We will always celebrate Virginia's birthday and homecoming day but quietly I still celebrate today, hopeday. October 13th was day I received steroids and was transferred to maternal special care for more monitoring and eventual NICU intervention. I had spent a terrifying and exhausting 2 weeks on the gynecology floor of the brand new cancer hospital (that was awkward to explain to people!) where we waited to reach the day that we would use "all medical measures" to save our child. You see like most things in childbirth our situation was different. It was complicated. The baby was footlong breach, necessitating a c-section (classical if born before 29ish weeks). We believed that my official due date was a few days too soon. We were traveling through those critical and very grey (emotionally and theoretically) days of viability. Intervention was a tough topic.
It was 2 weeks of feeling like a ticking time bomb. I tried to ignore any symptoms willfully wishing them away. I spent my positive energy researching my condition and reading up on everything prematurity. I watched a lot of HGTV. I waited and wished for the days to pass quickly to my first goal .. Oct 13.
At the time October 13th was a day to be celebrated. My nurses were all smiles as they packed my things into bags for my trip from north pavillion 14 (cancer hospital) to the west pavilion 10 (maternal special care). I emailed and texted friends and family with news that we had made it to this first goal. I celebrated by ordering pancakes and bacon for dinner.
HopeDay changed my perspective. Suddenly the impending birth of a baby born months too early was an answered prayer.
We spent the afternoon celebrating at a birthday party for a set of adorable twins that we met in the NICU. All four of these babies were born within a week and a half of each other and combined weighed less than 8 pounds.