Happy Thanksgiving!

I always manage to scrounge up a few things that I’m thankful for every year, but this year, I have so many I don’t know where to start. I’m thankful that I’m alive. Between the low platelet count (the stuff in your blood that makes it clot), the sky high blood pressure, and the stress of the NICU, I’m happy to have made it here. I’m thankful that Little Miss Minion is here with us, and that she’s such a fighter. Taking on GBS, sepsis, meningitis, hydrocephalus, 4 brain surgeries, and starting every day out with a half hour of smiles and giggles makes me remember how lucky we are. I’m thankful for Mr Minion, who has been such a huge supporter for me and such a great advocate for Little Miss Minion. I’m thankful for our families, who have been there for the good and bad this year. I’m thankful for coworkers and friends, near and far, Internet and real life. I’m thankful for the NICU nurses who took care of LMM when we couldn’t do anything but watch through plexiglass, for the doctors who oversaw her care, and for the countless strangers who donated things to NICU families like us. We got hats, blankets, books, care packages. We got prayers for LMM from literally all over the world. I’m thankful for the technology that alerted us to the problem, to my medical team for taking it seriously, and for the medicines and machines that saved my life and LMM’s. 

I hope you enjoyed today with your family and that you have lots of things to be thankful for.

Lucky

This morning, I was really crabby. I’m stressed about how Little Miss Minion is doing (she’s totally fine, making great progress) just because she’s so small. I worry about how this will affect her in the future. Will she have hearing problems? Vision problems?  A learning disability or a physical disability?  I get angry walking to the NICU through the hospital lobby because I see so many still – pregnant women and I think “that should be me” and “LMM wouldn’t need to be in the NICU if I was still pregnant.” Those same women are often complaining about how miserable they are and how they wish they could just have the baby tomorrow. I would give anything to have kept her in a little while longer, but it wasn’t healthy or safe for either of us.

So instead of focusing on how I wish things would have gone or things should be, I’m going to try to focus on how incredibly lucky we are.

I’m lucky that my doctors are very good at their jobs. That they saw the preeclampsia brewing almost a month before she was born. That they made me do weekly testing to see how it was progressing. Preeclampsia has no cure other than delivery, so is important to monitor for changes.

I’m lucky my doctor put me on bedrest, even though it turned out to be 2 days. Those 2 days took stress off my kidneys and therefore off LMM.

I’m lucky that steroid shots exist, and that I was able to get some in April and a booster round before she was born.

I’m lucky that I picked such a good hospital to deliver in, even though I needed it 3 months early. The NICU is the best in the area and we weren’t separated after she born.

I’m lucky that she’s such a fighter. 1 pound 14 ounces of ferocious determination.

I’m lucky to have my husband, who helped me get through the emergency C Section and everything afterward. Who keeps the house running and keeps us running.

I’m lucky that so many people literally around the world were praying for her during her birth and after. I can’t think of any other reason why a baby born at 28 weeks exactly would be able to breathe on her own and not need a ventilator. It’s very rare for that to happen.

I’m lucky I got 2 days of magnesium exposure for her. It kept me from having strokes or seizures and it helped protect her brain from bleeding and cut her chances of getting cerebral palsy.

I’m lucky that I noticed the lack of movement on her fetal monitor. I’m lucky they sent a team to do an ultrasound on her. I’m lucky they conferred immediately with my high risk medical team. I’m lucky they decided to get her out when they did. Another day would probably have meant one or both of us wouldn’t be here.

I’m lucky.