34 Weeks

We made it! We made it!

34 weeks is definitely a milestone in any pregnancy. It’s the point when normally doctors won’t stop labor if it starts naturally because the baby has developed enough to have a fighting chance at avoiding so many scary preemie issues. And in our very special case, we can all breathe a touch easier now that we have made it this far. We had a great check-up today. Not only did Hannah’s tests continue to be reassuring, but she also grew over a pound in two weeks and is now up to 5 pounds 2 ounces. That’s 70th percentile and, yes…bigger than Eloise was at this point in my pregnancy with her. We are thrilled and directly attribute our good luck to all of the prayers and positive thoughts that have been coming from all of you.

For the past four weeks…or eight months, really…all we wanted was to make it to 37 weeks with this baby. Last week, though, Mike and I learned just how dangerous the situation that Hannah has been surviving in really is. We were so concerned with premature ramifications on top of the issues we will face when she’s born that we were ignorant to just how precarious the situation we are in right now is. It’s not so much a risk of my spontaneously going into labor early…it’s the fact that Hannah’s environment has been compromised.  How she has done as well as she has for as long as she has in these dangerous conditions is even shocking our medical team. All signs point to the fact that we have a strong, feisty, remarkable little girl on our hands. But we are all acutely aware that things could take a very dire turn very quickly. And even if we do make it to a full term, 37 week delivery…there is a real chance that her lungs could be adversely affected by this latest complication. We are far from being in the clear and we just have no idea what to expect until she’s born. Those are the ugly thoughts which have plagued my strange, boring days and kept me up at night. Suffice it to say, everyone is on edge.

Who’s read Shopaholic? I swear Becky Bloomwood has gotten me through the past four weeks. I’ve taken a page out of her playbook: I’m ignoring the worst case scenario as if my life depended on it. Sticking it in a drawer and forgetting about it like Becky hides her shopping bills and lives with the delusion that everything will be just fine in the end.  (The strategy is working out better for me than it ever did for crazy-but-loveable Becky.)

So here’s where we’re at. Every week, twice a week, our doctors will continue to revisit a delicate balancing act: how long to keep Hannah where she is (hopefully growing and developing)  vs. inducing her at the slightest sign of distress  to cut out the life-threatening risks of her staying put any longer. I will continue to stay off my feet as much as possible and try not to lose my mind in the process under the pressure of constantly monitoring her movements and freaking out about things completely out of my control. And in this manor, hopefully we can make it three more weeks without serious drama. And once we do, hopefully her lungs will be in good shape and that’s one less thing we will have to worry about. We’ll keep praying, praying, praying for the best case scenarios. But one thing at a time. Let’s just make it through the pregnancy.

One of my best friends recently told me the only thing left to do was, “Trust our doctors. Trust Hannah. Trust God.” So with that mantra…here we go. Three more weeks.