December 2009

My son Max’s birth was almost four years in the making, three years to conceive him and then another nine months until his timer went off. Those three years were long, grueling, and exhausting. After twelve months of trying to get pregnant, I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome and told that I would not be able to conceive children without the help of a fertility specialist. I was devastated. My husband, Brandon, was my rock during this time. He comforted me after our many miscarriages and had faith that we would have a child of our own.

After our fourth miscarriage, we were out of town visiting family and I was put on birth control pills and told that we needed to “take a break” for three months. I did my best to enjoy myself, but the thoughts of babies that we didn’t have were never far from my mind. When we returned home, I had to do a routine blood test and received a frantic message from my fertility doctor’s nurse. I was pregnant again. I was not surprised. I had dreamed several nights in a row of receiving that message on my voice mail. I knew that this baby would be healthy and that I would carry him full term.

My pregnancy was perfect. I had the usual complaints, but loved every second of it. I didn’t, however, appreciate being overdue. As my due date approached, I became more and more anxious that my body wouldn’t do everything it was supposed to do and that I would not go into labor on my own. I was already so used to having to use medicine to make my body work properly that I had absolutely no faith in my self. When I was one week late, I did everything I could to convince my midwife to just induce me. She said that they couldn’t for another week because they had been slammed with births and literally had no room for me.

There were many a tears shed that night and the next day.

On April 4th, the first nice day of the year, I went into labor nine days late. I couldn’t believe it. With every contraction, I was so relieved that this baby was coming and that I went into labor all on my own. Brandon and I started crying when my midwife said it was time to push. After everything we had been through, we were about to meet our son. He held my leg as I pushed for about forty minutes. When he came out, they saw meconium in my amniotic fluid and rushed him over to a table to suction his mouth and nose out. I had wanted them to place him on my chest, but his health and safety took center stage.

We hugged and kissed and cried as we heard our little boy cry for the first time. Brandon went over to cut the cord as the midwife took care of everything on my business end. The look on my husbands face as Max was placed in his arms is something that I recall every day. It is one of my happiest memories. I have never seen that much love and joy on another persons face.

When it was finally my turn to hold him, I couldn’t hold back my emotions. At that moment, I was grateful for the trials we had to go through to get our son. I wouldn’t be the same person or mother with out them. I know that he came into our lives exactly when he was supposed to.

From Ashley Morrissey

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Note from Design Mom: for the duration of my pregnancy, I’ll be posting advice, memories and stories about pregnancy, childbirth, adoption and growing a family on Wednesdays. You can find them all by clicking here. I’d love to hear your story or memory or advice, feel free to submit it to gabrielle@designmom.com.

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I wrote this to my son Cooper on what would of been his first birthday, 11.27.2009. He was born with a congenital heart defect that required open heart surgery when he was 3 weeks old. He made it through surgery, but died the following morning. You can read more about Cooper, his journey and our story at my blog. I am happy to say that Cooper will have a little brother in February. A boy whose heart is perfectly normal.

My Dear Sweet Precious Cooper,

A year ago today you entered the world, stole our hearts and forever changed our lives. Oh, how i wish we were celebrating your first birthday and making new memories, instead of holding on to the memories of your short time with us.

The night before you were born, your dad and I were about to fall asleep and we told you that it would be perfectly fine with us if you wanted arrive early. I had this gut feeling that you would be born on Thanksgiving day and it would get us out of Thanksgiving dinner. You must have heard us talking and decided to indulge our wish, or maybe you somehow knew you would only be here a short while. Whatever the reason, your early arrival gave us a full 3 weeks with you and for that I am grateful.

I slept fairly well that night and woke up at 5:30 because I was uncomfortable and had to go to the bathroom. It was then that my water broke and I just smiled to myself. I woke up your dad to tell him I thought it was time and went downstairs to call the doctor. He said to make our way to the hospital. I wasn’t having contractions and wasn’t in any pain, so I knew we had some time. your dad made coffee and I headed upstairs to pack our bag. We had been talking about how we should pack the hospital bag, but just never got around to it. I grabbed a diet coke on the way out the door and we arrived at the hospital around 6:30.

And then we waited, and waited and waited. Since it was thanksgiving, the nurses worked shorter shifts, so we had three different ones by the time you were born. We watched a lot of football games and waited. Finally at 10 pm, after 16 hours of waiting your heart rate started to elevate and the doctor decided that it was best if he delivered you via c-section.

You were born at 10:51 pm on Thursday, November 27th, 2008. when the nurses showed you to me, I immediately noticed your blond hair and that your hairline was the same as mine, a family trait without a doubt. You reached out and touched my face, as if you knew what lie ahead and were telling me it would be ok. The nurses then took you, cleaned you up and you met your dad. I love how you held on to his finger for strength and courage. After they finished sewing me up they let me hold you while they wheeled us to recovery. I remember thinking, “I cant believe they are letting me hold my baby, I am so drugged, aren’t they afraid I will drop him?”

Once we got to the recovery room, the nurse was about to hand you to me when she noticed that you looked a little blue. So they took you away and started doing tests. It seemed like an eternity before they told us that you needed to go to the NICU at strong and that you would be transported by ambulance. It felt like someone had ripped my heart out, I just met you and they were taking you away. Little did I know how my heart would shatter in the coming weeks.

All I wanted to do was get out of the hospital and get to you. When we finally were able to see you, love you and hold you, I knew that my heart was no longer mine, it belonged to you and I would do whatever necessary to keep you safe.

Cooper, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss you, that my heart doesn’t ache to hold you, or wonder what you would be like on your first birthday. But I know this: by having you, knowing you and loving you, I am a better person and will be a better mother to your little brother. You changed me and for that I am grateful.

Happy Birthday Cooper Austin!

loving and missing you always. Mom

From Lucinda Snyder of Luc Ends.

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Note from Design Mom: for the duration of my pregnancy, I’ll be posting advice, memories and stories about pregnancy, childbirth, adoption and growing a family on Wednesdays. You can find them all by clicking here. I’d love to hear your story or memory or advice, feel free to submit it to gabrielle@designmom.com.

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