We were expecting our second child.
With a flutter in my chest I walked into the living room and handed Nathan the three positive tests. He looked at them for what felt like an eternity before finally looking at me.
"How is this possible?" he asked. "Well..." I started to respond before I was quickly interrupted. "No. I mean, HOW is this possible?"
It turns out that the timing for this pregnancy couldn't have been worse. My sister was getting married on April 9 and had asked me to be her Matron of Honor. My due date? April 3. I was thrilled to be able to stand beside her on such a special day for her and our family. Now I was terrified that those longtime dreams we shared about her wedding wouldn't be able to come to fruition because I would have just given birth. I was scared she was going to think I was taking away from her wedding day.
I called Sarah later that day and when she answered the phone, I burst into tears as I told her I was pregnant and due the week of her wedding. She was beyond supportive and laughed as I admitted my fears. Instantly, she started talking about me carrying a baby down the aisle instead of a bouquet.
The first trimester of my second pregnancy was a bit more intense than it was with my first. The fatigue of baking a human was exacerbated by the exhaustion that comes with chasing around a toddler, and when I wasn't passed out in my 17th nap of the day I was hugging a toilet. Fortunately, my OB prescribed me Diclegis which turned out to be the equivalent of a miracle and my morning sickness only reared its ugly head on the few mornings I had forgotten my medicine the night before.
We saw the new little bean in our first ultrasound in August and started slowly sharing our news with our immediate family. At our twelve week Nuchal Translucency ultrasound doctors discovered that I had low Papp-A hormone, which can sometimes lead to babies born with low birth weight that's caused by Intrauterine Growth Restriction and also raises the chances of having a baby born with Down Syndrome. Because of this, my regular OB referred me to a Maternal Fetal Medicine doctor who could monitor the growth of a baby a bit more closely. 
We announced to the world in September using pumpkins grown on Nathan's family's farm.
In November we had our much-anticipated anatomy scan. During the scan, the ultrasound tech was talkative and friendly. Nathan and I had previously decided not to find out the gender of the baby until a friend threw us a gender reveal party, so we joked about having to turn our heads away when she was checking out the goods. When the doctor came in to talk with us about the scan, she told us that baby had a larger-than-average head circumference and a shorter-than-average femur. Together, these two features were a marker for Down Syndrome. The Dr. seemed confidant that the baby would not have Down Syndrome, because, as she explained it, the absence of other markers - such as lack of nasal bone development and heart malformations - meant more than the presence of one.
Then she went on to tell us that our baby had a Choroid Plexus cyst in its brain. Turns out, this was a soft marker for Trisomy 18. Again, the doctor reassured us that the likelihood of having a baby with Trisomy 18 was rare, as more often than not the cysts resolve themselves. Still, she scheduled a followup ultrasound for six weeks later to check on it and ordered a blood-test to screen for chromosomal abnormalities. I remember leaving the appointment feeling so unsettled. My pregnancy with Finn was pretty textbook, and this seemed anything but. Nathan kept reminding me that our odds of having a healthy baby were extraordinarily in our favor, but I knew I wouldn't be able to relax until I knew for sure.
A couple of days before our Gender Reveal Party, I got a phone call while I was at work. I quickly found someone to cover my classroom and stepped outside to take the call. Then, I was told that the blood-work came back and the baby was chromosomaly normal. After I hung up the phone I took a deep breath and allowed myself to cry for a split second. It was just such a relief to hear the words chromosomaly normal. Not that we wouldn't have loved a baby who was chromosomaly abnormal... but knowing that wasn't going to be our journey with this baby was comforting.
Later in November, our friend Elizabeth threw us a gender reveal party. It was full of adorable decor, delicious pink- and blue-themed food and drinks, and all of our close family and friends. After firing a BB gun at black balloons filled with blue paint, we learned our newest little love was going to be a(nother) boy. Officially a #boymom (and I'm still not even sure I fully understand what this entails).
In the beginning of December, we had our followup ultrasound to check on the cyst in the baby's brain. There, we received word that the cyst had resolved! Things were finally starting to settle down and I was able to relax and enjoy my pregnancy. Everything continued to progress as normal. Baby was growing normally, though he was a little larger than average. I was feeling good, we put Finn's big boy room together and moved him. Things were great! But then one day in mid-February, when I was 32 weeks along, I woke up and knew something was different.
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| 28 weeks pregnant with baby boy number 2 |
That Thursday morning, I woke up with Braxton Hicks contractions, which wasn't really out of the ordinary for me as I'd had them quite frequently. This time, however, they were causing my lower back to ache. I went to work hoping I was reading too much into it, but at my morning meeting when co-workers started asking me if I was alright, I realized it was probably better to be safe than sorry. I put a call in to my doctor, who conveniently was off that day, and the triage nurse told me to drink two liters of water and call back in an hour. Well, I did the best I could with the water but two liters is A LOT in such a short period of time. And it didn't do anything for the contractions. I called back and they decided it was probably better to see me. So I went in and saw the practice's Nurse Practicioner who measured my cervix and said that was closed. She decided to hook me up to the monitor for twenty minutes just to check things out. When she came back she looked at the tape and exclaimed, "Well you are having contractions!" She called in another doctor who looked at the tape and did another cervix check. Still closed. Because it was late in the evening and the office was closing, she decided to send me upstairs to Labor and Delivery to continue the monitoring.
There, I continued to have contractions every 3-7 minutes. Because they were Braxton Hicks contractions and not "real" labor, the on-call doctor was going to send me home. He explained that sometimes women just have frequent BH contractions and it's just the way it is. He prescribed me a medicine that would relax my uterus and temporarily stop the contractions, but because of the nature of the medicine I wouldn't be able to drive home. While Nathan and I were working out the logistics of getting both my car and his, home, the doctor decided to do one last cervix check. When he was done, he said, "I've changed my mind. I'm going to admit you. Your are now beginning to dilate so these contractions are progressing."
I was moved into a delivery room (which was much nicer than the triage room I was in) and given IV medication to stop the contractions. I was also given my first steroid shot to help the baby's lungs develop should he decide he was coming early. I received the second shot 24 hours later and was finally discharged on Sunday with orders to remain on modified bed-rest until further notice. I was also prescribed enough Nifedipine (which stops contractions) to get me to 36 weeks. At that point, if baby decided to come he would be developed enough that they wouldn't try to stop it.
When I had my follow up with my OB one week later, I had not progressed any further. I begged her to let me off of my bed-rest restriction and return to work and she reluctantly agreed, so long as I sat more than I stood. I took my Nifedipine religiously every four hours. I drank as much water as I could. And I kept that baby in as long as possible.
Of course, within a week of stopping Nifedipine our littlest love would be making his dramatic entrance.
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