by Abby Howard, Eric's mom
Our first baby Ezra John was born very premature at 28 weeks gestation, after a rather troubled pregnancy. He suffered from the effects of pre-eclampsia, a mal-functioning placenta, low amniotic fluid, and IUGR----he only weighed 13.5 ounces at birth. After his birth, he struggled to survive in NICU III for nine days. He passed away due to complications of extreme low birth-weight, prematurity, and problems with his blood.
Having gone through this experience with Ezra John, we were petrified of going through pregnancy again. However, we desperately wanted to have a baby. My arms felt so empty and literally ached to hold a baby. Although I felt somewhat jealous of other moms who had healthy babies, I actually loved to hold their babies and dream as if it was my own baby. We kept asking the doctors if we would ever be able to have another baby.
They did an autopsy on Ezra, and determined that there was nothing congenital that might repeat in a future pregnancy. The placenta itself was carefully studied, and they believed that the placenta was the main problem in Ezra's pregnancy. It was very small and had many blood clots and deformed blood vessels. Since the placenta is new with each pregnancy, the likelihood of this reoccurring was rather slim. That made us feel more positive about trying for another baby. However, we knew we needed time to heal emotionally, and my body needed time to heal physically. The doctors recommended that we wait a minimum of 6 months, even up to one year.
We finally conceived again approximately 9 months after Ezra’s birth. In one way, getting pregnant again in and of itself was healing----I felt like my body was finally doing what it was supposed to do. But then again, I was SO scared that something still might happen. I was very relieved that I did not experience even a single drop of bleeding or spotting, since bleeding had been a big part of what went wrong with Ezra’s pregnancy. But I was still on an emotional roller coaster for most of the pregnancy.
We went to see a team of OB’s who were high-risk specialists at a major hospital in our area. They followed my pregnancy closely, just because of my history. I had many ultrasounds to monitor the baby’s growth. I was also seen about twice as often as usual for regular prenatal check-ups----they wanted to be sure I was not developing pre-eclampsia again. It helped that I had frequent appointments, but I still got all worried in-between. Fortunately, there was a wonderful nurse who worked closely with the high risk OB team, and she was always willing to talk to me on the phone to help calm my fears.
The ultrasounds showed a normally growing baby with normal amniotic fluid levels. When they estimated the baby to weigh about 1.5 pounds at 25 weeks, I breathed a huge sigh of relief! I knew our baby was going to be fine----at three weeks earlier in the pregnancy, it was already twice Ezra's birth weight.
The ultrasounds also showed that we were having a little boy. We had really been wanting a girl, but more than that we wanted a healthy baby, so it really was okay. We named him Eric Truman.
The hardest parts of my pregnancy were the anniversary of Ezra’s birthday through his death date (I was then 16 weeks along). And the 28-week mark, which was the point when Ezra was born. But with lots of reassurance from the doctors that this pregnancy was progressing well, and lots of loving support from close friends and family, we made it through.
By the time I hit about 35 weeks, we knew that we had made it through the most critical stages. The doctor was no longer concerned about a preterm birth, so she instructed me to wait until I had contractions 5 minutes apart for one hour before calling in. We were finally in the home stretch, and I was going to just relax and enjoy the last few weeks of my pregnancy. I quit my part-time job, and planned to do some things at home to get ready for Christmas, since the baby was due only 10 days before Christmas.
The day after I quit work was the day of my baby shower which some of my friends from church planned for me. It was a wonderful party and I was enjoying it thoroughly. I noticed a few contractions, but actually I was used to having Braxton Hicks every afternoon like clockwork. Besides, these were nowhere near 5 minutes apart, so I was not in the least bit concerned. After the party, my hubby Truman and I went to get groceries, including what I needed to bake Christmas cookies.
But while we were driving to the store, I noticed my contractions were getting stronger and closer together. I told Truman we should hurry, but we’d be fine. However, in the store I found I needed to use my breathing exercises to get through the contractions. So we hustled through the checkout and into the car. Truman drove home at 80 miles an hour on the highway! I called the doctor the minute we got in the door, and got the doctor on call, since it was about 6 pm. My contractions were now about 2 minutes apart, so she told us to come in to the hospital. We grabbed my bags, which were already packed; I just hadn’t got them into the car yet. Truman drove 80 miles an hour again and we made it to the hospital in record time! He was terrified I was going to have the baby in the car, but I just wanted him to get me there in one piece, thank you very much! On arrival, Truman announced to the security people at the door that his wife was having a baby in the car! A paramedic helped me into a wheel chair and wheeled me up to the birthing center.
The doctor arrived shortly after I was gotten into a room. She checked me and informed me I was already 10 cm. dilated! But my water had not broken, and I had no urge to push. She broke my water and told me to push the baby down. About 2 hours of intense back-labor followed and the baby would not budge, in spite of trying various positions. On the verge of doing a C-section, the doctor decided to have me try one more position, the hands-and-knees one. What a difference that made, and I soon felt the baby drop down. About 20 more minutes of productive pushing and he was out. What a fantastic relief!
Truman got his wish to cut the cord, and I snuggled our beautiful baby on my tummy for a little bit. I laughed and cried at the same time! It was so wonderful to have a healthy screaming baby to hold! It had been hard work both emotionally and physically to get him here, but he was worth every bit of it. As I held him, my arms finally felt full, the empty ache was gone.
The nurse took Eric to be weighed and measured. He was 5 pounds even, and 18.5 inches long. His apgars were 7/8. Though he had arrived nearly 5 weeks early, he was---as my doctor put it--- “a keeper.” He never needed oxygen, though he did need to learn to suck. I pumped my milk until we were able to get him fully breastfeeding. We got to take him home from the hospital when he was 6 days old.
To read a more detailed account of Eric's birth, click the back button below to return to Eric's home page. Then open the page for Eric's Birth Story. WARNING: it is a quite graphic account.
