One year ago today....

One year ago, Boy Terror began to arrive. It took him until April 29th to actually come out, but he started the journey March 21. I was working at the library, and as I walked home I felt a cramp, and then a bit of fluid. The health nurses here said it looked like the amniotic sac had sprung a leak, and just to be safe I headed into town (an hour away) for a non-stress test. I seriously wasn't worried. Hubby and I left Girl Terror with a neighbor, and set out for an evening drive. At the hospital, my doctor seemed to think it was a bit more serious than I thought, and he said that since it was still 6 weeks early, I would have to go to Vancouver. We just don't have the specialists etc. here to deal with preemies. I still wasn't worried. So I'd have to go to Vancouver, if things kept going. I was sure everything was fine. My biggest concern was that I had been doing laundry, and so I was wearing my "laundry" clothes - jammie shirt and sweatpants. Not an outfit I like to be seen in. I casually asked the doctor when he would be deciding if I had to go. He said "I've already said, you're going. Yes, really." Hmmm. Starting to feel a bit more stressed. I asked him when he thought I'd be leaving, since I would need to get a babysitter, blah blah blah. He looked at me like I was nuts, and said "You'll be leaving tonight. Before midnight. As soon as the Medivac team gets here." My answer? "So, I won't have time to drive home and pack?!" He actually laughed.
In the next few hours, I got to experience many things for the first time...an ambulance ride, a flight where I was strapped to a bed, peeing in a bedpan....and watching Hubby walk back to the car, alone. Leaving me in the ambulance. That's when it hit home for me. I was in danger of having my baby in the air, or in a strange city with no one to hold my hand. There was just no way Hubby would be able to come with me, even if we could book a flight.
Long story short, I was in Vancouver for 3 days, and it was decided that Baby was fine. In fact, the ultrasound showed a healthy, fat little boy!! just waiting to arrive. I was still leaking, but slowly. The contractions were still every 2 minutes, but not getting any stronger. I was dilating, but not enough. So I got to come home. For the next month, I was in and out of the hospital, waiting and watching. Having contractions every 2 minutes. For a month. Walking block after block, every weekend, trying to get things moving. Sitting still during the week while Hubby was at school, trying to keep the baby inside. When the big day finally arrived, I almost didn't believe it was for real. I kept waiting for the nurse to say, "No, not today. It looks like we'll have to wait and check you again tomorrow." But then, there he was, wailing and kicking, alive and breathing in my arms. And it was worth every second.