In My Gut – Something wasn’t right with my preemie
All through my pregnancy with Obi (dubbed Obi because she was the result of a single remaining embryo from an IVF cycle, and that embryo at the time, made me think of Princess Leia’s plea to Kenobi in holograph form in Star Wars – “Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.”) I had a gut feeling something wasn’t right.
At every turn there were people telling me it was ‘just this’ or ‘just that’ but the pregnancy just wasn’t the same as the 39 weeks I spent brewing my boy.
She arrived at 34 weeks 4 days, remarkably growth restricted, in distress, via emergency c-section for being breech. As they were prepping me, my water broke, which reinforced the idea that she needed to come out – NOW.
My tiny 1690g girl entered the world with a team of specialists standing by but surprised all by letting out a tiny shriek and breathing room air from the start.
She headed off to the NICU where all preemie babies go and I headed off to recovery and there was lots of discussion about symmetrical IUGR and placental problems and best case and so on. She was tiny and I was in love and she was healthy and all that, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she just wasn’t like the boy.
I asked a million questions but everyone had a logical answer.
Everybody who cared for her saw each of my misgivings as a ‘good sign’. And I started to hush my gut and chalk it up to the trauma. And she got a little bigger. And I put a little more distance between myself and the unpleasant pregnancy and the 25 day NICU stay and life as a preemie mom. I started to let my guard down. I told my gut to shut the fuck up. And I just loved my itty bitty baby girl. As it should be.