Another milestone, in grief and growth.

This evening as I write, I am watching my beautiful baby boy sleep, with reflections of his dreams flitting across his tiny face, and the occasional twitch in his fingers, sucking periodically at his little blue binky. Most importantly, I am watching his rhythmic breath, in and out; his beautiful, life-sustaining breath.

Tonight he is five weeks and five days old.

Pregnancy was a huge emotional roller coaster. I had fear and joy, doubt and excitement, and more than anything, a growing sense of love. I had worries that all I would see in this amazing little guy is my lost baby. I dreaded that I would distance myself from him, just waiting for the possible end to happen. I lived in a state of unbalance, swinging between unease and a love filled contentment.

At 35 weeks I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. I was set on a low carb diet and a strict self-testing regiment to track my blood sugar. At my 36 week appointment the doc looked over my numbers and hospitalized me for uncontrollable sugars. It was explained to me that when uncontrolled, gestational diabetes can have negative effects on baby. It can cause excessive weight, premature birth, and possible breathing problems. Those last two words sent me into an absolute panic. And of course, guess what has a negative effect on blood sugar control? Psychological stress. Monitoring through the weekend showed that my blood sugar was difficult to get in check, even with insulin, and after a scary early-morning severe hypoglycemic episode the doctors decided that an early delivery would be best.

That afternoon, my beautiful baby Ash was delivered at 12:32 through c-section. It was an extremely emotional delivery for me, wrought with worry for my child. I did my best to not sob through it, fearing that I would shake my body as they were digging around inside me. My deepest fears were realized when they brought him out and he had trouble breathing. They immediately put him on a breathing machine, and took him to the NICU.

As I lay on that table thinking about what was happening, all those doubts and fears came back. Would this baby not make it? Would I be able to bring myself to go and see him? Would my heart be able to take it if I looked at his tiny little body? What if while I was looking, he stopped breathing? How could I do this? How could I survive losing another child? But then, what I did know was that 37 weeks in my body had already created a bond, a love that I couldn't deny. As soon as I was off the table, I was asking how long till I could go see baby in NICU.

It was nearly five hours later when I finally got to go and see my beautiful child. I got to touch his soft skin, and look at his beautiful little form, and I got the reassurance that a machine was making sure that he was breathing... I didn't have to watch his back rise and fall, because they were tracking every tiny breath he took.

Ashton did great under their watchful care. He was off the breathing machine by four am on Tuesday, and I got to hold him in my arms. His breathing was normal, and he was taking whatever nutrition I was able to pump in addition to the feeding tube he still had. After they took him off the feeding tube, they told me that as long as his blood sugar level was good through four feedings, they would let him leave the NICU. Unfortunately, he had trouble nursing, which we later found out was because he was 'tongue-tied' (that's a thing!), which was corrected at about 1 month old with a simple procedure. This little problem kept him in the NICU until we started supplementing with formula, at which point, he thrived! Ash left the NICU early on Wednesday morning, We brought him home to his adoring big sister and brother that evening.

It has been five weeks and five days of motherly bliss. I still get anxious, of course. I have moments of absolute panic when I can't see the rise and fall of his breaths. I awake from nightmares, in a cold sweat, seeking reassurance in his living body. I don't doubt my ability to love him separately from his lost brother, though. And now I know I can do this. I can live with a little fear and a ton of love.

Tonight marks the night. This is the age Rhys was when he left us. This makes for an extremely emotional night, and an extremely watchful one as well. I don't imagine I'll get much sleep. I will, however, spend every last minute of it loving the hell out of this amazing child of mine.