So, where was I?

Back to our son's story! So, no, he wasn't twins. We found out rather quickly what a poor historian the birthmom was. Her dates were ever-changing, and her appointments were never at the same clinic, so her file was always lagging behind. It never quite caught up to her until the birth. But much more drama occurred before then, so hang on!

The "due date" was May 8th or so. We were soooo excited. We were planning to be at the birth, so as the due date passed, we became more and more anxious. Finally she was a week ovedue, and our agency liasion called to say she would be going for an induction on Monday. Great! Plenty of time to make travel arrangements and get work coverage. We flew to FL on Saturday afternoon, and called the agency when we got there. First bad news . . . bmom missed her last clinic visit two days before, and has not returned any calls from the agency or bmom counselor since. She was basically MIA. There we were in a rotten hotel room in FL with no plan and an empty car seat. Fun, fun, fun. All we could do was hope she'd turn up. We decided to head to the beach and find a hotel on the water. It was our anniversary weekend, and we needed to salvage something. As if we could.

Somewhere around Monday evening, she turned up and we were told that the agency director would pick her up personally on Tuesday morning and drive her to the hospital. We were back to being thrilled! We drove up to the hospital on Tuesday aftenroon to meet our son's birthmother for the first time. Unfortunately, we are immediately hit with the second bad news. From ultrasound, the baby is estimated at weighing only 3 pounds! Now, at 41 weeks, this is nowhere near a good thing. In fact, its a really bad thing. IUGR and all that. My husband almost fainted at the thought of it all. I have to admit, so did I.

So we waited and waited for a plan. She was hooked up to the monitor and was having regular, mild contractions. We were so naive, we thought this baby was coming. After more waiting, and getting her records from everywhere and nowhere, it was determined that her due date may be off, and she may only be 30-32 weeks. Oh fuck. The doctors urged her to do an amnio, to determine if the lungs were mature. If they were, they would deliver. If not, we'd know it was too early. She refuses the amnio.

FUCK! Well, my craziness kicks in and after much discussion and perhaps a little begging, she finally agrees. This is probably the best memory of the entire nightmare weekend . . . I get to witness the amnio. I have the ultraound pic of his feet that look like footprints, and as we were watching the screen, he waved at us! The bmon saw it too and said he was waving at me. It was a precious moment. Another great moment was when the doctor was explaining things to her, she stopped him and said "talk to her too. She is the mother of this baby". WOW.

More waiting for the stat amnio results, which was hours. At least I got to spend time with M* (the bmom) and do a little bonding. Michael was fighting the urge to vomit in the waiting room all that time. We had an interesting bonding session, learning that she smoked Marlboro Reds (the pack was on the floor, and she even went outside for a cigarette once) when she had said she didn't smoke in our early conversations, and on her agency profile. That sort of sent my head reeling . . . if this baby was 3 pounds at term, that is some serious effects of smoking while pregnant. The rest of our conversation is hazy at best, but I did learn that her penchant for Mountain Dew was as strong as she claimed on the phone those many months before (great, super-high caffeinated soda!). I went to sit with Michael. I about had enough.

The amnio results came back sometime after midnight, and it indicated she was 31 weeks. Lovely. We left, and crashed at the hotel, and yes . . . we had our empty carseat with us.