By Erin, mama to Isaac and adopting

Writing this blog has been harder than I ever thought it would be. With all of the adoption prep work behind us, the wait for a baby is actually quite boring. We might be getting closer to a match, but there is nothing to tell right now. We have been officially “waiting” for almost exactly five months – not that long to wait if you consider that a full-term pregnancy takes nine months. Of course, as I have said before, that does not count all the time that went into getting to the official wait – about two years of soul searching and six months of paperwork and prep work!

So my goal has been to get the house and our family ready for a new baby, whenever he or she might join us. Again, harder than I thought it would be. It’s hard to be motivated when you have no reason to believe it could happen anytime soon. The one thing we are making progress on, is Isaac’s understanding that a baby will be joining our family sometime soon. Most of the time, when asked if we are going to have a baby, he responds with a positive yes, and a small amount of excitement. Sometimes he says no, and gets upset at the mere mention of it. Lately, though, we can get him to talk about the baby with a bit more interest – the baby will cry; the baby will drink from a bottle; the baby will sleep a lot (we hope); you will be a big brother; we will be the baby’s Mama and Daddy too . . . Last night, we found a baby doll that I got for him about a year ago – he’s never shown any interest in it. We played with the baby for a minute, and handled it carefully, and then he threw it on the bed, jumped on its head as he started jumping on the bed (unintentionally, I hope), and ignored my attempts to have him gently put the baby out of the way. Oh well, got to take your successes were they come, right?

There are things happening in our life, and I will have more to write soon – stay tuned in!

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!

By Erin, adopting mama blogger

Three years ago today (September 19), I was taken by helicopter to UAMS in Little Rock. I was 25 weeks pregnant – 15 ½ weeks early. I had been on complete bedrest for an incompetent cervix for the previous forty days. I woke up that morning after a night of cramping and contractions (this was common by this point). I had called the on-call doctor in the middle of the night, and he told me just to make it until morning if I could. So, I upped my level of Terbutaline (anti- contraction medication), tried to relax, and made it through the night. That morning, at 7, my husband started his first day at a new job. I wearily told him goodbye, and prayed that I would not have to go the hospital.

I called my OB nurse, and as I waited for her to call me back, I went to the bathroom. I had started bleeding. I got back in bed and yelled for my sister (who was visiting from Denver to keep me company) to wake up. As I directed her to call Michael and have him come home (30 minutes into his first day of work), get my purse, some clothes for me, and few things for the hospital, my nurse called back. I told her I was bleeding and on my way to the hospital. Michael got home, I put on some clothes, and hobbled to the car, where I tried to lay down in the backseat. I was admitted to the hospital, it was determined that my water had broken, and a call was made to Little Rock. My amazing doctor talked to the neonatologist, and they decided to get me to UAMS as soon as possible because this baby was on the way. The nurses thought I might be able to make it on bedrest at the hospital in Little Rock for a while longer (wishful thinking and positive vibes, I now believe), but my doctor is a realist and he tells is straight – he believed the baby would be born in the next 48 hours.

My sister cancelled her flight back to Denver that was booked for later that day, and waited with me and Michael while my helicopter ride came through. I shakily called a few people (including my parents who came immediately to the hospital), and started making lists for things to pack. I needed things to get me through a hospital stay and/or the birth. When you are being transported by air or by ambulance to another city, it is recommended that your family does not start out before you leave (they can’t ride in the helicopter – there is no room), in case you give birth before you have a chance to leave. So, Michael and my sister stayed with me until Angel Flight came to get me, and walked me, teary eyed, terrified, and in shock the whole way to the helicopter pad. After I finally took off, they raced home to do some quick packing and hit the road.

I will never forget those last few minutes in the hospital room in Fayetteville, or the long and winding walk to the landing pad. I get terribly motion sick, and was very anxious (duh), so they gave me a shot of Demerol and some anti-nausea medicine. The Demerol kicked in, and everything went hazy. I remember the Angel Flight techs getting me all hooked up to IV’s, another catheter, and all kinds of monitors. I remember answering a million questions. I remember making sure they had Michael’s phone number, and asking them about a dozen times because I was so scared the baby would be born without him. Michael had just gotten a new cell phone number, and I could not remember it, so we wrote it on my hand with a sharpie to help me relax about not being able to reach him! I remember the woozy, winding trip through the hospital hallway. Later, I asked Michael if the trip to the landing pad was really as long and winding as I remember in my Demerol haze, and he told me it really WAS long and twisty through tons of doors, and down an elevator! It took them forever to get me in the helicopter – and I was SO uncomfortable! I was literally squashed between the two technicians in the helicopter and had no room to move at all.

