Surprise?!?!?!?!!!!!!!

In an insanely crazy turn of events, and after a miserably uncomfortable Sunday, I went to bed Sunday night just hoping I'd feel better on Monday . . .

At 1230am I woke up to this uncontrollable sensation of wetting the bed. Within seconds I was pretty sure it was not pee - there was too much of it and I had no control of it. I woke up my husband, told him I was 99% sure my water broke, and called my midwife.

At this point, I had no doubt it was my water. My 36 week appointment to check for GBS was supposed to be Monday morning. Not knowing if I was positive or negative for that meant I needed to head into the hospital promptly for antibiotics. Possible exposure to GBS can make a newborn extremely sick. Particularly a pre-term newborn.

Having no contractions, and assuming I was going to be in labor for hours and hours, I called my mom who was our child care plan (and 2 hours away) and told her that she would probably need to think about getting on the road. I told my husband to go back to bed. I was taking myself to the hospital to start my antibiotics and what I assumed would be the SLOW labor process.

I get to the hospital, get hooked up to my IV, start the million questions they ask during admission, etc. And I finally get a bit settled with grand plans of getting a long hot shower once I finished my antibiotics...

And then the midwife intern comes in to introduce herself. Seriously, could someone be any nicer or sweeter? I liked her immediately. Until she took one press on my belly and asked, "We know he's head down?" Of course I told her that it was confirmed not once but twice with ultrasounds a couple weeks ago. She said, "Let me go get the midwife." I knew the concern - the intern thought he was breech again. Unfortunately, the midwife confirmed it with her own assessment and then an ultrasound for final confirmation. Frank breech.

Suddenly things became more urgent. When can your husband get here? This is NOT an emergency now, but should active labor start quickly, a breech baby with no amniotic fluid poses a very high risk for cord prolapse - a life threatening event.

Next think I know, I'm on the OR schedule for 5:30am to have this baby?!?!?!!!!

Making a long story short, my mom RACED into town. My husband RACED to the hospital. At 545am I was in surgical prep. At 628am they made the first incision. And at 637am, our absolutely perfect miracle was born. 6lbs 6ozs. And 20 inches long. A New Year's Eve baby.

Um, yeah. It's 3 days later and the whole story still feels surreal to me. I'm supposed to be uncomfortably pregnant growing another 10 pound giant. Yet, I'm going to be released from the hospital in the morning to take my 5lb ??ounce baby home. (He was 5lb 15ounces at last weight check. He's in the nursery right now for his last weight check before discharge in the morning.)

Post op was a whirlwind. I may blog more about my surgery later, or I may not. I haven't yet decided how I will best come to terms with some of what happened. But let's say that I was not nearly as numb as I think I should have been and the instant he was safely out, I was knocked out cold. So my memories of recovery are very vague - other than the puking - I remember lots of puking.

But more concerning during this time is that they couldn't bring the baby to me as he and his medical team were fighting to keep him out of the NICU. While 36 weeks isn't super early, Caucasian males have the slowest developing lungs of any neonate group and he was very grunty, not clearing his fluid well, not regulating his own temperature, and not maintaining his blood sugar. Any of those in isolation are fairly common, but all together meant they were having a hard time getting him to stabilize.

To say that I was a disaster hearing this news is an understatement. Particularly in my drug haze. But in hindsight of course, everyone was doing what was best for him and it was only about 4-5 hours after his birth before they brought him to me - stable and without needing a trip to the NICU.

And ever since that moment when I finally got to hold him . . . All has been right in the world. My nipples are sore. My incision hurts like hell. I'm sleep deprived. And I miss my 3 year old like crazy. But our perfect miracle is here. I look back at the journey of this blog. The heartache. The depression. The tears - oh, so many tears. And every step of this journey has brought me here. To this moment. With my second perfect little boy. A tiny (really tiny) human being with the most beautiful head of sandy brown hair you can imagine. Our son. Our miracle. I am one incredibly blessed mommy. Beyond blessed.