My Pregnancy

When I was 29 I survived cervical cancer, but I was told I wouldn't be able to have children.

Almost a decade later, I discovered I was pregnant. I wasn't trying. I was on the pill and surprised to say the very least. My baby was due on October 4, 2003, but we lost her on March 21. We call her Angel.

It was October 4, 2003 and I was late. I thought my body was playing a cruel joke on me. After all, instead of holding my newborn, I was grieving. I took the second pregnancy test that was in the kit that had been purchased earlier in the year, just to prove to my body I wasn't pregnant. You know, mind over matter. I found out my pill had fail for a second time.

My pregnancy was perfect. No morning sickness, no cravings, absolutely wonderful. Because I was over 35 years old my doctor suggested getting an amniocentesis. The results came back two days before Christmas.

We found out I was having a healthy baby boy.

Life was perfect!

On March 17th I went to my scheduled doctor's appointment. He told me all was well. I went to lunch with a girlfriend. Midway through lunch I started getting cramps. I assumed I ate something that had disagreed with me, very normal for me even when I wasn't pregnant. I called my doctor to see what I could take to help relieve my gassy tummy. Antacids didn't work. Tea didn't work. Hours later I was talking to the hospital about what else I can do to get rid of my gas pains. They asked how long I had been having the cramps and were they coming regularly. I said 9½ hours of cramps and about 3 minutes apart. I needed to get to the hospital immediately!

That was where my perfect pregnancy ended.

Scott, Colt's dad, rushed home and we rushed to the hospital. I was in pre-term labor. I was only 26 weeks along. The closest hospital that can handle a baby that early was 2½ hours away and they didn't have any available beds. While trying to find a hospital that could help, Life Flight was called. All helicopters were busy and they couldn't accommodate me either. My local hospital, Marietta Memorial, found a bed for me at Mount Carmel West. An advanced care emergency squad transported me the 125 plus miles during the middle of the night to Columbus, Ohio. We arrived around 4 a.m.

It took two terrifying days, but the hospital got the contractions stopped. I was given an IV with a magnesium drip to stop the contractions and steroid shots to help boost Colt's lung development, just in case he came early. If the contractions were to start again, I would be getting an emergency C-section, but everything was looking good. I was told that I would be in the hospital for the next 3 months on bed rest.

It was now March 21, 2004, Scott and I were watching the race. My driver was doing well and Scott planned to go home after the race was over. I was cramping again, but they didn't show up as contractions on the contraction monitor. The hospital said it was just going to be a bowel movement. I was in serious pain, but toughing it out. I was sweating profusely and truly believed the commode wouldn't survive this experience.

Scott, a former firefighter, suggested that I get on the bed and a call was made for the nurse. I cramped hard, dove for the toilet, and was surprised when my water breaks. I reached down in shock and found Colt's feet were hanging out of me. Scott got me on the bed as I delivered Colt's bottom. Scott collapsed the bed and was getting it out of the doorway as the nurse ran into the room, wedging the bed in the doorway. They got the bed loose and Scott was in a full sprint, pushing the bed towards the delivery room. Colt was now delivered up to his shoulders, but his head was stuck in the birth canal. My baby couldn't breathe and his umbilical cord was pinched off. My baby was dying.

The delivery room was not fully prepared for a pre-term baby, but they responded immediately. I was "folded in half" and told to push. I could see my son. Colt was gray and wasn't moving. I pushed, but like many first time mothers, I did it wrong. I was quickly instructed how to push correctly and out came Colt. He was immediately taken by the NICU team to a cold warming table.

My body had gone into shock. I couldn't feel my hands and I wasn't answering basic questions, like when was my birthday, correctly. I did know I hadn't heard my baby cry yet. I kept asking why wasn't he crying, but nobody would answer me. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard it. I have never heard a sound like it before. It was so small, smaller than the smallest sound I had ever heard, and yet it was thunderous. The nurses erupted in cheers for they had successfully revived him. Despite all the nurses around him, I saw his left hand up in the air. It was bright pink and he was reaching for the sky. Colt was alive!

As the NICU team removed Colt from the delivery room they stop and showed him to me. He was so tiny. He had black hair, like his daddy. He seemed content wrapped in his blanket. I truly believed that will be the last time I would see him alive. They took him to the NICU and the drugs the hospital gave me began to kick in. I don't remember much for the next 36 hours. I remember being told my driver won the race and I remember I kept asking if Colt was still alive.

This is pretty much where Colt starts to tell his story. This book was written from a child's personal perspective to another child who now has a sibling in the NICU. It explains what is happening to their new little sister or brother.

Everyone who has read this book says that every parent of a preemie needs to read this book.

If Colt's story can help one family, then we have achieved our goal.

This book will give them hope.