NIAW 2018: Flip the Script

National Infertility Awareness Week is technically over (I’m a day late!) but it got me thinking about my fellow infertility warriors — those still in the fight and those who are still healing from their battle wounds — and what NIAW means to me now. This kind of goes without saying but, infertility is a hard road to walk. You can feel helpless and hopeless, and too often alone. And even after you get your miracle, that pain of what you went through doesn't disappear. As in the wake of a bad relationship, you will sometimes carry (and open up) that baggage into your "happily ever after." Infertility changes you, but I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing.

Infertility cultivated within me patience and perseverance, and it forced me to find the positive — it was the only way to continue on. It reconnected me to my faith and required me to invest not only in treatment, but in hope. It strengthened the bonds of my marriage, deepening my husband and I's trust in one another. Infertility reaffirmed my heart's lifelong desire to be a mother and made the welcoming of my daughter that much sweeter. 

Infertility took from me the ability to get pregnant "the natural way," it took away the mystery and spontaneity of it all and it did, unfortunately, take a bit of the joy at times BUT infertility didn't steal one ounce of love out of the equation. Yes, we needed the help of science. Glorious, God-given science. Assisted reproductive technology is an amazing thing! But like any TTC couple, at the end of the day our effort to conceive was all about love. Love for each other and love for the life we so desperately wanted to create together. 

My infertility is a part of me and our story isn't over — we hope to have more children — but there is a sense that I'm "on the other side." As a new mama to an IVF baby, I've gained new perspective on those past hurts. Today, I look at my infertility journey as I do my c-section scar: Though unexpected and unwanted, through it came something beautiful.

Me & my miracle, March 2018.

17 Years, Still Missing You

It's strange. I'm always hyper-aware of the date. I've thought about it many times in recent weeks. Heck, I thought about it yesterday! And yet, somehow, it took me until 6:30 tonight, while making dinner, to realize. I saw the expiration date on a package of chicken and gasped: It's April 26.

Seventeen years have passed since Jeremy died. And this is, to my recollection, the first time I almost forgot the day we lost him. Of course I could never actually forget the date, but I nearly missed recognizing the date today.

When we visited Southern California earlier this month, we stopped by the cemetery with Delilah so she could "meet" her uncle. I know he isn't there and I truly believe he saw her — celebrated her — the moment she was born. Yet I still felt a desire to stop by his grave. But I kept it quick. I had mascara on! We had places to be, people to see, and I knew if I lingered too long or spoke the words in my heart that the tears would start and they'd be hard to stop. 

It goes without saying but I'll say it anyway. Jeremy, I miss you. Even when I almost forget to stop and think about how much I miss you, I miss you. (I blame today on mom brain, for real.) You were a wonderful son, brother, friend... And I know you would have been an amazing uncle if given the chance. That's what hurts the most sometimes, that those joys were stolen from you, from us, from Delilah. Life isn't fair and there's no good reason for you to be gone... and yet life goes on, just as you would want it I suppose. When Delilah is older, she will hear about her Uncle Jeremy, because grief has not silenced your name or memory. You are still living in the hearts and minds of those who loved you and that will never change, no matter how many years pass ... or how busy our days get. Love you always. 

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(P.S. Last year's post.)

SIX

Six months. SIX months. Can you believe it? I hardly can. Our little lady Delilah Wren has been in our lives for half a year... though, she's been a piece of our hearts forever. We met 6 months ago in the most unexpected of ways and parenthood continues to surprise Greg and I. It's everything we dreamed and nothing we imagined. Funny, right? It's harder, but it's better. Being this girl's mama and dada is the very best thing. The past 25 weeks now seem to have flown by in a blink. Suddenly she's not so tiny anymore (over 15 pounds!) and she's starting to get on the move. I can't pause time so I'm just trying to soak in every moment, and we're looking forward to all the fun adventures ahead with our sweet, silly, smart, getting-stronger-every-day, adorable girl.

