Right now my son is sitting in my lap.
You read that right... my son.
If someone would have told me back in January that things would actually work out I would have looked at them with a jaded eye and said "don't patronize me." My cynicism regarding pregnancies and the possibility of them actually working out was kept pretty close to myself... D and I didn't even flinch with a positive pregnancy test... we were used to those. As the stakes were raised - it was in the uterus... it had a heartbeat... we had bleeding... it still had a heartbeat with appropriate growth... etc etc. Things still seemed like a work of fiction. This wasn't happening to us... it was just a figment of our imagination. Something bad would happen to jeopardize this something wonderful in our lives.
That didn't stop us from bonding with Squeaky while he was inside... it just made us very pessimistic when talking about the future. I spent most of the first trimester in disbelief... same goes for the second trimester. By the time the third rolled around I had to face facts that this was a possibility - yet I worried that something would go wrong. I prayed nightly and daily that we would have our son. D did as well. I had nightmares - of my water breaking and a foot coming out. How odd since at the time we didn't know Squeaky was breech. Fortunately that nightmare did not become a reality - though when I realized my water broke that did cross my mind. Thank goodness Squeaky's ass was firmly implanted on my cervix or a foot could have occurred.
On the drive home after my water broke at work all I did was try to call D and pray... pray that if he was coming that day that he would be okay... that he wouldn't end up in the NICU... that he wasn't in any distress... that he would just be okay. I didn't let on my worry to D until we were finally at the hospital and the doctors mentioned the NICU team that would be there. Then D began to worry. Even knowing the possibility was slim that he would need to go to NICU and my doctor was of course overly reassuring knowing that it was a part of the "routine for preterm labors and c-sections" added a level of anxiety that I truly didn't need at the time.
Now two weeks and change later I can say yes all that anxiety was worth it. Squeaky may not nurse worth a damn (maybe for 5 minutes if that) so we pump (yes he's a lazy white boy who would rather sleep than eat). We've been to the lactatioin consultant two times since we came home (4 times while we were in the hospital) and a third time on this coming Wednesday. We're still on fortifier for his feedings... he's as of Friday the 14th 6 lbs 4 oz and 19 inches long. So we haven't given up hope of actually breastfeeding rather than pumping, but it's been a challenge and a struggle that's for sure.
The dogs are in love with him... and we still love the dogs. D will go back to work on Sunday... and I'm slightly terrified, but also know that with all we've been through we can get through this as well and make it work.
Ultimately I am happy... and my son now needs to eat. So I must pump...