2 WEEKS OLD

10/19/12 Dear Addison, You are 2 weeks old. However, I feel that I've had you by my side for much longer. I could not imagine life without you now. I wouldn't even want to try. When the time comes for you to have your own baby, people will tell you over and over that your own child will bring about a type of love that you've never imagined. It's true. You will have to wait to experience it for yourself, as it is not describable.

The last several months of the pregnancy were fairly stressful. I had to see a high risk OB specialist and a regular OB twice a week. Every Tuesday and Thursday, they would hook monitors up to my uterus and your heart beat. They would then expect your heart to accelerate 15 beats above your baseline for 15 seconds, at least 3 times in 15-30 minutes. You never passed that test. The technicians would bring out a buzzer/vibrator and apply it to my stomach to scare you. They would do this as many as 3 times and you could have cared less. After they labeled your test "non-reactive" which is tech talk for "fail", they would perform an US and you would be just fine. We would watch you stretching and yawning on the screen. But the US tech would then find that your amniotic fluid was too high which put us at risk for a prolapsed cord…a fatal condition. These doctors never ceased to keep me worried to death about one thing or the other. But, as long as I saw you moving on the US I stayed somewhat calm.

After months of this routine you eventually had an US in which they attempted to get you to move for 30 minutes. You finally did move, but it was a scary time. At the next US, you were slow to move again. The amniotic fluid was still high. My own heart rate, even though medicated, was no longer controlled, and I was worried about how that affected you. During the first 7 months of the pregnancy, I was sick. Very sick. However, that did not compare to how I felt when I saw your movement declining. I became determined to get you out. I felt that you would be much safer outside the womb where we could take care of you. I was a woman on a mission. I explained to both doctor's that it was time for you to come out, and I meant now. I explained that we had done our part by attending biweekly appointments in which they would scare us to death but do nothing differently. I had enough. It was time for action. Both doctor's agreed that a c-section at 39 weeks would be best.

The day before your c-section, I started having contractions. I had them all day and wasn't sure we would make it to the next day. But, we did. Your Daddy and I woke up around 230 am to get ready to head to the hospital. We were hooked up to those same uterus and heart monitors that had haunted us along the way and we were able to see that I was having a few contractions. At 8:00 am, the doctor was ready to perform the surgery. They had me walk to the OR. Your Daddy was told to wait in the hall and they would call him before the incision was made.

I received a spinal block and was laid on the table. Almost instantly, I felt paralyzed from the upper chest down. My blood pressure quickly dropped to a systolic level of 56. I was turned on my side while my body heaved, trying to throw up. I honestly felt like I was dying and I was so worried about you. The anesthesiologist gave me epinephrine and another med to bump the blood pressure back up. In less than two minutes, I was feeling much better. They brought your Daddy in and the surgery started. My blood pressure periodically dropped during the procedure, but they would push more medication that helped. My heart rate was high and your Daddy kept telling me to calm down. I couldn't calm down. I was so anxious to heart your first cry and to hear that you were ok. I wanted to see your little face pop over the surgical drape.

Our surgery was on a Friday. On Tuesday of that week, your US showed that you were clearly head down and ready for delivery. After what seemed like forever, I heard the doctor reach your little body and announced that you were frank breech…"butt first". I heard them say that I had a lot of amniotic fluid and to watch out. I heard them say that you had meconium in the fluid. I laid there waiting for that first cry. It never came. They pulled you from me and you were limp. You didn't cry. You didn't make a sound. They didn't show you to me. The OR was very quiet. They whisked you away and I could hear them hitting your back. You weren't making any sound. They wouldn't let your Daddy go check on you. It was my worst nightmare. We were scared to death. I've never been that scared and I still have trouble thinking about that time. The pictures that the staff took of your limp body are hard to look at.

Finally, they let your Daddy go check on you while they continued to work on you in the OR. I was left paralyzed and cut open. Helpless. I kept asking over and over and over, "Is she ok?" Nobody could tell me, because nobody knew. I could still hear them hitting your little body and working on you. I couldn't hear your Daddy. I knew that you were not ok.

After what seemed like an absolute eternity, your Daddy came to tell me that you were "beautiful and perfect" but they were still working on you. He went back over and about 5 minutes later, they brought you over and laid you very close to my face. They passed you to your Daddy and he held you there. My first memory of you is the softness of your face. I couldn't believe how soft it was. You still weren't crying. You had little bubbles coming out of your mouth and they didn't let you stay with me long.

