Torn.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about the eight babies that were recently born. After reading Lisa Belkin’s (love this blog – thanks Ellen!) blog post and some of the comments I’m reminded that everyone is an expert and has a definitive opinion. After A’s premature birth, B and I didn’t take having another baby lightly. We thought long and hard about the decision, prayed, and met with doctors to determine what chance we had for a successful, full-term pregnancy. We were fortunate that A was born at 34 weeks instead of much earlier. We are fortunate that she experiences almost no long term effects from being premature. But, in reality, things could have turned out much differently.
After meeting with my doctor and having what seemed like all of my blood taken, I learned that there was basically a 50% chance of having preeclampsia and HELLP again. And since doctors are not sure what causes the preeclampsia, they are not sure how to prevent it. I’m not a gambling person but 50% seemed to muddy the waters and make the decision to have another baby all the more harder. Before I was pregnant I would stress about being on bedrest with a toddler and/or trying to balance the NICU stay with another child at home. At times, it seemed absolutely daunting (what if I had a micro-preemie?) and other times, I would let myself hope that all would be fine and I’d come home with a healthy, full-term baby.
Yet, when I actually found out that I was pregnant, all seemed less confusing. It was as if I subconsciously knew that I, ultimately, was not in control and had to put on my game face. Of course it is easy to look back at this now, knowing that I have a beautiful, chunky (compliment!), healthy baby upstairs sleeping.
When we told people that we were having another baby we were usually met with guarded excitement. I remember commenting to someone that I was either brave or stupid – we wouldn’t know until July. In my heart of hearts I wanted to be brave, willed myself to be brave, left no option other than bravery. And as each week passed we breathed easier.
In the end I had an awesome pregnancy with K. He arrived just ten days prior to his due date. He’s perfect.I won the gamble, I got the better 50%. But, seriously, what would have happened if I got the 50% with the high bp, puffy feet, NICU stay, medical bills, etc? I’m sure people would have looked at me saying, ’she should have known better’.
And perhaps bravery is just stupidity covered in love.
the difference for me between what happened there and what happened with us is that the worse case scenario for us was that we would have a premature baby. her worst case scenario was that all of the fertilized eggs that were implanted would feel comfortable in her uterus and continue to grow to the point that she has eight premature babies and may very well need to depend on the taxpayers to raise them (i love run on sentences). but i don’t have time to edit this because our perfect chunk is screaming bloody murder right now.
I totally agree that actually implanting all of the fertilized eggs was not a good idea. It is just that when I started to really be critical of her decision I thought of what reaction we would have received had we delivered another preemie. I’m sure that had her last IVF treatment resulted in 1,2, or even 3 babies no one would have even known about her. We all take chances in life (certainly, some more risky or ill advised than others).
Again, not saying I agree w/ the decision…just made me think.