Today would be Peter's one month birthday had he been born on his due date . . . as I reflect back on what I expected my pregnancy and his birth to be like I am wistful for what should have been and still thankful for what actually was . . .
When I found out I was pregnant I can honestly say I wasn't overwhelmed with feelings of elation. Brad and I had truly come to terms with the fact that it was going to be just us two. We had really started to focus on living our life with no regrets and moving toward the carefree lifestyle of the DINKS we were. I had just lost 140 pounds and was feeling pretty confident that I could lose the last 30 to get down to my goal. Life was good . . . and then, the fateful two lines...
I was "happy" the first time I saw that little blob on the ultrasound screen . . . I got a little choked up the first time I heard the little thump, thump of his tiny heart . . . I was totally smitten by the time I saw that extra little appendage and announced to our family "it turns out, I have a penis!" . . .
Then, in my typical over-planning fashion I began compiling "the plan" . . .
What will we need to buy (and I made a list divided by store)
What will we need to take to the hospital (and I made a list of things to pack ahead)
How much time will I take off work (and I made a list of how perfect having a baby in July is)
What type of birth do I want to have (and I made a list of pros and cons - yes, epidural- no, water birth)
What classes do I need to sign us up for (and I made a list)
Then I started really thinking . . .
I can't do this (and Brad made me watch "Teen Mom" if they can do this, I certainly can)
Maybe I can do this without the epidural . . . (probably not, but maybe I'll try)
Will I love him from the start (or will I resent him for making me fat :)
I better get some books ("What to Expect...")
Then, my blood pressure went up . . .
Things were moving way too quickly (let's just get you to 35 weeks - what happened to 40???)
Things were moving way to slowly (bedrest sucks)
I was still thinking everything would be ok . . .
I was looking forward to getting all plump and distended (its part of the experience, right)
I was looking forward to rushing to the hospital (we only live 6 blocks away, not too dramatic)
I was looking forward to the contractions (ok, not the bad ones, but the first ones where you know it is almost time)
I was looking forward to having Brad rub my back during labor (anything for rubs!)
I was looking forward to that final painful push (that means my little man is here and safe)
I was looking forward to his slimy little body being laid on my chest for the first time (and you all know how I feel about sauce)
I was looking forward to putting him in his coming home outfit (cute little elephant)
I was looking forward to our family welcoming us home (with signs and balloons on the front door)
I was looking forward to that first nap on the sofa (all snuggly as a family)
But, none of that ever happened . . .
Right now, pregnant women the world over are complaining . . .
I'm so hot . . .
My ankles are the size of my thighs...
I can't breathe . . .
Did I mention that I am hot?!? . . .
These contractions are the devil . . .
C-Sections are incredibly painful (ok, I did get to experience that one)
I would have given anything to be hot, out of breath, contracting, distended, exhausted and miserable just to let my sweet little boy stay in a perfect environment . . .
The problem was, my environment wasn't perfect . . .
The blood flow to Peter's placenta was diminishing rapidly
The amniotic fluid was depleted
There was a blood clot on the placenta
Peter could not grow in this environment
So, he was delivered, 10 weeks early via c-section . . .
I walked into the hospital, never having had a single contraction
I spent two full days on magnesium sulfate . . . sick, sicker than I have ever been
I got two painful steroid shots . . .
I walked into the operating room . . . there were 16 people in the room, not counting me or Peter
Brad was outside the door (scared and heartbroken)
I had two spinals, neither of which worked . . .
I was put under general anesthesia . . .
I was put under general anesthesia . . .
I woke up so itchy I could barely stand it . . .
They gave me drugs to helps . . .
They made me nauseaous . . .
They gave me more drugs to help with that . .
I didn't see Peter for the first 12 hours of his life and if I am being totally honest I don't remember that
I spent 9 days in the hospital
I didn't get to touch Peter until days after he was born
I missed out on ALOT . . .
BUT
I was still blessed by so many things that those hot, out of breath, contracting distended, exhausted, miserable women experience . . .
10 fingers and 10 toes (albeit tiny)
the first cry (after 5 days on the venitlator)
snuggling, skin to skin (with the help of a nurse to position him just right so all his wires were still in place)
love, incredible, immediate, powerful and life-altering(there's no caveat to this one - it just is)
worrying if he's eating enough (if not, he had to have it fed through a tube)
is he breathing? (just a quick check of the monitor let me know)
is he breathing? (just a quick check of the monitor let me know)
the first day home (exhausted, but not as much as the "other" women...my c-section healed weeks ago)
So, here we are . . . three months later (what should have been one month later)
He has worn that cute little elephant outfit (and outgrown it)
We got an awesome banner from our family welcoming him home (when he was almost two months old)
We snuggle on the sofa ALL the time
Peter is beautiful . . . he is cuddly and a wiggle worm and very serious.
I love him with intesity beyond my grasp . . .
I want everything for him . . .
I want him to experience all the joys of this world . . .
and none of the hurts . . .
I want him to know that my love is neverending, unconditional and all-encompassing . . . 
