For a starting place, read here.

Welcome to this blog - this place that I have created to share my story. Actually, it's more than that. It's the story of my family, and all the people in my life, and how I came to dwell in this land that I call the Preemie Momma Spot. And it's also going to be the place where I share my feelings about parenting as a preemie momma.

My daughter was born seven weeks early at the end of January 2013.

I had been working as a sales associate at a local retail store during my whole pregnancy, which had been blissfully easy. My husband and I endured several years of fertility treatments and finally conceived using IVF, so I jokingly referred to my easy pregnancy as my reward for enduring all the treatments and the many, many painful moments it took to get there. As I said, I had been progressing throughout my pregnancy with little to no problems with the exception of some back pain that I chalked up to the long hours on my feet.

I took breaks often and always put my feet up, kept myself well hydrated, ate well and often, and generally took good care of myself. I had told my boss that I needed to reduce my hours, but due to many factors, it was difficult to actually work less. Go figure. But the back pain persisted, as well as an escalation of what I thought were Braxton Hick's contractions. I would sometimes need to sit to make them go away, but that's what all the literature said would happen, so I didn't worry too much. Also, I had no other symptoms of labor, and the contractions and pain went away completely when I rested. At this point, I was seeing the doctor about every two weeks.

When it came time for my next appointment, I mentioned the back pain and a feeling of pressure, and asked her to "check me." To our mutual surprise, I was about 90% effaced and already dilated 3 centimeters. What followed was a week's worth of effort aimed at stopping my labor. If my daughter had been head down, I probably would have been sent home and told to come back if my water broke or if my contractions settled into a pattern or progression. Instead, she was breech, leaving her vulnerable to a cord prolapse, and also increasing the likelihood that her head could get stuck in the birth canal should my labor progress naturally.

So...I stayed in the hospital, confined to the bed except for showers and bathroom trips (which I had to get assistance with, EVERY TIME, because of the meds and my IV.) It was not a pleasant time. I did however gain a new appreciation for the difference between a good nurse and a mediocre one, and renewed my appreciation for chocolate pudding, as well as developing  what can only be described as an unhealthy hankering for the sleep that comes with good drugs. Ha.

In spite of all the effort of my doctors and nurses, my labor did not stop, and progressed to eight centimeters over a week. The good news was that the steroids had the time they needed to work to develop her lungs, and I didn't have any labor pain to speak of, but had been in labor for nearly a week or more.

The Operating room, just prior to Rana's entrance. Lookin pretty rough there, mama. 

A flurry of activity to get me ready, and before I knew it, I was walking into the operating room and getting the spinal block. After that, it was only a few minutes and my daughter was born via emergency cesarean. She was large for her gestational age, 5 pounds 8 ounces. I saw her for a few seconds before they rushed her to the NICU. 

She was beautiful and I was in love instantly.

Rana's second day in the NICU

That was when I became a preemie momma.

My first time to hold her, nearly 10 hours later that day.

Next time, I'll tell you about how I settled in, nesting in the NICU and when I learned how NOT to cope.