"911... what is your emergency?"
Me: Well, my 5 month old hasn't woken up yet.
911: Is the baby in distress?
Me: I think he's sleeping. He never woke up during the night and its 8:30a.m. and he still hasn't woken up.
911: Is your baby breathing?
Me: I think so. I can see him on the video monitor.
911: Ma'am... if you can see your baby and your baby is breathing, I assume he is just asleep.
Me: But that means he slept through the night?
911: Yeah, it happens eventually.
Ok, so I didn't really call 911... but that conversation went through my head about 400 times this morning. Jack slept from 8:45pm to 8:30am. NO FEEDINGS! Picture angels singing hallelujah while the clouds part and golden sunshine pours down upon my sparkling home. The funny part is... Jack's sleep led to me not being able to sleep at all.
I woke up and Mark had already left for work. I assumed that Jack must have woken up in the night and Mark fed him. So, I wait for him to wake up for another meal. I check the video monitor... he's there on his back like always. I assume he is breathing, but I can't tell for sure. I call Mark and he says that no, he didn't feed Jack. Jack slept through the night. Tabbi starts getting ready for school, so I assume Jack will be up any second. No. No movement coming from his crib. For a minute, I am taken back to a blog entry I read once (Moosh In Indy... she's good. Go read her). The writer said that she would wonder if her daughter was ok in the crib sometimes, but if she went to check, she would wake her up. So, she would ponder what to do thinking that if she checked, she'd wake her, and if she didn't check something might be wrong. Then she thought that if there was something wrong, what was she going to do about it? I had that moment of...well, if something is wrong, its been wrong for awhile and there's no changing it, but if he is peacefully sleeping I am not going to risk that! So, I waited. I watched. I wanted to take advantage of this once in a lifetime (or 6 month) opportunity to sleep in, but I couldn't. I was busy waiting and watching. Watching and waiting. By 8:30ish, he was awake. Crisis averted.
This is not the first time that Mr. Jack forced me to contemplate his mortality. When I was about 10 or 12 weeks along, my doctor couldn't find his heartbeat. She kept trying and trying and all you could hear was the swoosh of her moving the doplar across my belly. Finally she found a beat, but no... that was mine. Swoosh. Swoosh. Finally... another beat. Nope... mine again. Swoosh. Swoosh. Nothing. My OB was very pragmatic. Its possible that the baby was behind the uterus and therefore the beat was too soft to be picked up. Or, its possible that there is no beat. So, let's schedule an ultrasound and check. At the ultrasound, my mom and I watched as they gooed me up and put the scanny part (technical term, I am sure) on my belly. A baby appeared. But, it was still as still can be. I looked at my mom and saw her tear up and I cannot even remember who spoke at that time, but one of us said that it wasn't moving. Its funny that I can usually remember details down to what people are wearing at the moment of a certain event or conversation, but this time... I can't even remember who said what. The ultrasound operator responded "that's a still picture." She turned on the live stream and the heart just fluttered away. He was behind the uterus just like the doctor said.
Later, around 26 weeks I was upstairs getting ready for a gorgeous and sunny Saturday. I was showering and went to get dressed, pulled on my pants and felt a gush. Gushes are never good. At first I thought I wet my pants. I never did that with my first pregnancy, but I knew others that did, so I assumed it was pee pee time. Diapers for everyone! Then I pulled down my drawers and it wasn't urine. It was fire engine red blood. I went numb for a minute and couldn't even comprehend what was happening. An intelligent person would have been dialing their doc before they pulled up their grunders (translation... underwear. Lynn speak...sorry). Instead, I called my mom. Luckily, she is much better than I am and she told me I needed to call the doc. Doctor OB Lady says "go to hospital asap. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200." (Ok, that is not an exact quote, but you get the message). So, off we go. After hours of waiting, tests, exams... it turns out that I had a tear in my placenta. Stupid innards... always causing problems. I was admitted for observation with the understanding that if I bled too much, the placenta separated completely and they would have to deliver my way too young, not developed enough baby. The likelihood of him surviving delivery at that stage of development was around 30%. Not good odds. In most cases the placenta fully separates. In some cases, the minor bleeding keeps happening so often that you are admitted to the hospital for bed rest for the duration of your pregnancy. In my case, it happened that day and never again. If Jack were a cat, he'd be down by two lives.
So, I sat in bed today and thought about those moments. The "I think my baby is dead or dying" moments of my pregnancy. I knew in my logical mind that he was just sleeping in his crib this morning, but I waited and I watched to make sure. All I could think is that we've made it this far... there is no way I'd lose him now. And by the grace of God (and next time my butt is sleeping in) that kid slept through the night. Its a miracle... and you know what... with all those issues... he kinda is.