Baby C is our last child.
We took permanent measures to ensure this.
My uterus will never support a growing life again.
My cycle will return (please not any time soon!) and it will be a reminder that I am fertile, but not growing a life.
And I’m happy about all of the above.
Yeah, me too.
The best way to put it – it’s bittersweet.
I’m content though.
I’m at peace with our decision.
And I 100% stand by our decision to keep our family as a family of 4.
But I’m also savoring every single moment with Baby C right now, knowing I will never hold another baby that FirefighterDad and I created together.
It’s a mix of emotions.
But it’s right for us.
Persepctive. It’s a crazy thing. It can instantly make you see clearly. It can make you change your mind, or reaffirm your decision.
And as I laid in my hospital bed at 23 weeks and 5 days and 2 cm dialated, I got all the perspective I needed.
My body doesn’t do pregnancy.
My baby was measuring 1lb 8oz….a weight the neonatalogist was ecstatic about.
It moved our odds a bit closer to 50%.
Odds that aren’t terrible.
People make bets on 50% odds.
50% odds are good odds.
Unless thoughs odds mean the difference between life and death.
Now 50% is a terrible percentage.
These were our odds with Baby C.
He could live, or he could die.
And we prepared for both outcomes.
We talked about an extended NICU stay with life sustaining measures.
And we talked about comfort care. Keeping our baby comfortable until he was called Home.
Two very different conversations, but when you have barely 50% odds, you have both conversations.
And in those moments I knew he would be our last baby.
Regardless of the outcome, he would be our last.
In those moments I tried to remove myself emotionally from the life I was carrying. I actually, at one point, convinced myself I didn’t love this child. I mean how could I? I never met him, saw him, or held him. I didn’t know him, so if the coin landed on death, I would be fine.
Then a split second later, I would cry.
Whole body shaking sobs.
Because I knew better than that. My heart was already so in love with the life I was carrying. And I knew if the odds weren’t in our favor, it would be the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.
So as nurses and doctors worked to stop my labor and keep Baby C cooking, I cried and I prayed.
And I knew I would do whatever it took to never get pregnant again.
Because when it comes to your child, no one wants 50% odds.
When it comes to your child’s viability, 50% odds are terrible.
Fortunately, our story has a happy ending.
With both of our boys.
With Brother I, I got 28 more days of pregnancy and delivered at 33 weeks and 5 days to a 5lb 8oz baby.
We weathered two NICU stays, but we have a healthy, happy, and vibrant 4 year old.
And with Baby C I got 12 more weeks of pregnancy and delivered at 35 weeks and 4 days to a 6lb 10oz baby.
We are weathering reflux, but we have a healthy, happy, and vibrant 2 month old.
Our story could have been different so easily.
So I’m content.
I’m at peace.
Perspective is a gift I will always be grateful for.
So every day I savor.
I savor the snuggles, baby wearing, newborn floppies, sweet baby milk breath, baths, nursing, smiles, coos, and even the ache I feel when I hear the distinct sound of my newborn cry.
I savor the soft newborn hair, the smooth baby skin against mine, the diaper changes, the spit up, and the sleepless nights.
I savor the vulnerable newborn period – the time I feel the most like a mother. Able to provide food, comfort, and love in the most raw and uninhibited way possible.
I savor the moments, good and bad, committing them to memory.
Beacuse our family is complete.
We are a family of 4.
A family of 4 with a happy ending.