Just last month, on March 9, we celebrated John’s fourth birthday. Funny though, we should have been celebrating it closer to April 12. That was his due date. Back in 2009, I had plans to teach through spring break and then spend my break, my “last week of freedom,” nesting around the house and buying those final few things all new mommies need...crib sheets, diapers, caffeinated coffee. But instead, in early March, I found myself sitting at my desk, alternating between grading papers and timing contractions. My amazing doctor did all she could to keep the baby baking for a few more days, but after a few trips to the hospital, various shots and pills, and an all out ban on chocolate, John decided to show up five weeks early. He’s been in a hurry ever since (unless it’s a school morning)!
I remember sitting on the edge of the bed in the labor room eating a cherry popsicle when the neonatal doctor came in to talk to Chase and me. He was there to prepare us for what might happen when the baby arrived. We were told to expect problems related to breathing and regulating body temperature off the bat. Later, we would have to monitor weight gain. I don’t think I absorbed enough of what he was saying to be scared...I was so obsessed with that cherry popsicle! (Why don’t they let you eat in labor??!) Chase and I were nervous, but it was really run of the mill first-time-parent-nervous. We didn’t fully comprehend that we were supposed to be baby’s-coming-too-early-nervous, too.
Amazingly, John was born at five pounds and had no immediate health issues. We bundled him up like we were living in the Arctic (two hats and two blankets at all times!), turned the thermostat in my hospital room up as high as we could stand it and John was able to hold his core temperature. He stayed one extra night in the hospital nursery to be sure he put on a few more ounces before we took him home. Leaving him overnight was the hardest thing I had ever done. My heart hurt in a way I had never experienced before. I had no idea I could love someone so completely and so fiercely, and I had only just met him a two days prior. I counted the seconds until we could return to the hospital the next day and bring our new baby boy home.
It turned out that John’s challenge would be weight gain. In those early days, the doctors had us feeding him every 90 minutes. We’d finish a feeding, change a diaper, lay him down and start all over a few minutes later. He was so tired all the time, we had to strip him naked, tickle his feet and pump his little arms to get him to wake up and be alert enough to eat. At one point, we were feeding him with a syringe like he was a little bird. His tiny body wasn’t ready to do all the things it needed to “on the outside.”
My obstetrician couldn’t pinpoint a reason for John’s early arrival. Maybe it was stress, maybe being on my feet too much. In the weeks leading up to delivery I was healthy and so was my baby. We made it through those early days and weeks at home and John eventually started gaining weight and eating better. But it was obvious he would have benefited from a few more days or weeks of belly time if we could have delayed labor longer. This was apparent again during John’s first winter. Every virus he picked up went straight to his lungs and caused terrifying breathing problems. We began a course of nebulizer treatments, often up to eight a day with various medicines. We are so glad that we have been able to phase these out as he has gotten older. We don’t know with certainty that these breathing issues were related to John’s premature arrival, but we do know that lung development happens up until the end of the third trimester, and he missed out on some of that time. (For more information about the problems associated with premature birth, please visit www.marchofdimes.org.)
Fast forward to 2011. When I found out I was pregnant again, I worried. This time I was more aware. I knew what contractions felt like this time. I knew what the risks were of having a premature baby. I had more frequent check ups with my OB. I went on medicine to help relax the contractions that started early in my third trimester. I got steroid shots to boost the baby’s lung development. I stayed off my feet as much as I could with a two-year-old to entertain. Everything seemed to be going fine...until it wasn’t. Maybe I pushed myself too hard. Maybe it was the extreme July heat. Maybe the baby just didn’t want me to get my hotdog and Aroldis Chapman action figure at the Reds game that weekend. In any case, when my water broke in a Cincinnati hotel room on Saturday, July 16, my baby was only 33 and a half weeks gestation. I kept my cool on the outside, but inside I knew this was going to be a different experience than before.
Our sweet Lucy Catherine arrived early the next morning and weighed in at five pounds, three ounces. I was able to hold her for a few moments before she was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). When I visited her later, she was on a warming bed with wires connecting her to various monitors. Could I hold her? Kiss her on her forehead? Feed her? I was so unsure about so many things, especially what her early days would be like.
We received amazing care from the NICU team. The nurses made sure I had a comfortable chair and privacy screens for nursing. They helped me figure out how to hold Lucy without disconnecting all the monitoring devices or tangling the wires. They assured me it didn’t hurt her when I pulled something loose accidentally and patiently showed me how to navigate said wires while (sponge) bathing her. They were nice, but firm, when they told it me it was time to put Lucy back in the isolette after a long cuddle session. The doctors answered every question, sometimes multiple times, including that one most important question: when was she coming home?
There was also the support of the volunteers from March of Dimes. They sponsored programs and dinners, they furnished a “break room” for parents on the same floor as the NICU. They honored milestones in the lives of these fragile babies and helped parents be advocates for their babies as needed.
What I realized quickly was how fortunate we were. Our neighbors in the NICU had been there longer and would still be there when we left 16 days later. We had insurance to pay for our care when others didn’t. We had a home just a few miles away and loving family and friends to bring us food and help take care of John while I went back and forth to the hospital. We are so incredibly blessed and we believe these blessings come with the responsibility to advocate and care for those who are not as fortunate.
So this all bring us to today, to our two growing, thriving, talkative, creative children. Two children who never stop moving, who are curious and inquisitive, who show incredible capacity to love. We are walking with the March of Dimes on May 11 in honor of them.
Please join us in supporting the mission of the March of Dimes:
- Walk with us! You can join our team “Speedy Speidens” on Saturday, May 11 at Waterfront Park. The 5K walk begins at 9 am. Join us for a lovely walk and show your support for the March of Dimes! Go to http://www.marchforbabies.org/team/t2064454 to join our team.
- Donate in honor of our team, in honor of your family, or in honor of the babies born every day who arrive too soon. Your donation goes to research to help all babies have a healthy start in life. Go to http://www.marchforbabies.org/team/t2064454 to make a pledge of support.
- Raise your awareness. Visit www.marchofdimes.org to learn more about prematurity and the gains being made in research on infant health.
We are blessed, we are lucky, we are so fortunate. This is a chance for us to return our favor to other families and give their babies the healthiest possible start in life. Please join us!
With love and many thanks,
Beth, Chase, John & Lucy Speiden
Speedy Speiden’s Team Page:
Very well written, and your story will make every parent realize how blessed and fortunate they are to have healthy, thriving children. :)
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