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A few accomplishments and favorites this past month:

• Rolling over! Delilah rolled over on her own for the first time on March 29 at 22 weeks. Now, she can roll over from back to belly and vice versa, though the latter is not always on purpose... yet she does seem to be getting more in control every day. Baby girl especially loves to roll over in her play gym the moment mama walks away to get coffee / go to the bathroom / run upstairs for some miscellaneous item. It’s like a game because when you are sitting right next to her, you often have to convince and entice her to show off her rolling skills. But you shift your gaze and BAM! She’s half off her playmat.

• With rolling over came a newfound tolerance and, dare I say it, enjoyment of tummy time. No longer are we timing how long Delilah is on her belly or pulling out every trick in the book to get her to stay on her tummy just 30 seconds longer. She’s in TT… she’s out of TT… and she’s back in… multiple times a day. And she can hang for quite awhile given enough motivation (the dogs are a favorite) but she does eventually tire. She also seems to be more aware of the fact that she can’t quite move the way we can and she gets frustrated. She sees something (the dogs, or a toy) and she wants to get there, but can’t. Cue the tears and rubbing her face in the floor. Delilah has begun to pull her legs and feet up though, a pre-crawling milestone, so she’s making progress! One day soon, she will get there. (But not too soon, baby!)

• While crawling is likely still a few months off, we have been working on sitting up. Delilah can’t sit up just yet, and makes no attempts to do so when laying on the floor, but she is constantly crunching her little abs to bring herself forward when reclining in our arms. (This often leads to spit up all over Greg and I, especially when she performs this “exercise” after her bottle.) She can “sit up” in our laps, propped forward, for a minute or so, but we’re anxiously awaiting the day she learns to truly sit and hold her head steady in that position. Practice will make perfect!

• Our long-legged baby finally found her feet! She didn't seem at all interested in them even though she loved us kissing them... And then one day she purposefully grabbed her foot! Delilah isn't all that fascinated by them as some other babies are, but she has made a few hilarious efforts to suck her big toe — but only found success when leaning waaaayyy over in that propped position on our laps. I think her long legs make putting her toes in her mouth a tad tricky.

• Watching Greg and I eat has been an intriguing spectator sport for Delilah for some time now. She always seemed to just be wondering what we were doing and was bemused by our biting, munching and crunching. But something clicked and now, in just the past two weeks, she wants what we have. When out at restaurants, she has begun reaching for our plates, our food. But even before eyeing our food, she was obsessed with cups. Cups of all kinds. Glass, plastic, paper, even cans. Doesn’t matter. She is unusually excited by our beverages and if she’s in your lap she will reach up to grab said drink as you bring it to your lips.

• Delilah has been much more vocal in recent weeks. She’s not babbling with consonant sounds yet but she absolutely loves to squeal and scream at the top of her lungs when she is really happy or excited. She seems to get a kick out of hearing her own octave range. (Out-of-the-ordinary sounds/faces/gestures also tend to be winners when it comes to making Delilah laugh!) She learned to blow raspberries and was pretty fixated on that new skill for about a week but it seems to have lost its luster, ha! Every morning though, without fail, when Delilah wakes up she coos to herself. No matter how tired, it is the sweetest way to greet a new day.

• A final note, as of our trip to Southern California a week and a half ago, Delilah is no longer sleeping in her bassinet at night! While “on the road,” staying with friends and then a hotel, she had to sleep in her play yard. She seemed to like having more space; in the bassinet, she was consistently getting herself wedged into funny positions, most recently with her body turned perpendicular to how we laid her down, her legs up on the side wall of the tiny crib. In the play yard, she had more freedom to move and I swear that girl was facing a different direction every time I woke up and checked on her. She was spinning — albeit, slowly — in circles! So when we got home Greg and I decided to swap her bassinet for the play yard that really hadn’t seen much use until now. I have a heck of a time getting in and out of bed but this mama is not quite ready to let her baby sleep in her own crib in her own room. I'm holding on to this stage of having her right next to me just a little bit longer.

