What a difference a day makes

Last entry I shared what a difference one week makes.  Today you'll see how a day changes everything.

After going to my maternal fetal doc on Thursday, we were told there was no more amniotic fluid remaining.  It was expected though still tough to hear and difficult to watch on that fuzzy screen.  We toured the NICU which was informative and comforting, but it was also an emotional roller coaster for us.  The machines, tubes, staff, computers, and everything else that goes along with a NICU baby are overwhelming.

As we went to bed on Thursday night, I settled in, feeling Ethan kick and squirm with his regular routine.  But at 4 o'clock on Friday morning, I woke up and knew something felt different.  I hadn't felt Ethan move since going to sleep.  

The nurse came in mid-morning and hooked me up to the fetal monitor, which I'm usually on for 1 hour.  At the 1 hour mark she returned and I could see that alarming look of concern.  

We laid here for hours more, watching the monitor, checking for signs of activity.  He just seemed tired, like the "hide in Mommy's tummy" game was over and he was waving the white flag.  The doctor did several more checks before finally returning at 4 p.m. to say it was time to deliver our little Ethan.  

Things started moving pretty fast at that point, preparing me for c-section surgery, prayers with my parents, and of course, updating Facebook!  A few pokes, flips, stretches, and tears later, and we heard the sweetest sound in the entire world….the cries of Ethan Marx Diveley.

We cried, laughed, and listened for every voice in the room to give us an inkling of how he was doing.  The NICU team took him to the NICU, where he is now, doing a tremendous job at just being Ethan.  He has no alarming problems right now, though we know that over the next weeks we'll see the roller coaster effect of his health.  But at the moment he is just simply a miniature version of a full-term baby.  He cries, sucks on a pacifier, breathes on his own, kicks his legs out of the little pillow surrounding him, and grasps our finger when we put it in his little house.

The plan is that I'll be discharged on Monday, will return home to Independence to regroup, heal a little bit more, and attempt to make our short term and long term plans.  We will do a lot of traveling back and forth, probably a few days home, a few days here.  We're exploring our different boarding options right now.

I knew we would love our baby, but I just didn't know how I could love another child like I love my first.  Then I heard those quick little cries in the delivery room and knew my heart was forever changed….forever joyful, forever fearful, forever full.  When we reach inside his little plastic house and put our hands close to him, he instinctively grabs our fingers.  He quiets and calms at the sound of our voices.  It absolutely brings to a tangible focus, the incredible power of God.

One irony that just occurred to me….  I picked Ethan's baby bedding several weeks ago.  We discussed the different themes, colors, choices, etc…., until I couldn't stand to look at nursery bedding anymore.  Ultimately we chose a bedding set that has little vintage airplanes on it.  It wasn't one that I would have originally chosen as airplanes don't have too much significance to us, but the colors were cute and it was something different.  It just seems odd to pick a theme "out of the air" like that and yet Ethan's life was pretty much ushered in with an unexpected plane ride.  And I have a feeling Ethan is going to fight to be in the pilot seat for the rest of his life!