This is the story of # 6 Brat, Miracle Boy, and how he came to survive.
I’m ancient – even when pregnant with # 5 Brat, I was ancient.
With # 6 Brat, the waters broke in week 19 of pregnancy. 18+3, to be exact. We were given no hope – in fact, we were told that the best thing would be to terminate life chemically, and give birth/abort vaginally. We were also told that it would be good if we decided whether we wanted a funeral or not.
Having just seen the little one’s heart beating on the screen, and having felt him move for almost two months already, I couldn’t. It was established that there was no infection, no discoloration of the amniotic fluid, and although there was almost no fluid left, and leaking didn’t stop, no palpable signs of stress with the baby.
I was “allowed” to go home, and was given an appointment the next day.
Thus started the longest 12 weeks of my life so far…
Since there was no hope, I wasn’t hospitalized, but came back every day for 2 weeks. After that, it was every 3-4 days, and then once a week.
It was made clear to me that if I developed any kind if infection that could be fatal to me, they had to intervene. I understood that, and carried on as normal (almost). They didn’t want to give me antibiotics as a precaution, they just kept monitoring my blood for signs of infections twice a week. I managed to manipulate one young intern into giving me a course of penicillin at one point – buying another 2 weeks…
No infections, and the fluid levels almost came up to within the normal range again, although I never stopped leaking. Mother Nature has her own way – amniotic fluid is a renewable resource… Together, Miracle Boy and I were producing enough of the stuff for him to survive and grow.
There was concern for his lungs, and also for his physical development. No fluid equals very little movement and exercise, and little space to grow in, so we had no idea what would come out of this, even though he looked quite normal on the daily/weekly scans.
Week 29+6, and I lost the remaining fluid. I was hospitalized, and since MB was kind enough to be in the breech position, I was scheduled for a C-section. Thank goodness for that! I had asked for one, but since a “normal” birth is considered better for development in preemies, they would have preferred that. I was just so happy to lay everything into their hands – after the 12 week ordeal, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength or the guts to trust my body with a “normal” birth…
On 30+1, he was lifted out, all 1640 grammes of him. He was rushed straight to the NICU, and they tried to intubate him to get him on a respirator, but he fought them, and was put on CPAP instead. Bless him…
We never saw him till 8 hours after he was born, and then only because I asked for my saved up dose of painkillers and sent hubby out for a wheelchair…
Seeing him for the first time was indescribable. All my defences went, and I cried like I’ve never cried before… He was OK, not too small, hooked up to all kinds of monitors, but he was alive, and all he needed was time and TLC.
He was born on August 23rd, 2006, and he was due on November 2nd.
On October 13th, after 7 weeks in NICU, we were allowed to take him home.
Miracle Boy had finally made it!