Earlier this week my sister-in-law brought home her son, Alex born at 32 weeks. Two babies were born into our family this year and both of them were preemies delivered eight weeks before their due date. Crazy right? I’m thinking these babies must have FOMO like their Mama’s.

Watching them in the NICU hold their 4lb baby boy was all to familiar to me. We spent the first 31 days of Charlie’s life in the hospital. It brought back many tender emotions. It was just a few months ago that we were staring into Charlie’s isolette praying she’d come home with us.

I believe most women at some point in their pregnancy think [please let this baby come early.] With the combination of swelling, backaches, feeling like you can’t breathe, sleeplessness, and just overall can I have my body back and not be the size of a whale, it’s no wonder why we think this. Pregnancy is not for the faint of heart. That is for certain. However, when women think this, they don’t think two months early. They think like two weeks early.

When our daughter was born at 32 weeks I didn’t know that I would learn a new language. NICU, NG tube, gavage, MLs and isolette would be part of my daily dialogue. If you don’t know what any of those words or abbreviations mean consider yourself lucky. This language is only learned by those working in the hospital or by anxious parents of preemies.

Having a preemie has taught me more that just medical jargon. Below are the lessons I learned from our 31 days in the NICU.

Life doesn’t follow your plan.

I started to really understand this during our days of trying to conceive. Everybody has a vision chiseled out of when big life milestones are going to take place. Here are a few of mine.

Get married by 28.
Have children by 30.
Retire by age 62 or earlier. Way, way earlier.

Sometimes you have a setback. We couldn’t get pregnant without medical help. We lost a twin. We thought Charlie might be born with a heart defect. Setbacks was the name of the game these past twelve months. So when Charlie came early it was all the more blindingly apparent that life is totally unpredictable.

Plan, what plan?

I watched my maternity leave dwindle down at the hospital. Those precious hours I should have been nursing and rocking my sweet girl to sleep at home were instead spent sitting in a hospital chair, watching her grow through her isolette. Yet as I watched her get stronger everyday I came to appreciate some things take time and are worth the wait.

Moral of the story, be flexible because life almost always doesn’t work out the way you plan.

Wait patiently or wait angrily. The choice is yours!

Eight days before Charlotte was released from baby jail / the NICU, Matthew and I were sure she was going to come home. A nurse had got us all excited that her release was just hours away. Our escape hinged on her successfully finishing her bottles for a 48 hour period. Which to our delight she had accomplished. This sounds simple, right? Not for a preemie. When you’re technically supposed to still reside in the womb, fed via the umbilical cord, suck – swallow – breathe is a really big deal. Let’s be honest, when I’m sucking down really good pizza even I have trouble with this.

After two good days of taking all her food from the bottle versus the NG tube, she was exhausted and sleepiness ensued. I was mad! I was sad! I was sick of this. I wanted my daughter under my roof. You’d think after waiting so long to get pregnant I could handle a few extra days waiting for her to come home. After all I had a daughter.

Oh yeah I have a daughter! How awesome!

And with that perspective we decided to make the most of our time.

We got projects done around the house. We slept (a lot). We went on dates. We cruised Woodward and got ice cream after leaving the hospital.

Within days we had our girl home.

You won’t be able to look at Kangaroo’s the same.

Kangaroo care was my favorite time during those weeks waiting for Charlie to come home.

Relationships will change.

When you’re in a pinch I’ve found the people who truly love you will have your back. Tough times are the gardening of friendships: the so-so friendships will be weeded out. People will surprise you for good and bad. Matthew and I just kept reminding each other how could anyone who hasn’t walked this road know how to respond. It’s always a choice to choose to be or not be offended.

Life goes on without you.

Target didn’t miss me. Outback didn’t close their doors. Hilary and Donald are still campaigning. Life kept going, business as usual. An obvious but humbling revelation.

God is ALWAYS good and He loves us FIERCELY.

For the first few weeks of Charlotte’s life I didn’t get to hold her a lot. I couldn’t breastfeed her as much as I wanted to. She didn’t live at home with us. I had to drive 30 minutes, one way to visit her but all of these inconveniences meant one thing – I had a daughter! Praise the Lord. Hallelujah!!! I hoped and prayed for this child and God answered.

If I ever doubted God before, I can’t anymore. The love that I feel for this child is not of me. Not of this world. My Mom always used to tell me that she couldn’t describe how much she loved me and my brother but I would understand once I had my own children.

Becoming a Mom gave me a miniscule glimpse into how much God loves us, his kiddos. Infinitely. Forever. Unconditionally. Patiently. Joyfully. Gloriously.

It is so good to be a child of God and it is a blessing from heaven to be Charlie’s Mom.

When expecting visitors one must prepare. This usually entails cleaning. This may include vacuuming the floor, laundering the sheets, and making the room your guest will be residing in tidy so they are comfortable for the duration of the visit.

When you get an unexpected guest, however, you cannot prepare. One must [ wing it.]

