Leaving the secure if somewhat claustrophobic bubble of the NICU after three months was tinged with many conflicting emotions. We so desperately wanted to be a “normal” family, yet in our hearts we dreaded the day that the enormous responsibility of caring for our daughter would be placed on our shoulders alone. Our parenting journey to date had been filled with medical emergencies, medical interventions, enough medical personal to fill a football team and very little family time to enable us get to know Amelia.
It was September 7, 2003 and I had been on bed rest for a little over a day. The day before I had been in a car coming back from an extended family outing when I felt my bladder let go in the front seat. Embarrassed, I said nothing, but quietly asked my husband, Gregg, to get to the nearest bathroom. All alone in a grocery store bathroom, I discovered that my water had broken. With tears streaming down my face, I apologized to my daughter in quiet hysterics and then frantically called family members in the car only to get voicemail after voicemail message. So I cleaned up as best I could and headed to the front of the store, stopping in at the office and in a surreally calm voice relayed and asked, “I believe I am in preterm labor. Where is the nearest hospital? May I borrow your phone to call my doctor?” Continue reading