Go Jake Go!

After our appt and in-depth ultrasound with the high-risk group this morning, they were they pleased with Jake's progress. At 27 weeks, he is now 2.5 pounds exactly and measuring a week ahead growth-wise (which is no indication of lung development, but every extra thing will help). They agree with our decision to stay the course, but under heavy monitoring--total bedrest, blood draws once or twice a day for white counts, frequent checks of my vitals, and 24-hour heart and contraction monitoring. That's what I'm most happy about, in that I can actually doze off knowing "Big Brother" (a.k.a. the nurses) are always watching.

That said, at the first sign of any problems, I am steps away from the O.R. (here in Labor & Delivery Room 12) where they will whisk him out.

In the meantime, every hour, day, etc. is a gift, and we'll take whatever we can get! Go Jake Go!!!

A New Normal

I never thought I'd long for the "good old days" lying in my tiny antepartum room, less than a week ago. Sure it wasn't the Ritz Carlton--or more importantly, home--but I had my little routine and was encouraged by the hope of healthy boys, and a future that made present sacrifices seem insignificant.

Obviously things have changed after we were suddenly, and unwillingly, put on a new path. Total bedrest aside, including bedpans and dirty hair, this new normal comes with the ache of a broken heart and the stinging blow of defeat. Not to mention Eric's shattered dream of carrying his boys in both arms, or me envisioning my three ones trailing behind me, like ducklings in a row, or two strong sons flanking either side when I'm a feeble old lady. Daily ultrasounds drive the ugly reality home when we see Drew, now quiet and still.

But, thankfully, there is something even more powerful, when we allow ourselves to see and feel beyond the pain. And that is HOPE.

In that vein, the ultrasounds also reveal busy, determined Jake wiggling away, heart thump thump thumping along. And then there's our first little miracle, amazing Grace. During yesterday's reunion, after her second week with my sister, she lit up our sad room with her unique brand of sweetness and spunk--the best medicine in the world!

And so, life goes on.

Maybe not the life we'd envisioned just days ago, but the life we were meant to live, which WILL be happy again. It won't be an easy road, but it's the one we're on now. Sure, it's tempting to want to curl up in an effort to protect ourselves from the possibility of future blows, but that's no way to live. So, once again we'll walk hopefully into the future, one baby step at a time.

Sad News

Dear Family and Friends,

Late last night, we received the sad news that baby Andrew passed away suddenly. How surreal it seems to even type, as he was fine with good fluid levels just 24 hours before. The docs are boggled as to what happened, but when we couldn't find a heart rate on the monitor, an ultrasound revealed the shocking fact that he was out of fluid. Some of the theories include that he got tangled in his cord, had a congenital defect that we just didn't know about, or that some hidden infection set in. The latter is hard to believe since I've been monitored closely for white blood cell count, fever, etc.

Obviously our hearts are broken and we mourn for little Drew, but now we must fight harder than ever to save Jake. We were faced with the hard choice this morning of delivering him just shy of 27 weeks with all the possible complications of such a premature birth, or staying the course of keeping him inside where he is active and has plenty of fluid in his unruptured sack, but could be at risk if Andrew did have an infection that spreads through the membrane. For now, we still feel he's safer on the inside. However, it'll be an hourly watch and wait, and at the first sign of problems, he's coming out.

Please pray that he stays safe and healthy and that we are able to buy as much time as possible before they have to take him. Please pray that there is no infection in my body and that labor holds off as well. Please also pray that we can stay strong for Grace and each other as we fight for Jake and grieve for Drew.

We'll keep you posted.
Love, Laurie and Eric

T.M.I.

As isolating as my current situation can be at times, I've actually got the world at my fingertips, thanks to a wireless Internet connection and my trusty laptop. Unfortunately, that convenience isn't always a good thing in combination with my insatiable curiosity and Nancy Drew-like sleuthiness.

My temptation isn't finding compromising shots of Fabio (actually I think I'd need a new laptop if I accidentally happened upon one) or cyberstalking old boyfriends (although as I said before, it's hard not to get wrapped up in some of the juicier blogs of perfect strangers). My Achilles' heel is wanting to look up anything and everything on ruptured membrane (what I have), survival stats at various weeks of birth, long term prognosis, etc. And, I'm sure many of my initial nurses and docs left my room war torn and weary after my barrage of questions and persistent digging for answers.

The truth of the matter is, every story is different. And, deep down, I know that God is big enough to help us beat any odds or stats that I uncover. So, rather than torture myself with T.M.I (too much information), I'm making a conscious effort to replace facts and figures with childlike faith. Easier said than done, but nothing is impossible with God!

Shower Power

With all quiet on the baby front, I have time to think about less pressing matters...like showering. I have been granted every-other-day shower privileges, which involves an approximately 3-minute washdown in a chair, balancing on one cheek (my invention) to keep gravity on my side as much as possible. It's not a pretty picture, but the highlight of every 48-hours when I languish in a few brief moments of luxury, a.k.a. removing the hospital stink.

To the outside world, a simple shower may not be cause for celebration, but in my new surroundings, it's just one of the many things that I didn't give much thought to before, but suddenly view with new apreciation. In fact, this applies to everything from seeing the inside of Target to taking out the trash. Have my daydreams taken a dive, or am I just realizing how pleasurable the simple pleasures can be?

So enjoy your day--REALLY enjoy it--and ALL the little things that contribute to our life experiences. In other words, take time to truly smell the roses...or even the trash.

Gone to the Dark Side

While I can't deny getting wrapped up in the blogs of even complete strangers, I never thought I'd have the time or nerve to post my own. After all, it seems pretty narcissistic to assume that anyone would give a rat's patootie about the mundane details of moi. However, a lot can change when faced with endless hours of free time with no end in sight. Plus, I thought this might be an easy way to keep everyone up-to-date on "Operation Keep 'Em Cookin'". Rather than bombard you with emails, you can check in from time to time and see what's new.

Speaking of which, no news is good news at the moment. I am now 26 weeks pregnant-YAHOO! And working toward goals of 28, 30, 32, and ultimately 34 weeks, when docs would ideally take the babies by c-section.

I am monitored twice a day for an hour for the babies' heartbeats and any contractions. And every Monday I am taken downstairs (Roadtrip!) to the antenatal testing unit to measure the fluid around the babies, cervical length (long and closed is what we're shooting for) and occasionally, growth measurements.

We continue to pray that the babies remain happy and safe INSIDE and that fever, infection, contractions and labor stay far, far away! One day at a time...

In the meantime, Grace is loving her second week at "Camp Rada" with Lindsay, Chris and Ben. They're having a ball together and Eric and I are comforted knowing that she is safe and happy. (This is not to say that we don't miss her dearly and thoroughly enjoyed our reunion over the weekend.)

Well, time to get monitored. Thanks to all for your prayers...and please keep 'em coming!