God Made Me So That You Can See Small Things Are Strong Too

Every baby has a story. I have 3 of them. My stories are stories of survival. There is not a day that goes by that I don′t think about the time when each of my children were fighting for their life. Imagine being 26 weeks pregnant and going into labor. Imagine at 27 weeks, doctors standing at your bedside offering survival rates for each of your children, telling you everything that would definitely be medically wrong, what might possibly be wrong and trying to prepare you for the worst. Imagine when the doctors ask you how heroic they should be with your child. Imagine your child′s skin being transparent and watching them grow as if they were still in your womb. Imagine the pure heartache as you leave the hospital empty handed. Imagine not knowing day after day if your child would survive, or ever see, walk, breathe or eat on their own. Imagine not seeing your child for 14 hours because you didn't believe in them, you didn't believe in their strength, you didn't believe they would survive. What kind of mother doesn't believe in her own child or children?

This is my story, I have three of them, but they all start the same. This month, the month of March is an emotional one for me. I tried for eight years to have one child, I gave birth to three. I did everything the doctor told me to do and more, but it wasn't enough. This blog is written in honor of my son Dominic and my daughters Brooklyn and Kennedy, my 27-week premature triplets, my 2-pound babies.

My daughter Brooklyn Grace was born on March 20^th 2005 at 0659. She weighed 2 pounds, 2 ounces and was 11 inches long. I waited an eternity to hear her cry, all I heard was the mew of a kitten. She was a fighter right out of the gate. She fought the ventilator from day one. She fought so hard she wore herself out. I remember meeting with the doctors and respiratory therapists and being told, "We've done all we can; now it is up to her." She got off that vent after 1 week. She had her ups and downs. At 7 weeks she had surgery to close her PDA. Her vocal cord was paralyzed when she was re-intubated for the surgery, and has never recovered. But, the PDA ligation surgery was successful. She had several episodes of sepsis from kidney reflux. Then she got gastric reflux. The doctors wanted to do surgery for this, but it involved a gastric tube to feed her and I opted against it. It was a long road, but she grew out of it at around 1 years old. At 4 months old I stormed into the NICU and was going to sign out my baby against medical advice. I was thrown into a room with doctors and social workers all talking to me at one time. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. I just wanted my baby home. I took her home when she was 4 ½ months old.

My son Dominic Anthony was born on March 20^th 2005 at 0700. He weighed 2 pounds, 6 ounces and was 12 inches long. Again, I waited an eternity to hear him cry. Again, all I heard was a small weak mew. Dominic was intubated and on a ventilator for 8 weeks. During his fight, I read the Little Engine That Could, everyday to him. I didn't get to hold him until he was 7 weeks old, the day before Mother's Day. And I cried. I cried like a baby, holding my baby, while my mother wiped the tears from the face of her baby. I was with Dominic for every procedure, every lumbar puncture, everything. Consequently, every time I came around, his oxygen level would drop very low. I don't think the little guy knew if he was going to get love or get hurt. My boy came home at 3 ½ months old, on oxygen.

My daughter Kennedy Reyn was born March 20^th 2005 at 0701. She weighed 2 pounds, 7 ounces and was 12 ½ inches long. Again, all I heard was the mew of a kitten. Kennedy was originally on CPAP, but was intubated within a few hours after getting tired. She was intubated for 3 days. I remember the day she went onto room air. She didn't seem to respond to me very much, she didn't seem too alert. I mentioned this to her nurse and was treated like I was a moronic mother. I was confused of whether I was getting being a mother and a nurse confused. The next morning, Friday, April 13^th, at 9am, Kennedy stopped breathing. She had worked so hard to breathe, she had pulmonary hemorrhage. This was the only day that I hadn't gone down to see the kids in the morning. We had to get our taxes due, and had put it off until the end. We received a call from the NICU at 230pm to tell us. Yes, you read that correctly. Now, on a Friday afternoon, going with traffic, driving 40 miles, with this news, I thought my husband was going to kill us. I prayed that we crashed close enough to be taken to the same hospital. My baby was intubated for 1 week. Otherwise, Miss Kennedy was a NICU rock star, with little setbacks. My rock star came home at 3 months old.

On Sunday, April 25th I will be walking for the March of Dimes for the fifth year to help fight prematurity and birth defects. I will be walking in honor of my 27-week preemies, my 2-pound babies.

As a parent to 3 premature children, the March of Dimes has been an amazing source of strength and support to my family. They continue to fund and find amazing ways to save children that have been born too soon. Through education and awareness we can fight against babies being born prematurely and having to face lifelong disabilities and even infant mortality. My survivor′s turn 5 in one week! Thanks to organizations such as the March of Dimes, there is not one medical problem due to prematurity with any of them.

1 in every 8 babies born is born prematurely. Prematurity affects all of us. It may be your family, a friend, a neighbor or a co-worker--prematurity does not discriminate.

Today, like every day, I am celebrating my children′s survival and more importantly thanking those lucky stars that shined so brightly on Brooklyn, Dominic and Kennedy. Without them, I would never have learned the true meaning of love! So I walk, because I can′t walk away.