You were taken away again and I was left to get sewn up. It was torture. I was desperate for information. Your Daddy went to the nursery with you. I was eventually taken to my recovery room. While the nurse assessed me, I asked when I could see you, when I could hold you, when I would know how you were. I was not ok. I have great difficulty even typing this because I experienced a deep, deep fear. Eventually, your Daddy arrived back in my room. He explained that you were taken to the NICU and you were on oxygen. It was assumed that you had some fluid in your lungs, because you were breathing too fast and your oxygen saturation level was below 80%. I sent your Daddy back to be with you and started asking my nurse when I could see you. She said I would have to stay in the room a while until I resumed some feeling in my legs, but that she would attempt to wheel my bed into the NICU after I was considered stable.

I was in some state of shock, I think. I just laid there, stared at everybody that came to the hospital to see you, and waited. After an eternity, they wheeled me to your bedside. I was not prepared. You had so many tubes and lines all over and inside of your little body. I am a nurse and still nothing could have prepared me. I begged to hold you. The nurse told me no, but she must have seen something in my eyes because she suddenly put you in my lap for about 10 seconds before taking you back. She then informed me that I would not be able to see you again until the next day because I would not be allowed to leave my bed due to the need to recover. I obeyed until 8pm that night. I told your Daddy I was going to the NICU to see you. Period. They couldn't stop me. So, he went and found us a wheelchair and I unhooked my IV fluids, my blood pressure cuff, pulse oximetry, SCD's, and picked up my catheter and made my way into that chair. We made it to the NICU and I sat in the chair by your side. They wouldn't let me hold you or feed you. You were receiving nutrition through IV fluids. I was so worried that you were hungry. I wasn't able to stay long because my nurse found me. She said that her nurse's aide told her I was a missing patient so she started looking for me. She lectured me a little, but it was totally worth it.

The next day we visited you as often as we could. They still wouldn't let us hold you and that was very, very hard to deal with. You had visitors, but they would only let parents and grandparents see you. The physician made rounds and informed us that if your oxygen saturation stayed high enough on room air through two feedings, he would let us have you in our room that night, starting at 8pm. That was great news! We went and visited you at 5pm. I told the nurse that I still hadn't held you or fed you. She said that was about to change and finally, finally you were placed in my arms. The feeling was surreal. You had an IV in your head and it just made you look like you were in pain. I asked them repeatedly to take it out, but they said they couldn't. We stayed as long as we could and were told that we couldn't visit from 6-8, but if you passed your oxygen test, we could come get you at 8pm and to check back then.

At 8pm, we got the wheelchair out and started out of our room. We were met by your nurse who said that you were free to room with us! That was the best news ever. I felt instant relief to finally be able to have you near me and to be able to take care of you myself. You still had an IV in your head and it kept falling in your face so your Daddy got some tape from one of the nurses and taped it up. He said it looked like you had a single dreadlock.

We enjoyed showing you off to visitors and we spent a lot of time begging you to eat as much as the doctors said you had to in order to be discharged. We were told that we would likely be released the next day and we were. We dressed you in the going home dress that we picked out, took a million pictures of you, and took you home. We couldn't wait to take you in your nursery and put you in your bassinet.

We had a hard time getting you to eat at first, but unlike at the hospital, I mostly let you set your own schedule and eat how much you feel you need. You don't like to sleep at night, but you sure sleep a lot during the day. You are bright eyed and have a funny little personality. You are already smiling and you pop your eyes open at the sound of your name. You refuse to sleep in your bassinet. You scream your little head off if we try to leave you in it. You like to sleep right by me, with your face glued to mine. You will occasionally sleep in your moses basket, if it's in the bed with us. But, you still wake up and cry to sleep with me every couple of hours. I try to let you and then return you to your basket as much as possible. You are already so spoiled. But, I don't care. I like to cuddle with you at night. You like to eat a couple ounces every two hours. You are a hard sleeper during the day or when you are in your car seat. No matter the loudness of noise, you will sleep away. You hate to take a bath and you hate for your cord stump to be cleaned. You don't like us to dress you and you fight as hard as possible while we are changing your diapers or dressing you. You are actually pretty strong for a two week old. You aren't overly obsessed with your paci, but you do like it. You make a noise that sounds like a goat when you are happy and content. You love to ride in the car and fall asleep almost immediately once you are put in your car seat. You are a very beautiful child and not just because you are mine. You have genuine beauty. You like to listen to your Daddy read to you and you like music. You have little monkey toes that make your feet look like hands.

You have a rare birthmark on the right side of your head. It's about the size of a half dollar and you are bald there, and you will never grow hair in that area. You have to see a dermatologist soon. From what we're told, you will have a high chance of developing melanoma after you hit puberty and they will want to remove it at that time. Your hair is already growing fast and covering the bald spot. You also have to undergo an ultrasound of your hips because you were breech. They will rule out hip dysplasia. Because of the position you were in, inside the womb, you like to sleep with your feet straight up in the air! It's the funniest thing!

You are absolutely perfect.