Mommy of a Micro-Preemie

Now, in an effort to hook some readers introduce myself, I will unashamedly share the most intense and sensational story of my twenties (so far!):  The extremely premature birth of my daughter, Sophie.

     

     At 25, I finally graduated from community college and transferred myself to a real college.  A University...a big one, too.  So proud of myself for being "grown-up" and "responsible," really "getting things done."  On my 3rd day of school, I received a different kind of label:  Pregnant.  I really am sorry, Soph, but I was pretty ticked.  This was not part of the plan.  Of course, the frustration quickly turned to excitement.  Pregnancy came pretty easy--built in exercise walking around school, an excuse to stop at McDonald's for a vanilla shake & fries whenever our little hearts desired, and the fun of feeling her tiny little limbs poking around in my growing belly.

     In June I went on a two-week road trip.  Pretty uneventful, a good time with family in Texas.  However, when I got home I was 23 weeks pregnant and something was...wrong.  Very wrong.  After an ultrasound detected that my water had sneakily broken without telling me, I escorted myself to the local hospital with the best (really!) NICU just next door at Children's.  I was instructed to lay low, and hang out in bed for 4 1/2 months until I reached full-term.  

     A short two hours after being admitted to the long-term labor/delivery ward, a mass of people entered the room and someone announced, "We need to do a C-section right now."  And so, despite the look of horror/confusion/terror/"is this a joke?" on my face, I was ushered into the OR and little Sophie was quickly removed from her dried-out home.  

The Basics:

1.  13 ounces.  Yes, ounces.  That is what she weighed when she was born at 23 weeks and 4 days.

2.  If you're familiar with the Apgar Scale, let's just say that Sophie failed miserably.  Like, she really wasn't expected to live.

3.  The NICU doctors' guesses:  Sophie had a 10% chance of surviving, and if she did live, she would be extremely handicapped--both physically and mentally.

4.  In October, I brought my five-month old baby home with me for the first time.  She has been in near-perfect health ever since.  Really.  No delays, no illnesses, nothing more extreme than a cold.  
5.  She is a miracle.

Then,

And now.