FIVE

Today, Greg and I’s sweet baby girl, our lady bird, my honey bear, the magnificent drool nugget (that’s a new one), is five months old! Delilah Wren goes by many monikers (the least of which being her actual name), but what we really should call her is JOY, for she truly is the joy of our lives. Her sweet smile is a little ray of sunshine in our days. Hearing her laugh makes our already overflowing hearts burst, they're so full of happiness at the sound. Watching her learn and grow and achieve — well, it's just the best thing ever. She's changing so much every day and the way these past five months have just ticked on by so quickly has my anxious mama heart beating fast (don’t blink, you’ll miss something!) and my head in a state of disbelief. Has five months gone by already? I find myself wanting to freeze time, to hold onto those extra tender moments and sleepy snuggles just a bit longer, since I know they won’t last forever. And yet, time must continue on because I can't wait to see what she'll accomplish next… and who she will become.

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Since Delilah doesn’t have a 5-month check-up with her pediatrician, we don’t have the “official” stats. But we do know she is clocking in at over 13 pounds now and this string bean has definitely been growing lengthwise too, since her 0-3 month footed pajamas are a little too short. We’re about to transition into her 3-6 month sleeper options to avoid scrunched toes, but since it is always bittersweet to pack baby clothes away I try to put off the task of updating her wardrobe as long as possible!

On the activity front, here's a round-up of a few of Delilah’s favorite things this month (in addition to all of the faves from last month):

• saying “hello” to “her” plants hanging in the stairway (she tends to greet the leaves by grabbing on and tugging hard, uh oh!) and also looking out the nearby window to say “hello, WORLD!” :) 
• chewing everything, but especially her Baby Banana (she finally decided she likes it, and is more open to trying some of the many other teethers we have purchased, likely because her gums are really bothering her, poor baby)
• making the light-up star toy in her play gym go "twinkle, twinkle"
• squealing with delight when touching and subsequently pulling Daddy’s hair, including stroking his hairy arm during diaper changes! (she’s so fascinated, probably because Mama’s arms are smooth, haha)
• touching/squeezing/slapping Mama’s face (much to my chagrin)
• watching us eat (and trying to grab Mama’s glass when she’s drinking, eek!); she was endlessly amused when I ate a sandwich and showed her each time I took a bite
• Puppy Dog Pals: I try to limit TV but she does seem to enjoy Bingo and Rolly’s antics! “We’re going on a mission, going on a mission!”
• giving her real-life pups treats (this is something I tried just this week, and Delilah did well holding the treat and the dogs, especially patient Cali, did well to carefully take it from her hand)
• rolling (roly-roly-poly, as we call it) with assistance into tummy time and tolerating it much better than before! (we’re on the cusp of actual enjoyment folks, and one time she even rolled out of it herself, apparently on purpose since she didn’t get upset by the swift change in perspective)
• getting serenaded by Mommy or Daddy (she likes it so much that Mama singing “Amazing Grace” no longer seems to work as a means to get her to sleep at night... it just makes her smile)

The Day a Miracle was Made

A year ago today, we had our egg retrieval. It was a day that was highly anticipated and then quickly became one of the worst days in our infertility journey. They only got four eggs, and we were heartbroken. The outlook seemed bleak. The odds weren't in our favor.  After 11 days of injections, I felt my hopefulness slipping away. The sadness was suffocating. But then, just as it always does, the dark, hard night awoke to the light of a new day that brought incredible news: All four eggs fertilized! Hallelujah! Now, today, looking back at Feb. 24, 2017, I don't just remember a day that threatened to crush my spirit. To steal my strength. I celebrate a day that tested and grew my faith. I celebrate a day that a miracle happened, during (and in spite of) those hours that my belief wavered. Because today isn't the anniversary of "egg retrieval day." It's conception day. Few people know exactly when their babies were conceived but, thanks to IVF, we do. It was a little after noon on Feb. 24, in a high tech embryology lab in San Ramon. And I believe without question that God's hand was in the mix, creating our little miracle, knitting her together from each part of us and preparing her for my womb. The crazy thing is, if our two "snowflakes" — our frozen embryos, our precious embabies — one day also become tiny humans, they will share the same conception date. Isn't science amazing? So yes, Feb. 24 was more than just the day they retrieved my eggs. It was so much more than I even realized at the time. On a most fundamental level, it was the day that Greg and I's family began. Moreover, it was the day that God reminded me that He is bigger than my fears, He is steadfast in the face of my doubts and He is certainly not intimidated by "the odds." With him, anything is possible. Infertility can be overcome, families can be made. With an egg — and faith the size of a mustard seed.