When this unexpected guest is your premature daughter born at 32 weeks there is no time to make adequate preparations.

I went reluctantly to the hospital on the eve of Memorial Day. That Sunday wasn’t much different from any other Sunday. We went to church. We hung-out with family. The usual. Except for the finding out I was in labor it was a really peaceful day.

When the OB resident finished my pelvic exam I should have know something was amiss.

Just one week prior on the previous Saturday, Matthew and I had the fun experience of spending the night in Ann Arbor’s, Von Voigtlander Women’s Hospital. I was having cramping that was really intense. So that night (why do these things always happen at night?????) I called my OB and they suggested I head to the hospital to get some tests done. Better safe than sorry, we thought.

Four painful pelvic exams and eight hours later we drug our exhausted butts home – none the wiser as to why I had experienced the cramping. They concluded I was having minor contractions but couldn’t find anything concerning. We were told to call back if anything changed or progressed.

Little did we know it was all about to change!

Monday was business as usual. Expect there was more pain. Only now it had migrated to my back. I grabbed some essential oil, popped a few Tylenol, added some pillows and carried on. The previous 7 months of my pregnancy had been far from comfortable and pleasant so I chalked it up to more bad pregnancy luck and tried my best to manage the aches. By Thursday though, I was OVER it!!! The pain was almost constant at that point. Little gaps of time here and there gave way to minimal relief but I really couldn’t deal any longer. I decided this must have been the “change or progress” the Doc had mentioned that past Sunday so I rang the triage nurse in Ann Arbor.

“If your water hasn’t broke and you’re not bleeding I recommend taking some Tylenol and a warm bath and call back if anything changes.”

Excellent advice Ma’am. I’ll just continue to lay over here dying. Should we mail you the funeral bill when the Tylenol and bath don’t work?

I never said I wasn’t dramatic.

Friday we had a wedding out of town. We planned to crash at my Mom’s in Lansing. Upon arriving to her house, this big preggo made a beeline to the bathroom.

WARNING – TMI ALERT!!!!

I called her into the bathroom after wiping with an alarming urgency in my words.

“Mom, what is this?”

She looked at the toilet paper and her eyes grew wide.

“That right there is your mucus plug. I think you’re in labor.”

“No way! I can’t be! Don’t say that!” I adamantly piped back.

After all we had been through up until this point of the pregnancy I refused to let the thought of that possibility enter my mind.

With all the determination and strength I could muster, Matthew and I changed into our wedding gear and headed to the church. Nothing was going to slow me down! Not even labor.

The next day on Saturday I definitely slowed down though. The pain was unbearable. I thought the pain was bad on Thursday. WOW!!! Did it just get like 1000 times more intense.

I laid on the couch hoping Google could offer up an answer and maybe even a solution? One of the sites said it could be the baby laying on my spine and described some stretches I could try to nudge the baby to move. I was on the floor in a split second putting the suggested moves in to practice as if I was being judged on my form and technique. Another website said to sleep with a rolled up towel under your back and I did. To my shock and delight Sunday I awoke with little to no pain.

Hallelujah, Praise God! And that, I did at church that morning.

After church we met the family for the Memorial Day parade in St. Clair Shores. I felt pretty darn good considering the excruciating pain I had endured the day before. Both my Mother-in-law and Sister-in-law are nurses so I told them what had been going on to get some more medical opinions.

“You need to call the doctor immediately.” They both urged. “Matthew make her call the doctor as soon as you get home.” Pressed my Mother-in-law.

That he did but I refused. You see after four pelvic exams the week before – I decided the next time someone would reach that far up my lady parts was going to result in a baby coming out. My husband, always being the voice of reason suggested if I made the call and my OB instructed us to go to the ER we’d be home by 10pm but if we waited and things [changed or progressed] we would likely spend another sleepless night in the hospital.

I made the call. We went in.

So as I said the OB resident finishes my pelvic exam and it’s quick with no pain so I should have know something was amiss.

“Your baby is breached. I feel baby parts and you’re dilated.”

With this news I began to cry.

Standard.

We seriously couldn’t catch a break with this pregnancy. First we loose a twin at 23 weeks. Then the news that the Cardiologist suspects our surviving daughter has a heart condition and may need surgery upon delivery. Now we are going to deliver two months before our baby girl is done cooking.

I mean you talk about running the full gamut during a pregnancy. Thankfully both my husband and I are, [look at the bright side of things people] and knew the long awaited reveal was in the very near future. We would soon meet our daughter.

Much of what happened next was fast and furious. I was given an IV and started on magnesium sulfate to slow contractions and help baby girl’s brain develop. A Betamethasone, steroid shot was ordered and injected into my hip to mature her lungs. I would be given the next shot on Monday and told that 24 hours after the second shot was administered all bets were off – we could deliver.

Just about 50 hours after I was admitted to the hospital we delivered our two girls on Tuesday night, May 31st.

It was a whirlwind. It was emotional. It was the best day of our lives.

Below we are just hours away from delivery.