One year as a mama, one year with a son, one year of ups, downs, changes, and so many things that will never be the same.

For those who don’t know the story, let me first tell you about how (and where) Wyatt came into this world.

My husband TJ and I went down to Fort Myers, Florida for our baby shower hosted by his parents when I was 33 weeks pregnant. TJ was especially looking forward to this trip because he lived there for 9 years and many of his friends still lived there. We had a lovely baby shower with friends and family on that Saturday, and late Monday night I started having what I thought were contractions. Thankfully they went away after about an hour and a half and I went to sleep.

The following late afternoon I started having contractions again and they weren’t letting up. I started tracking them and they were about 1 minute long every 5 minutes. In the midst of this, we went out to dinner with TJ’s parents and visited friends at their house afterwards. I was on the phone with the on call doctor at my OB office 3 times because I was getting concerned. Unfortunately there wasn’t a whole lot they could do for me 600 miles away but they thought it was probably prodromal labor — “false labor”. At 2am I still hadn’t fallen asleep because I was in pain and thought, this isn’t right. I woke TJ up to take me to the hospital.

At the hospital they monitored me for a couple hours but TJ couldn’t come in and be with me (COVID) so he stayed in the car. That was a little stressful and scary in itself. They gave me some drugs to try to stop the contractions and a steroid shot to help develop the baby’s lungs faster should I deliver early. They sent me home and told me to take it easy. The contractions did let up for a little bit but started coming back again the following afternoon. I was starting to freak out and think about if we needed to rush home but TJ had been looking forward to this trip to see his friends so I was trying to stick it out.

I went to sleep around 9:30pm and was pleasantly surprised that laying down seemed to help and I didn’t have any more contractions. Until I woke up at midnight, thinking I had peed myself and realized my water broke.

“Well, we’re having a baby in Florida”, I said to TJ, and off we went to Health Park hospital to have our baby.

They tried once again to give me magnesium to slow the labor and keep the baby in a few more days because at that gestational age, every day counts to allow the baby grow and develop more. Unfortunately Wyatt just wanted to come out, so after a long awaited epidural (I was pretty dang close to 10cm when I finally got it), I started pushing.

It started to get a little more exciting (albeit still very scary), because we didn’t know the baby’s gender and of course we had been eagerly waiting to find out if it’s a boy or a girl! All through my pregnancy people asked me if I had any feeling about what the gender was and I never did. But it’s so strange because in those crazy 48ish hours before Wyatt was born, I started having a feeling it was a boy.

After about two hours of pushing, the hospitalist (OB in the hospital that delivers babies) tried several times to talk me into a C section, but I stuck to my guns because it didn’t seem necessary. My nurse was so sweet and and completely supported me and stood up to the doctor for me a couple times too. The doctor had said “there’s no reason you need to tire yourself out or the baby”. I told him, I’m fine. I can’t even feel anything! I can go as long as I need to, and the baby’s heart rate is fine too. Obviously if the baby started to seem in distress it would have been a different story but that wasn’t the case. So after 4.5 hours of pushing, he was finally here.

He came out crying which I was very thankful for. I think all moms are. TJ cut the umbilical cord and announced “it’s a boy!”

I was only able to hold him for a second for a quick photo because his lungs were underdeveloped and he wasn’t able to breathe on his own so they had to get him to the NICU ASAP. I look back on that and feel very sad about not getting the experience most moms do. I don’t like this photo (the only one we got) because not only do I wonder why I didn’t insist on getting TJ in the photo, but I will only show it in B&W because Wyatt’s color is not good and that breaks my heart into a million pieces.

I look back and so much of it is a blur after he was born, almost like a black out. I wonder how I acted after they whisked him away. Was I upset? Was I worried? I mean, surely I was, but I can’t remember and that makes me sad. Shouldn’t I have been distraught? Maybe I was. All I can remember is how hungry I was because I hadn’t eaten in 20 hours.

I honestly think I was in a bit of shock, but not in the “I just became a mom” kind of way. I wonder if it’s like this for all moms, or will I be able to remember more next time?

I remember getting wheeled up to the NICU after a couple hours and being terrified and not really feeling like Wyatt was my baby. He felt like the hospital’s baby. I had no idea what was best for him— they did. I was afraid to touch him or even to ask questions because I almost didn’t want to know. He was so tiny in there, struggling to breathe even with all the tubes and wires. Gosh, it makes me so sad to look at these photos so I’ll spare us all and only share one.

I absolutely loved him, though. I couldn’t believe he was here and I couldn’t believe I had a son! Wyatt means “little warrior” and little did we know when it picked it months prior that it would be the perfect name for our baby boy.

I also knew this was the beginning of a long road. But how long? When you naively ask the NICU nurses “How long will he be in here?” They tell you “Keep in mind he wasn’t suppose to be here until his due date!” (August 8). So they set up your expectations that he will there until the full 40 week gestation, which makes perfect sense of course.

Stay tuned for next week to hear about his stay in the NICU and my stay in Fort Myers, and how long it was for . . .