A Room with a View

The week between 24 and 25 weeks was the longest week of my life. I was sure that I had gotten that far only to go into labor. Landon continued to prove me wrong and sailed through that week. When we did another growth scan at the end of the week, we discovered he had a growth spurt and was now sufficiently big enough to qualify for medical intervention when he was born. We were so excited about this news, but it was also bittersweet as it meant I could no longer stay home but had to move into the hospital for the rest of my pregnancy.

Luckily, we scored the 'nicest' room on the floor, the only room with an entire wall of windows to let the light in. The view was that of the staff parking garage, but I would take what I could get. Hospital life was different. You were no longer on your own schedule but on the doctor's and nurses time. You got medication when they decided, took a shower with their ok, and got to eat only if they said so. I laughed and said this must be what rehab or jail is like. Thankfully, the nurses were so nice and so positive that I could make it further. Even the doctors began to admit they didn't expect me to make it so far after breaking my water. They still said the chances of him surviving were dismal, but every once in awhile one of them would admit they have seen other babies who did survive in our situation.

I joined a forum on a website that included women in my exact position who were holding on to their unborn babies with all their might. There were also women who successfully delivered babies months after their water broke. These were real babies and not some numbers from studies done 20 years ago. I was willing to cast the die with real babies over statistics and numbers. One of the women whose baby survived and thrived gave the advice to remember that where there is life, there is hope. We held onto this even on days where it could be almost overwhelming when thinking about what our outcome may be.

We fell into a new schedule that still involved some daytime TV, with doctor visits, vital signs, and fetal heart monitoring mixed it. Landon continued to demonstrate his personality by showing his dislike for the heart monitors. This involved strapping some probes to my stomach which Landon promptly kicked until they were no longer on top of him. He would even begin kicking when he heard the heart machine turn on, before the probe even went on me. The nurses thought I was being silly, but I knew my little man was showing his opinion. I began to have hope that we would make it another 9 weeks to 34 weeks when they would induce him.