From the moment you were conceived I knew that you were going to be an itty bitty ball of fury.
First of all I gained more weight with you in the first few months then I did the entire pregnancy with your brother…hell I don’t think I even had to buy maternity clothes until my 9th month with him. But not you….nooooo you were determined to try and stretch out my hips, although they never did so instead the weight went right to my ass which wasn’t really a bad thing considering I have always needed a little more junk in my trunk.
At 19 weeks I finally was able to get your daddy to come to the doctor with me, it was his birthday, and I could see the look of excitement on his face. (or maybe it was that look of fear that he suddenly realized that you were a girl and he had no clue what to do with little girls. We settled into the exam room and they unleashed that freezing gel on my belly and began the ultrasound. Your daddy and I smiled at each other while he held my hand. The ultrasound tech looked very serious about something on her screen. We asked her “Is something wrong?’ She didn’t reply but asked if we had received an amniocentesis. With our first pregnancy we were told that the odds of having a miscarriage after having said procedure were higher then something being wrong with the baby and basically was adamant about not getting it done….so we didn’t…and B came out perfect as could be. Therefore once again we had decided to take that same route. I mean who wants to make decisions whether to abort you because you may have defects or may not live long after the birth when I have already heard your heartbeat and bought your first outfit and given you a NAME!!! I am sure to each there own but for me this was a no brainer….I already loved you…I wanted you to be a part of this crazy chaotic family who would love you no matter what.
The ultrasound tech left the room and we waited for what seemed like hours. My stomach wrapped in knots not knowing a thing about what was going on. Your daddy however was cool as a cucumber, just irritated that the doctor was making us wait so long. In comes the doctor and he tells us that in the ultrasound they found chlorid plexus cysts on both sides of your brain. Everything of my being drained out of me that moment. I could see the doctors lips moving but all I could hear was silence.
When reality finally came back into focus he explained to me that this condition was a marker for trisomy 18…I had read about it in my baby books and it wasn’t good. The good news was that this was the only marker they had found and that these types of cysts were very common and usually go away by themselves around 30 weeks. He told us not to worry which was like telling the pope not to pray. He told us not to go looking everything up on the internet which of course I did as soon as we left the building. And continued to do so for the next several days.
I found good and bad information…I found support groups…pictures…everything that was so overwhelming to me. I cried to myself. Your daddy was the strong one telling me to just stay positive because everything would be ok. In my heart I believed him but in my mind…I just couldn’t shut it down. We decided together that we wouldn’t tell any family because why worry them too. So we waited….and waited…at each ultrasound they would measure the cysts and tell us that they were getting smaller or they had remained the same. One of them had finally disappeared around week 30 and I felt a wave of relief for the first time in 11 weeks until I remembered that the bigger one (still quite large in size) still remained.
Finally, on my 34 week ultrasound, they informed me that the cyst had completely gone away. Happy, relief, grateful, overjoyed….there wasn’t a word to describe my feelings in that moment. And now I only had to wait to meet you. Your coming into the world was no easy task either. First the doctor who delivered you decided he wanted to go on a vacation when he was supposed to deliver you by c-section. And you of course stayed bundled in there until he came back and was ready to deliver you. Then here you were for me to lay my eyes upon.
Your daddy and I were so happy to see you but you had problems breathing due to swallowing some fluid on your way out so off to the NICU you went. Luckily for me I was still in and out of consciousness from the aftermath of drugs but your poor daddy had to witness every poking and prodding of your tiny little arms as they tried to look for your veins to place the IV into. I had never seen him so upset.
When I was finally coherent I was able to visit you in the NICU. There were so many tiny babies in there. Such a mixture of sadness and joy all stirring through the walls of this place. Parents so happy to meet their little ones but watching them take every little breath through a machine. Then there was 9 pound 7 ounce …YOU. Imagine the looks I got from people when I am in the NICU with an over normal sized baby. It was hard seeing you laying there with all these tubes running in and out of you and listening to the little wheezing noise you were making. I managed to make my way around the tubes and wires to hold you in my arms for the first time.
You were mine…you were perfect…and no one could have told me otherwise. You were there three days and I too stayed in the hospital even though my doctor had discharged me long before that. I wanted to be where you were…or as close as I could be.
Three months after you were born you had to have surgery to remove a skin tag on your ear. The doctors said it was a common thing and of course not to worry. But of course I had to research it on the internet. Your daddy was away for work so it was brother B and I to get you to the hospital. I had thought about just leaving it but then one day while visiting a friend and her children asked what that was on your ear and I knew then that it needed to be removed. The world is cruel and although I know you are going to be strong I decided you wouldn’t even remember having it and I wouldn’t have to beat someone up for making fun of your “extra” skin.
Now you are a healthy (and usually happy) 3 year old. You find every way to push the envelope with me and I see more and more of myself in you everyday. You are growing so fast…please slow down…cause I just know that I am not ready for the “teenage” years with you.