They hooked me up with head phones, and the hazy Demerol started wearing off – I wanted another shot to get me through, but did not want to ask. I hugged and kissed my sister and Michael, and watched them as they stood back, the wind from the helicopter blowing all around them, for what seemed like forever before we finally took off. I wanted to turn over, but it seemed like too much effort. They kept checking in on me, just as I would fall asleep, and the forty minute trip took FOREVER. The Angel Flight people were SO amazing, and we are just so lucky to have them in our state to provide such an important service!

I had arrived at Washington Regional around 8:30 a.m., and finally got to UAMS sometime after 3:00 p.m. As I was wheeled through the halls of UAMS, frightened and alone, I heard one of the best sounds I will ever know – my mother-in-law calling my name! Yes, my mother-in-law got our phone call around 9:30 in the morning and jumped on a direct flight from Love Field in Dallas straight to Little Rock. Since it took several hours to get me ready and to wait for Angel Flight in Fayetteville, my mother-in-law managed to pack a suitcase (complete with a few gifts for me), book a flight, arrive in Little Rock, check into a hotel, and catch a shuttle to the hospital – amazing, no? I have never been so relieved to see anyone in my entire life. Although my mother-in-law would not be my first choice for support, she is wonderful in a crisis situation, and handled everything perfectly!

The rest of this day is really a blur – lots of talking to doctors about the outcomes of such an early birth, meeting tons of doctors, nurses and interns and residents, lots of paperwork, an ultrasound, blood work, etc. I remember that the residents were younger than me, and it really scared me! Michael and Mariah finally arrived – so did my parents. UAMS did a wonderful job of taking care of Isaac – they saved his life, kept him alive, and helped him get through the early days of his life with as few problems as possible. The NICU is amazing. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same thing for my personal experience. I was not treated badly, just not TREATED much at all. It was very easy to forget about me – they have ton of patients, they are a teaching hospital, I had no history there, I was not really having contractions that could be measured (turns out, I had been having serious contractions for the previous almost-five weeks –I was just too early in my pregnancy for them to register well on the monitors – this happens very often with early births). They monitored me closely, decided I was “not in labor”, and started ignoring me. I had asked for an Ambien to help me sleep, and that, the pain, and the soul crushing anxiety and fear make the rest of the long night almost incomprehensible to me. What I do remember is that they told me I could sit up (I had not been sitting up in bed for the last four weeks at home), they left and did not come back, even when I told them I was having discomfort. I could never figure out who my nurses or doctors were – and there were so many (residents, interns, students – all from OB or Neonatology – it was crazy). I also remember the most painful internal examination I have ever had in my life (and I went through 5 rounds of IUI’s, IVF and a cervical cerclage to get to this point), by what seemed like a 12 year old medical student.

Michael got sick, due to anxiety and stress, sometime in the middle of the night, and was in the bathroom for what seemed like hours. Around 5:00 or 5:30 in the morning, they determined that my cerclage (the stitch in my cervix that was helping to hold it shut) was starting to pull apart. I had been dilated to 3 ½ since the middle of August, and that little stitch had really done its job. (Side note – cervical cercalge is controversial – some doctors believe that it does not really help that much, but they do it b/c there is not much else to do for an incompetent cervix. Also, some doctors don’t hold that much favor in bedrest – there is little statistical evidence that shows it works. Despite these beliefs, I KNOW they work for some people – they worked for me. I was on bedrest for almost 5 weeks. Every time, for the whole 5 weeks on bedrest, that I got out of bed to go to the bathroom, it felt like the baby was going to fall out – literally. I was terrified to sit on the toilet. I was almost 100% effaced and almost 4 centimeters dilated the whole time I was on bedrest, and I know – in my heart and in my head – that my cerclage and bedrest, along with the steroids that I received a couple of weeks earlier, are the only things that kept us from losing our child.) I was dilating, and the stitch had to come out so it would not rip my cervix. My doctor took out the stitch, and left to get the team of doctors ready for the birth. At this point, we knew the baby would be coming soon (we did not know HOW soon), so we called my sister. My mom and dad, sister, and my mother-in-law, were all staying at a hotel with a hospital shuttle. I did not want my dad or my mother –in-law to be there. I just wanted my sister and my mother. My sister decided just to come herself and tell everyone that she came to the hospital because she could not sleep. A few minutes after her call, I REALLY went into active labor. It was not long – probably only 30 minutes, but it was intense. I went from 3 ½ to 9 ½ in about 25 minutes. At some point, my sister arrived, just as I was yelling to Michael that “he’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming – get somebody”. The baby was coming and no one was there. My sister ran out into the hall, yelled that I needed help, and stepped out of the way. I don’t really remember anything else, but I am told that a group of about 20 people barged into our room. It was shift change, so we had double of EVERYONE – OB/GYN on call, OB/GYN resident, interns, neonatologist, OB nurses, neonatology nurses, etc. The baby, literally, fell out of me – they were hurrying around, trying to get everything ready, and I was trying to keep him in (there was no pushing). The doctor had her hand on me, turned around for one second to get an instrument, and the baby slipped out. He literally slipped onto the bed for a second before they scooped him up, and went speed walking down the hall to get him intubated (breathing tube so he could breathe). I do not remember that part at all. It is all a blur …

