There are no pictures of my son on the day that he was born.
There are some photos from that day, sure?of me, hooked up to fetal monitors, giving a thumbs up; of my smiling husband, sitting in a hospital chair, waiting for my contractions to (finally) begin?but none of the little boy who changed my life forever.
When my water broke 35 weeks into my pregnancy, I was more than a little shocked. I?d done everything ?right? all the way along; I didn?t eat any of the ?forbidden? foods, I took my prenatal vitamins and tried to keep my weight gain in check. I took birthing classes, toured the hospital, signed up for a breastfeeding clinic, and even talked to experts for a story about how to get more sleep during pregnancy. It turns out, though, that babies have their own timeline, and we?re just along for the ride. And so, my sweet baby boy, Bennett, made his grand entrance into the world a month and a day ahead of his expected due date. I held him for only a moment, felt his weight and warmth on my chest while I gently stroked his head, and then watched him leave with a team of experts and my husband, bound for the NICU.
When our birthing class instructor pointed out the NICU on our tour of the hospital, I admit that I didn?t give it much thought. Not because it wasn?t an important place, but because I never imagined that we would end up there. After a pregnancy that had been so ?normal,? so easy, even, I fully expected his delivery to be the same. But there I was, shortly after ...