By Erin, adopting mama blogger

Well, Isaac turned 3 last Saturday. I can’t believe it. He picked out a Dora cake, and we had a great day of presents, Fayetteville Farmer’s Market, and a small pizza party in the evening. Writing his birth story really threw me for a loop – I could not stop thinking about my time on bedrest, his birth, and the months after his birth. When Isaac turned 1, I had a difficult emotional reaction. I kept reliving all of the drama, and it was hard on me. Also, at Isaac’s first birthday, we still based his age in terms of his adjusted age – the age he SHOULD have been, rather than how many months he really was. Since Isaac was almost 3 ½ months early, as his first birthday approached, he was really like a 9-month-old in terms of size and development. We gave him some cake, but he was really too young to know what to do or to enjoy it. By the time he turned 2, Isaac had pretty much caught up to his “true” age – we did not need to adjust his age to consider his prematurity any longer. His second birthday was not difficult for me – I did not “relive” his birth or time in the hospital. It really did not cross my mind that much. This year, once again, I have been haunted by all it took to get him where he is today. This was enhanced by the fact that an acquaintance of mine just gave birth to a 26-week preemie in Little Rock. Writing his birth story was cathartic, and I think very necessary, but it was difficult, and caused me to reflect deeply on all that occurred. Michael and I talked and talked about it, and neither of us have very clear memories of the hours between my flight to Little Rock and Isaac’s birth the next morning at 6:49 a.m. Michael read my version, and he thinks I got it mostly right, so we will stick with it as “official”!

After Isaac was born, they whisked him away to get him breathing and hooked up to critical machinery and medicines. My parents and Michael’s parents arrived soon after he was born. After about thirty minutes, they were able to bring Isaac (unnamed at this point) for us to quickly see him.

This is his very first picture – I think it’s amazing. The family gathered around, as Michael and I carefully looked at our beautiful, yet eerily small and strange looking, new son. We were thrilled, proud, in love, and scared to death. We were exhausted. To me, this picture looks EXACTLY like Isaac – I can see him in his face and hands. It’s interesting how our experiences change us, but now I find tiny micro-preemies to be the most beautiful of babies – so fragile, so tiny, so amazingly perfect, so full of vast amounts of strength and fortitude – they amaze me. They just shut out the world the best that they can and work and work to grow and develop – it’s hard work even INSIDE the womb, but outside . . . Isaac was a fully intense being from the moment he was born. He did NOT want to be bothered – micro-preemies cannot stand noise or touch of any kind, they need quiet, dark and the minimum of handling in order to keep from being over-stimulated. We used to joke that Isaac would stop breathing (yes, he would) if we just LOOKED at him the wrong way. Mostly, we just sat by his isolette (modern term for incubator) and watched him, and finally, as he got bigger and stronger, got to touch him and hold him. I will NEVER forget the first time I changed his diaper, through the port holes of the isolette, while he was still on a ventilator, and UPSIDE down. Yes, we did not flip him, we just changed his diaper while he was on his tummy – the teeniest little diapers you have ever seen – and CHEERED because it was full of pee and weighed enough on the scale! (you have to measure output to make sure systems are functioning properly)

Back to the story – we got to see Isaac, and then they took him the level three NICU to get him situated and hooked up to every wire, cord, tube, and needle, that you can imagine. Michael left shortly after that to go to the NICU while I got cleaned up and moved to the Mother and Baby ward. If I had been slightly ignored before, this is where my presence almost went unnoticed! Throughout the next two days, I got almost zero attention (accept from the lactation consultant who was teaching me to start pumping). One night, I had to ask 4 times for ADVIL – yeesh! My room was tiny, and some of the rooms do not even have a shower – you have to walk down the hall! Luckily, my room had a shower, and later in the evening I was able to take the first shower in about 3 ½ weeks (I did not bathe after my first 2 weeks on bedrest). I shaved my hairy, hairy legs, and it took two disposable razors to get through the jungle (and I’m not even very hairy). Before the shower, and the visit with the lactation consultant, I was finally able to get to the NICU to see my son. I had only seen him for about 2 minutes after he was born, and I was so anxious to see what the NICU was like, meet the doctors and nurses, and of course, see my darling baby boy. Here I am seeing him for the 2^nd time – this time I got to touch him and stay with him for a while. Yes, that is plastic wrap – they put that over the warming beds to keep the heat in. These babies cannot regulate their temperatures, but they are too tiny and have too many medical needs to go into an isolette yet.

In the next couple of days, we decided on a name (Isaac Levi), I started pumping in earnest, and our families went home for a while. I was discharged from the hospital (basically feeling like I had never been pregnant), and we moved into the UAMS Family Home. Isaac required surgery, and was transferred to Arkansas Children’s Hospital, where we had to start figuring everything out again.

The next 98 days would continue to hold the same fear, awe, love, and exhaustion. Isaac stayed in the hospital for 99 days – he came home just 2 days before his original due date. He spent 7 days at UAMS, 7 weeks at Children’s Hospital just down the road in Little Rock, and a final six weeks at Washington Regional in Fayetteville. He received the best care anyone could ever hope for their child. Now, he is a rambunctious and completely “normal” three year old little boy. He’s amazing, and I thank God, the Universe, and modern science and medicine for him every day – even when he won’t take a nap!