FOUR

Delilah Wren is four months old, rocking chambray and longing for spring. (We’re wishing that lovely warm weather we had earlier this month would return!)

This lady bird weighs almost 12 lbs these days (she clocked in at 11 lbs 5 oz a week ago) and is likely measuring 23 inches since she's almost too long for her sleep sack swaddle. (We'll get official stats at her well check on Monday.) **ETA: At her Feb. 26 appointment, she weighed 12 lbs 2 oz and measured 24.8 inches long!**

A few of Delilah’s favorite things this month:

• shaking her rattle, grabbing her links, crunching her crinkle book 
• chewing her fist (hello, teething!)
• petting Jasper
• turning the pages of board books when Mama says "do you want to turn the page?”
• watching Daddy make silly faces (and sounds) 
• taking a warm bath  
• playing with Mama's hands
• grabbing Daddy's nose
• and, apparently, Olympic figure skaters (despite efforts to the contrary, she is recently obsessed with the TV, whoops!)

Delilah has been more playful and active this month, but she is also super determined and gets frustrated when she doesn't do something perfectly the first time. (Uh oh, just like mommy!) Baby girl is getting chattier, but she is often more reserved and observant — she seems to be taking it all in. She's extra smiley in the morning, she always coos and gurgles at Daddy's funny expressions, and she's been known to smile up at Mama when she's trying to sing her to sleep. And yesterday, we got some first little belly laughs! Our sweet girl is growing and learning so much every day and coming into her own. We can't wait to see what she'll do next!

Delilah's Birth Story, Part II

Missed Part I? Catch up here.
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Delilah’s birth was abrupt, to say the least. There were none of the usual get-ready-you’re-really-having-a-baby warnings like my water breaking or contractions that intensify over many, many hours. I didn’t labor, but by no means was her delivery easy! 

My doctor said that, in his 25-year career, he had never had happen what happened to me. Complications with an external cephalic version are very rare — less than a 1 percent chance! A placental abruption was not something anyone expected, but all the medical professionals who heard my story later assured me that I had been in the right place at the right time. Given how easily the placenta tore away from the uterine wall, it could have happened any time — at home, probably— and the outcome would have been very different. Fortunately I was in a hospital (the one of my choosing, no less), with an IV and an epidural already on board.

I knew the risks associated with a version, but I also knew they were unlikely and I had total confidence in my doctor. So while it crossed my mind to go ahead and pack the hospital bag, I didn’t. Greg and I truly didn’t think we would need it! I can now attest that you really don’t need to bring anything with you to the hospital. There are certainly things that are nice to have, but you can get by without much! For a week I had nothing more than the clothes I came in. I didn’t get to use the special (and expensive) hospital gown I ordered… I didn’t even have the luxury of my own socks. I donned hospital-issued apparel. When Greg was finally able to go home after Delilah was born (around midnight), he said he would try to rustle up all the items on my “hospital bag” packing list. But I told him not to bother. I just needed him to go and come back as quickly as possible. I told him to just grab my contact lens case and solution, my glasses, and a few toiletries so I’d have a clean face and fresh breath. All that mattered was our sweet baby girl, and us both being there for her.

The hours and days following Delilah’s birth were a whirlwind. We didn’t get a free moment to call our parents to tell them the news until about four hours after she was born! 

Immediately following her arrival, I wasn’t able to hold Delilah right away, not just because I was on an operating table and being sewn up but because I was shaking uncontrollably. Something about the medication they had given me for the version, coupled with the actual c-section, caused my arms to shake vigorously and my teeth to chatter as though I was freezing cold — even though I wasn’t. When the nurse brought Delilah over to me, and when Greg held her next to me, I longed to hold my baby in my arms but I was afraid I would drop her I was shaking that badly. I asked the medical team around me, when will I stop shaking? They apologetically replied that my body would calm eventually. The feeling slowly faded over the next hour or so… because I was still trembling in recovery.

The three of us in recovery, an hour and a half after Delilah made her grand debut via emergency c-section Oct. 23, 2017.

