The Birth of My Cousin Bryan... at 23 weeks

      I have not had any children of my own, and although I have known many people who have, one experience sticks out in my head the most. Even though I was much younger at the time, I remember it very clearly and knowing what I know now, I cannot imagine a parent having to live through this.
   

My aunt found out she was pregnant in December. She started spotting

shortly thereafter. She was diagnosed with partial placenta previa. 

She was told that it could correct itself, which it did. 

She still continued to experience spotting. Her doctor would put her

on bedrest periodically: she would have to stay home from work

(she worked at a hospital) for a week, but then she 

would be allowed to go back.

One day in May, at 20 weeks, she was at work, and when she went to 

the bathroom, she was bleeding. She went right to

the labor and delivery unit where they examined her and saw

her baby's head coming through the birth canal, but her 

water had not broken yet. He was coming out.

My aunt went right into surgery. They performed a procedure

that none of the doctors had performed at the time and was very risky. 

They gave my aunt an epidural, and slowly inserted a balloon,

while slowly inflating it, to push the baby back into her. If the 

balloon pushed too hard, and broke her water, he would come out. 

The doctors sutured her up, and had her lay and hope that he

would stay inside longer.

On May 26th, at about 23 weeks, my aunt said she had

felt contractions all night, but was afraid to tell anyone. When nurses came

in to check on her, the sheets were drenched in blood. The baby was coming

out and the sutures were breaking. The doctor came in, said they were going

to cut the sutures, and that when they did, he was going to come right out.

They cut, and nothing happened. They handed my aunt and 

uncle funeral pamphlets, how to bury your baby, what to do next.

They were told he would live a few minutes, if at all, that all

they could do would be to wait for him to die. My aunt and uncle talked,

and my uncle made up his mind that this was not going to happen. 

The hospital staff called areas hospitals, all of which said to abort the baby,

let the baby come out and see what happens, but yet he still

wasn't coming.

A hospital literally next door said they would send an ambulance over,

it took 45 minutes. The doctors told my aunt to hold her legs 

together as tight as she could, that's all they could do.

After "flying" to the other hospital (where they didn't realize it

was an emergency situation, they thought it was just a transfer), 

they took her to labor and delivery, did an episiotomy, and he

came right out, at 1 pound, 10.8 ounces. He went down

to 1 pound, 3 ounces, later that day.

He was due September 15th, born May 27th, at almost 24 weeks.

His skin was transparent, his eyes were closed, his ears were little nubs,

they infused surfactant into him, he was on oxygen, he lived in the 

NICU for 5 months.

But... he was completely formed, they performed 2 sonograms of his brain

every day and there was never anything wrong. There were some scarier

days than others in the NICU, but now......

(he's the one on the left)

he's a 20 year old football player, in his sophomore year of college. 

I chose this experience because it stuck with me, everything about it: his birth, my aunt's and uncle's amazing relationship that endured such a hardship, and that how when I look at him now, I forget what his first few months of life were like. I remember being so scared, of everyone being so tense, and being afraid to ask too many questions. I was afraid to even look at him. After our readings this week, I cannot believe there is not one thing wrong with him, let alone the fact that he survived. Yet it still makes me think of how others take advantage of their children's healthy development, or the carelessness of others while they are pregnant. It turns out my aunt had an incompetent cervix, her cervix was too weak to hold the baby. I don't know much about it, but my other aunt had a milder form of it, so I suppose it was something (or is something) in our genes. But my mom had 9 pound babies that were born past their due dates. It just makes me think about how every person is different, every pregnancy is different, and a combination of so many things can effect the development of a baby.