Happenings of Aidan with musings by his lucky parents
This is what it feels like to finally be cutting all 4 two year molars at once!
Poor bub. Not only does he have a spring cold, but they are all coming through at one time! They all started breaking through the gum in the last few days, and they just look painful!
Aidan:
Your daddy and I are already saving for your college education. We started way back when you were in the NICU. Your great grandfather gave us your first $100 for your college savings account. Already it has several thousand dollars in it, and we have every intention of having enough money in there for your college degree.
But it will probably not be a private or Ivy League institution. We have a good reason for this, and I felt I should explain it now so you don’t think it is a red herring when you are 18 and we tell you where all our money went.
You see son, the extra money went to buying you new shoes every 4-5 weeks and new clothing almost as often! Seriously, you are a hugely tall child! You wore your size 9 shoes for about 5 weeks. I decided to go get you an extra pair for dirtying up since it is getting nice outside. I went into Stride Rite and was going to pick up a pair when the salesperson suggested we measure your feet quickly. I thought there was no reason since I had purchased shoes and had your feet measured a scant 5 weeks earlier. You now need size 10’s! In 5 weeks!
The other night we noticed your old pajamas were short enough that we were seeing exposed belly. I went out to get you more and you needed size 5 pajamas! Not so much for your weight, but your height my little giant. Here you are in your size 5 pajamas…and they fit!
You see, it is hard to save for a private college education when we are dropping $50 at StrideRite and $100 at Gymboree every month.
But don’t worry. State schools have great educations and they are plenty of fun. I didn’t do so bad going to one.
Oh, and don’t blame me for the “freakishly tall” and “freakishly huge feet” genes. Those belong to your Dad. 
3 years ago today we found out about you. We talked about you for years before we dared to try for you. We worked hard at our jobs and built a house to make a great life for you. We spent a few years just being husband and wife knowing that your arrival would change everything. In the fall of 2004 we began planning for you in earnest. I visited doctors to make sure my body was ready for you.
We started trying for you in January of 2005. The doctor warned us it may take us a while because I had been on the pill for a long time. We were excited and nervous at the same time. In February I was a couple of days late and took a home pregnancy test. It was negative. I felt sad and yet relieved. In March I was a couple of days late again and took another test. Negative again. It seemed the doctor was right. This might take us a little while. Two mornings later, I was still late.
So the morning of March 17, 2005 I walked sleepily to the bathroom when I awoke. I remembered that I should take another test. I put the stick up on the window ledge and went out into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I went back in to get the test, fully expecting only 1 pink line. TWO?!?! I rubbed my eyes and looked again. I was smiling and shaking. I walked into the bedroom to see Brandon half awake rubbing his eyes. I must have looked shaken because he asked me what was wrong. On the way over to him I was shaking so bad I almost dropped the test stick. I handed it to him nervously. He looked at me and said, “Ok. So two pink lines means pregnant or not pregnant?” (Wow…do guys really not know this? :-) )
I asked, “So you see two lines? I am not out of my mind?” He nodded and smiled. We were having a baby! We embraced for the longest time. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back into bed. “We’re gonna be late to work today,” he said. “I just want us to soak this all in and remember this moment.”
We laid in bed cuddled up together for a good long while just basking in our love and the wonder of the journey we were beginning.
Aidan, we have loved you from the moment we knew about you. We began our journey as parents that day. Thank you for the most amazing, love-filled 3 years of our lives. Thank you for the tremendous gift of being our son.
Aidan and I visited his old stomping grounds last week–the NICU where he spent the first 15 weeks of his life. It was a spur of the moment trip. Earlier in the day we went to the park to meet Catherine (one of his respiratory therapists turned friend/”grandma”/babysitter) and her dog Bella at the park. We had a wonderful time. Aidan LOVES dogs. He laughs hysterically when Bella licks his face. He even tries to get up on her back and ride her like a horse.