That’s when I finally got to hold my girl skin-to-skin, and we had some lovely bonding time just the three of us: Mommy, Daddy, and (at that time) yet-to-be named baby girl. But this bliss was cut short when the nurse tested Delilah’s blood sugar levels. They were dangerously low; they needed to give my hour-old baby a bottle of formula. I was heartbroken and couldn’t watch as the nurse fed her. I turned away from the sight, tears streaming down my cheeks. After some time had passed, the nurse tested her blood sugar again and it was still too low. Delilah had to go to the NICU for an IV. I was still a bloody mess; I had to stay in recovery. I told Greg to go with our daughter, so she wouldn’t be left alone. While Daddy endured watching the NICU nurse poke his daughter’s tiny hand countless times, trying to find a vein, a still numb-from-the-waist-down Mommy got a long and thorough sponge bath from two kind recovery nurses who were taken aback by the sheer volume of blood.

Skin-to-skin with Delilah in the NICU. See that tiny IV?

After getting cleaned up, I was wheeled on a gurney from recovery to the NICU and reunited with Greg and Delilah. It was then, several hours after her birth, that I was finally able to try breastfeeding — while also trying to avoid pulling on the IV and monitor wires attached to my baby. When I first saw Delilah laying in the clear NICU bassinet, surrounded by monitors, a heat lamp overhead, I told Greg to take a photo. He asked, did I really want a picture of her like this? Yes. It’s her story.

Delilah hooked up to monitors in the NICU the night she was born.

Delilah’s stint in the NICU was expected to be short — she was deemed to be rather healthy aside from the low blood sugar — but over the next few days it seemed that new problems kept cropping up that prolonged her stay. First, she had some reflux issues and, because of her prematurity, she couldn’t clear her airway of the fluid, causing her to “desat" a few times. In layman’s terms, she couldn’t breathe, her blood oxygen level was dropping (desaturating) and a NICU nurse had to rush in to clear her airway for her so she could breathe again. Fortunately, we were never there to witness this frightening occurrence. But just knowing about the incidents left Greg and I terrified for weeks even after coming home that she would “desat” in her sleep.

Another complication was that Delilah was jaundiced, which is why she looks a little yellow in all of her early photos. Her bilirubin levels were on the cusp of needing phototherapy treatment. Poor baby had to endure several blood draws over the course of several days to monitor the situation, but after one good poop to literally get the bilirubin out of her system that problem was taken off the watch list.

Yellow, jaundiced baby.

While Delilah’s blood sugar eventually stabilized and her IV was removed two days after birth, another problem emerged: she was losing weight. It’s normal for babies to drop as much as 10 percent of their weight after birth, but Delilah had lost 13 percent, going from 5 pounds 9 ounces to 4 pounds 12 ounces. The neonatologist recommended a strict formula feeding schedule (with limited breastfeeding time) to get weight on her quick.

IV removed, but Delilah looked skeletal.

Pinpricks from placing her IV.

Greg feeds Delilah a 2-ounce bottle of formula. 

During our baby’s stay in the NICU, Greg and I felt a little like zombies as we walked the hospital halls back and forth between our room in the Mother Baby area and the NICU. We made the trek every three hours so that I could try to breastfeed Delilah, and strangely we never saw any other parents making the trip. It seems all the other new parents in the Mother Baby wing had their little ones in their room, not the NICU.

Fortunately, I was healing from my c-section rather well. Delilah was born at 6 in the evening on Oct. 23 and I was able to move from the gurney to a wheelchair early the next morning. Gratefully — and surprisingly — I wasn’t having much if any pain, though the nurses encouraged me to keep accepting the pain meds. I used the wheelchair for about a day but after enough successful trips from hospital bed to bathroom and back again I decided to give walking to the NICU a go. All the nurses were shocked by how quickly I was recovering; one called me a “rock star.” I sure didn’t feel like it (or look it!). All I cared about was getting to my baby.

When we weren’t in the NICU, we tried to rest. But the days felt like a constant barrage of visits from doctors and nurses. We were definitely suffering from information overload, and we scarcely had any alone time with our new little babe. Everyone kept asking what her name was but we hadn’t had an opportunity to really sit down, marvel at our daughter and finalize the decision. There were two frontrunners before birth but I wanted to make sure it felt right. I wanted to see her, hold her, get to know her, and yet the stress of her delivery had put an unexpected cloud over the whole experience. Finally, on October 25, while Greg and I had some precious quiet time with our daughter, and I breastfed her, we came to a decision. We both agreed that we had always felt she was Delilah. Delilah Wren Thilgen.

