Today Tate is one week old. He came early just like everyone thought, but rather than 25 weeks, he hung out until 39 weeks and 5 days. 2 days rather than 15 weeks. No one could have hoped for a better outcome.
Much like the rest of the pregnancy, labor and delivery went nothing like we'd planned. My labor didn't progress normally... it was crazy fast (which isn't all that shocking considering we'd spent months trying to slow it down). Tate did ok until the end, but then he decided we all needed one more good scare. His heart rate dropped for several minutes, and everyone quickly moved into emergency mode. My doctor was called back from her office. The nurses (including one of my favorites from before who had just stopped by to visit on her way home) raced to get everything ready and called in specialists in case Tate continued to have trouble. It became apparent that time was up: Tate was going to be born right away, one way or another. Luckily, he cooperated, and we didn't have to be rushed into an emergency c-section. A little over 4 hours after getting to the hospital, baby Tate was crying in my arms, and two days later he was discharged with me.
Back on August 4th, the sweet nurse who took care of me that first night told me we were going to make it through this part and Tate would come home with me instead of going to the NICU and then all the hard stuff would be worth it. At the time I doubted her. I didn't believe Tate would ever make it to term, and even if he did, I wasn't sure how I'd feel by the time my miserable pregnancy was over... but she was right. Between the constant nausea, extended hospital stay, and complications at the end, pregnancy was probably the hardest thing I've ever done, but sitting here trying to type with Tate resting on my chest, I have no doubt it was all worth it. Our son is safe and healthy and absolutely perfect, and unless we tell them, no one will ever know what we went through trying to get him here.
After months of sickness and fear, the hard part is over. Yes, we're now sleep deprived and have less freedom to do whatever we want as we've been warned for months, but our Tate is here. After years of hoping and praying for a child we weren't sure would ever come, we will celebrate this Thanksgiving with our brand new, healthy baby boy.