By this time last year, we had learned that it can indeed happen to you.
A year and 5 days ago, we were the typical family with the typical problems. I was nearly 6 months pregnant, Kaitlyn was doing great and a normal, happy, healthy, smart 2 1/2 year old who liked to kiss my tummy at night, and Dusty had a cold. Our biggest problems were that I liked to go to bed super early and we still had to empty out the computer room to get Matthew's room ready. The pregnancy was pretty normal with just a couple of minimal problems, but I was gaining weight like a champ and so was he!
Last night was a familiar feeling. Around the same time as June 3, 2007, I woke up in a puddle. This time there was no question about it, my water couldn't have possibly of ruptured, my bladder is easily controllable and I had a preschooler sleeping with me after 32 ounces of gaterade before dinner!
A year and 2 days ago, that all changed to drastically and what seemed so innocently. I'll never forget the sense of urgency I felt when I woke up in a puddle of fluid. I of course freaked that it could be something serious, but convinced myself that I was just over exaggerating and really going to the hospital was just for peace of mind.
Even while we waited in Labor and Delivery, we joked, kidded around and I tried to get a little bit of rest because I was exhausted and the "leaking" had stopped I thought. Then, in literally an instant our life wasn't normal anymore.
All of a sudden we were part of 2% of pregnancies who have membranes rupture before 37 weeks. Of that 2%, most ruptures occur after 34 weeks.
Our outlook was grim, our doctor was blunt, and our options seemed few. We were told over and over again that we were just hanging out until I developed an infection and delivered. It would more than likely happen within the week.
I felt so sick, the magnesium sulfate was terrible, I couldn't eat and I was being poked, prodded and checked every couple hours for a sign of infection.
What was never discussed was the probability of infection not occuring. I understand why, within 24 hours, 50% of pprom pregnancies end in birth, within a week, 75% end in birth and within 12 days, 90% of those ruptured pregnancies end in birth. The thought that we held on for 9 weeks and 2 days is astounding, amazing, a true miracle.
It's amazing how much has changed in the year. Rather than cancelling plans for the summer, we're making as many as possible. Rather than planning how to juggle the needs and demands of a 10 month old (tomorrow) and a 3 1/2 year old we are instead facing the road of recovery for a grieving 3 1/2 year old and visiting the cemetery to visit a 10 month old.
Everything that happened a year ago still feels so surreal. It feels like a distant dream, a terrible dream. There are so many things that I am grateful for.
I am incredibly grateful that we made it 9 weeks and 2 days in the hospital. Even if it meant that I had to be stuck in a terrible bed around the clock watching the world go by around me while watching 4 channels on TV. Those 9 weeks and 2 days were 9 weeks and 2 days longer that I had with Matthew than any doctor or nurse gave me. I am grateful that Matthew was born with few premature hurdles to jump and that we did have 10 wonderful and memorable weeks with him.
I learned so much in that time. I learned more about my body, what it's capable of and what feels normal. I can feel where my ovaries are, know what's a cyst, what's normal and what's not. I learned what amazing family I have and what an amazing and capable, loving caring husband I have. Dusty spent EVERYNIGHT and the world's most uncomfortable bed, stretched his schedule in ways I don't think he could ever imagine and dropped everything to be there for me, Kaitlyn and Matthew.
A year ago, things were so perfect, it is amazing what an instant can do.