Skin-to-skin after a breastfeeding session in the NICU on Oct. 25, with our freshly-minted Delilah Wren.

I wrote our daughter's name on the message board in our room (and in the NICU, too).

Though Delilah dealt with many issues in her first days on earth, the main issue keeping her in the NICU was the reflux/desatting incidents. And honestly, we were afraid to have her released from the watchful eyes (and monitors!) of the NICU too early if she was going to continue to not be able to clear her airway. We had already gotten used to, and comforted by, those monitors that showed her heart rate and blood oxygen levels. So when the doctors decided to keep her another night in the NICU we were slightly relieved. But we were also worried, because we didn’t know how long she’d have to stay if she kept desatting.

But on Thursday, Oct. 26, Delilah finally got the green light to bust out of the NICU. Although they told us she was going to be released, we were surprised by how quickly it happened. So when the NICU nurse suddenly wheeled a bassinet into our room, I cried the happiest tears. Greg and I embraced; our girl was finally with us.

Out of the NICU and in mama's arms, the morning of Oct. 26.

Finally, on Friday, four days after Delilah’s birth, a technician came in to perform her hearing scan. I kept wondering when the hospital would do this routine newborn test. (I assume they wanted to wait until she was out of the NICU.) Greg and I were optimistic; we had witnessed her respond to loud noises several times already. But we were nervous, too. Maybe she had some hearing loss after all? I held my breath as I watched the nurse conduct the test. Greg and I sat close on the hospital bed, looking on in silence. My parents and brother also happened to be in the room at the time. We all were quiet, waiting. The tension was palpable. Then came the results: she passed! Such sweet relief. 

With my incision healing nicely, I was technically discharged from the hospital on Friday, but I was permitted to continue to stay in our room since Delilah was still a patient. The next day, Oct. 28, with Delilah’s weight going up and her jaundice continuing to subside, she also received her discharge papers — we were allowed to go home. 

Swaddled to perfection by hospital nurses, on the morning of her release.

Dressed in a newborn-sized footed pajama (sleeves rolled way up!), ready to leave the hospital. 

Our little bird was just a tiny thing at 5 pounds even. The going-home outfit I had planned to dress her in was size 0-3 months — much too big. The smallest outfit I had for baby was a gifted newborn-sized pajama (the only one I had!) that my best friend brought to the hospital from our house, and even still Delilah was swimming in it! Thankfully our infant carrier was designed to fit preemies, and the hospital even performed a test to make sure Delilah could ride safely in it. And yet Greg and I still fretted over whether or not we strapped her into the seat correctly. That 30-minute drive from the hospital in Walnut Creek to our house in Alameda felt like the longest car ride ever, and I spent the entire time hunched over the car seat stressed, eyes fixed on my little miracle, making sure she was breathing.

Motherhood and worrying go hand in hand.

I detest this photo of myself BUT this is what you look like after six days in the hospital. When you're going home with your sweet baby, you slap a smile on your bare, haggard face and capture the moment.

In the car, on her way home to Alameda...

We arrived home around 5 p.m. and, I imagine like most first-time parents home from the hospital, we were feeling overjoyed, anxious, wholly unprepared and exhausted. I didn’t sleep a wink that night as I stood vigil over my baby girl, jumping at every noise that came from her bassinet and periodically staring at her to watch her chest rise and fall. Each movement brought a sense of reassurance — she is stronger than she looks. And that first long, sleepless night at home served as a reminder — I am stronger than I think. We are stronger than we think. Together, Greg and I will do anything for our sweet Delilah Wren. 

Conceiving, carrying and delivering our baby girl was a difficult yet amazing journey that tested and strengthened our marriage, our faith. But it is true what they say: this is the greatest adventure of our lives. It began Oct. 23. Any hardship, any sadness, we experienced in bringing our baby into the world and getting her home is all wiped away with this simple truth: parenting and loving Delilah is the very. best. thing.

Tuckered out on her first night home, Oct. 28.