after Tea and Cakes and Ices: one year of precious life

our first-born is one year old today.

every day with him has been a gift, a surprise, an unexpected wonder.

on october 1st one year ago, at 4:00 in the morning, we thought he had died in the womb. i was just 31 weeks pregnant and i woke to back ache and blood and no movement from the baby. after spending time on the phone with the midwife, we went to the ER. i'll never forget that short, ten-minute drive from our apartment to the hospital. it was dark and cool, and the streets in the center city were oddly empty. we didn't speak. i felt in a dream-- and yet my head was startlingly clear as i imagined the various steps we would go through to deliver a still-born baby. who was i to think this could never happen to us?

when we arrived at the hospital, the first thing the nurse did was check to make sure there was a heartbeat-- and there was, a strong, familiar, whoosh-whoosh, whoosh-whoosh. tears filled our eyes, but we didn't have time to process our child was alive before my midwife informed us that i was in active labor, 5 cm dilated, and having this baby today.

of course, they did everything they could to stop the labor--or at least slow it down. i lay on my back to try to keep gravity from doing its job. i had magnesium flowing into my veins, making me feel feverish and flu-like. it would be better not to get up and move around and therefore had to have a catheter. they took blood twice while i was in labor. i threw up.

i labored mostly lying on my side while josh and my mom took turns applying counter-pressure to my back.
i had planned not to have any pain medication, and though i stuck with that plan, it wasn't your peaceful, enya-playing-in-the-background, orgasmic natural childbirth. it was hard, hard work, and i lost control (read: screamed) for the last hour.

but tiny, 3lb-14oz clive ransom was born at 4 in the afternoon, resuscitated by the NICU team while his father watched, and brought over for me to see and touch before being wheeled to the NICU.

he spent the first 29 days of his life in the NICU (and NPCN), and we were so thankful for levine children's hospital and the nurses and doctors there.

meanwhile, i was on top of the world for a good two weeks or so. they say that the feel-good endorphins you get after giving birth naturally are incredible-- and that is the TRUTH. i loved staying in the hospital-- the nurses were fabulous, the food was delicious (tilapia piccatta... i still dream about it), friends and family were constantly present, and i wasn't sick pregnant anymore. i felt incredible. my child was in the intensive care unit in the hospital, but i was happy, peaceful, excited. i remember thinking, shouldn't i be stressed or sad? and of course, i was sad each morning, afternoon, evening that i left ransom after a visit. i wanted to take him home. but the feeling of thankfulness that he was alive, that he was being taken care of, overwhelmed any feeling of sadness.

in the three days we spent in the hospital, the weather changed. when we came out to go home, it was crisp and cold, and the farmer's market had put out their pumpkins. this year, the coming of fall brings strong memories of walking from our car to the children's hospital, passing the fountain and colorful lights.

those 29 days that he was in the NICU i spent pumping every three hours, including at night, teaching one of my classes i'd had to suddenly drop, and visiting ransom two or three times each day. it was in the NICU that he first saw his mama and daddy, was first cuddled, and first learned to nurse. he learned to suck, swallow, and breathe on his own, fought jaundice and a brain bleed, endured many shots and an IV that ran nearly the length of his body.

it was mostly a peaceful time. after a week off, josh went back to school and work and spent his spare time doing homework or at the hospital. i actually cooked and cleaned. when we crawled into bed late nights after getting home from the hospital, we mostly whispered how beautiful our son was, how strong, how brave.

but sometimes we would talk about losing him. and we could only say, if everything is lost, thanks be to God. and, all shall be most well.

then, ransom passed his last test--sitting in the car seat for half an hour without dropping his oxygen numbers--

and we took him home.