After the park we went to dinner with Catherine. We were taking her back to her house when she suddenly said, “I almost forgot. I think Janet is working tonight.” Janet was one of Aidan’s night primary nurses. Aidan was a very popular boy in the NICU. He had 2 day primary nurses and 2 night primary nurses. Sometimes they would have to “fight” each other for Aidan duty. We had not seen Janet in person in almost a year and a half. So Catherine called the NICU to make sure she was working.
We got there at about 6:30 and got to see the day shift right before they left and the night shift as they were coming on. It was absolutely wonderful. One of his day primaries, Kathi, was working along with about 5 other day shift nurses who had cared for him. On the night shift coming in we saw about 5 or 6 night nurses. Janet almost choked on her dinner when Aidan came running up to her.
The nurses seemed to be stuck in place. Their expressions can be described as nothing short of sheer joy and amazement. Of course we send pictures almost on a monthly basis via email to the NICU, but all of the nurses told me it is NOTHING like actually seeing the child.
The antepartum coordinator was there also. She asked if I wouldn’t mind visiting a few mothers in the hospital on bedrest and talking with them about Aidan. I am always willing to be of help. That hospital saved my life and saved my son’s life.
I met 4 different pregnant women. #1 was 31 weeks with twins and some evidence of the placenta starting to separate from the uterine wall. #2 was 26 weeks with preterm labor. #3 was 31 weeks with twins with Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. #4 was 29 weeks with mild preeclampsia. All of the babies are measuring significantly bigger than Aidan when he was born. The mother who seemed most affected by our visit was mother #1. Her twins are a shade over 3 pounds each. She became very emotional when I recounted Aidan’s birth stats and she realized her twins were double Aidan’s birthweight. She and her husband seemed very frightened but bolstered by our visit. They were in awe of Aidan and thanked me profusely for my visit. I answered a lot of questions for them and I feel as if I gave them hope.
We visited some more with his nurses who also seemed bolstered by seeing this 2 1/2 year old running around. They could scarcely reconcile the moment with the 1.5 lb preemie they so tenderly cared for. They thanked me and told me that it is these moments that make their jobs worthwhile…that give them hope.
I reflected on the visit later that evening and felt a mix of emotions. There seems to be a big gaping hole in most NICUs and antepartum units in terms of taking care of emotional needs of the family. What would it have meant to me when I was on bedrest to have met a family who had a “good” outcome? Does that sort of meeting give hope or false hope? What had I given these antepartum parents or even the nurses for that matter? Hope or false hope?
A picture frame hangs on the central hallway wall in this NICU. There are now 2 others next to it. The picture was the first graduate picture hung on the hallway of his NICU. On Aidan’s first birthday we framed two pictures…one of Aidan on the day of his birth with Brandon’s hand behind him. Another was a montage of first birthday pictures with the inscription “Forever Grateful for Aidan Christopher”. I have had other parents remark to me that this picture gave them hope as they walked by it every day.
I worry sometimes that our story gives false hope. I know that the odds of a 1.5lb baby turning into a walking, talking, running, jumping, laughing toddler are not amazing odds. There are children who have difficulties and even disabilities. Life with Aidan has not been completely smooth sailing. We had some feeding issues and lungs to watch out for. But life felt sublime after that evening visit. We had come so far. Were we really in that place only 2.5 years ago? But when I visited those women, I remembered that fear. The ultimate fears. What if my baby doesn’t make it? What if my baby is permanently impacted?
Would I have wanted mostly blunt honesty about outcomes? Would I have wanted to see a child like Aidan?
I think I’d want both. I would want to know what *could be*…in both manners of speaking. Possible difficult outcomes…but also the ability to hope. The hope of what could be. The hope of a joyous toddler. The hope of Aidan.
I really pray I didn’t give false hope. As I thought about it more the next day, I came to the conclusion that there is nothing false about the hope I gave. Aidan is real. His outcome is real. Parents in this scary situation desperately need something to grab onto. I talked about the difficulties we faced, but I also talked about how most of my days now are filled with chasing after a very curious and active toddler.
The experience of that evening makes me want to do more for families faced with antepartum and NICU stays and impacts of prematurity. I’m just not sure what that looks like yet.