Remember, this whole story has a happy ending – my 3-year-old son, Isaac! I have never written all of this down before, and it’s harder for me than I thought it would be. I am going to have to take a break, and finish this next week. In the meantime, I will be celebrating Isaac’s third birthday with a few close friends and grandparents – we will have some pizza and cake. Isaac changes his mind on his cake every day. So, we might have “Thomas cake” or we might have “Dora, Diego, Boots and Baby Jaguar Cake” – who knows what he will come up with. I do know that I am so thankful to have such an amazing three year old in my life – he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am also very thankful that I never have to be pregnant again – despite the expense, the work, and the waiting, we are so blessed to have the option to adopt a child. We are still waiting for you, Baby Shlomo – we are ready!

By Erin, adopting mama blogger

Oh, yes, Isaac is about to turn THREE. With that, it seems, come phases that are outdoing anything the terrible twos could even consider! He is willfully disobedient. He ignores every comment, question or command. He throws fits about everything under the sun. He does not eat – not even good-old standards like Life Cereal! He does not want to get dressed, change his diaper or sit on the potty. I think he FORGOT how to sleep. Seriously – the child has not slept much more than eight hours TOTAL in a day in the last three weeks. He went from taking anywhere from an hour and fifteen minute to three hour nap everyday (with the random no-nap day thrown in every once in a while) and sleeping about eleven hours every night, to taking ZERO naps (except for his beloved daycare provider, Mrs. Carmen, who has the magic touch it seems) and taking upwards of two-three hours to fall asleep at night! WHAT IS GOING ON? Everything is DRAMA, and sometimes I swear he has turned into a 13-year-old girl, what with the door slamming, and throwing himself on the floor, and admonishments that we “CANNOT COME INTO HIS ROOM!” and “LEAVE ME ALONE, I AM BUSY”!

He is still a wonderful, cute, loving, smart little creature, but the SLEEPING – oh my god! This is the only time I think I am glad to not have our baby yet. I don’t know how I would function. I have never been good on little sleep. I am still getting some sleep at night, it’s just the constant anxiety about sleep that is getting me down.

We have tried everything, and been consistent with NOTHING for getting him back to a good sleep routine. I am a firm believer in an early bedtime and a good nap every day. So, this week we have instituted a plan that we intend to stick by, but oh-my-god, it’s so hard! We put him in his room, door closed and baby gate up, for nap time and bedtime. Almost all toys and books are put away and locked up in the closet. He does not have to sleep, but he cannot turn on the light, and he cannot come out of the bedroom. So far, he has not slept for any nap I have tried to give him in three weeks – he plays or fusses for the full hour and a half! He’s very good at playing by himself, so the he plays, tears apart his room, and alternately cries out for me for a good long time. At night, it’s the same thing. Normal bedtime routine – brush teeth, three books, three songs, hugs and kisses from the whole family including the dog, go to room, more hugs and kisses, and in bed. Last night we put him in bed at 8 p.m., and he fell asleep on the floor beside the door at 11 p.m. At 2:30, Michael went into his room and put him in bed and laid on the floor next to his bed until he fell back to sleep. Great. Neither of us slept well all night long.

It’s hard to have a relaxing evening when your three year old is standing at his door, yelling at you through the baby gate! We have a fairly small house – ranch with three bedrooms and bathrooms down the hall and across from each other. When we were ready to go to bed, or had to go to the bathroom during the evening, we had to cross by his open door and ignore him. No fun!

Isaac does not even TURN three until the 20th of this month, and it’s looking like three will be a doozy of a year for us! What are your sleep sagas right now?