no protein evidenced, my A1C's are in acceptable diabetic range, and even though I had the eye problems, I recovered from the stress the pregnancy put on my body. The pregnancy weight is gone (has been for a while), even though the shape is not...not sure how that happens...but it's a very small price to pay to have 2 precious little lives gifted to me.

So, thanks to everyone who prayed us through the pregnancy and delivery and first year of B's precious life.

Happy Birthday Bryton!