Full Circle

When Tate was born, there were many people I wanted him to meet, but the nurses from the 7th floor were way at the top of the list. More than anyone except Kevin, they were a part of my pregnancy. Every day for 62 days they listened to Tate's little heart beat and watched our strip on the monitors, diligently looking for any problem. They watched him kick and saw my belly finally getting big, and as the weeks passed, they grew more and more invested in my son. The night before I was discharged two different nurses teared up saying goodbye because they didn't believe I'd bring Tate back to meet them. I knew they were worrying for no reason and promised we'd be back, and this week I was delighted to be able to follow through on our promise.

Watching those ladies glow as they cuddled with my baby boy has been one of the highlights of Tate's short life. While they fought over who'd gotten to hold him the longest, we chatted, and I realized for the first time that they aren't just being modest when they refuse to admit they had any part in Tate's healthy birth. They genuinely believe that's true. They see the part that I played, which was admittedly the defining role, but they don't see how much impact they had on my ability to do what had to be done. It wasn't just bringing me pills or filling my water jug a million times a day. They took the time to really get to know me and talk through my fears, both about the pregnancy and about eventually being Tate's mom. They didn't have to let me into their lives by sharing their own heartbreaking and difficult pregnancy stories or their own fears about motherhood, but time and time again, that's exactly what they did. Tons of other people played a part in my surviving those two long months, but day in and day out it was those nurses who encouraged me to keep going and convinced me I was even capable of doing it.

I doubt I'll ever be able to convince them of just how big a role they had in Tate's safe arrival, and they'll probably never really grasp just how much we love them... but we'll keep visiting. Tate will know that he's a miracle, and he'll also know that these women were a huge part of making that happen.

Tate and Caryl

Thanksgiving

Ten days ago, we met Tate. These days have flown as I’m told they will continue to do. Here we are at the end of the first holiday with him as part of our family. We could have gone to see family an hour or so away, but we ended up staying at home. We sat around holding out little boy. We took a quick trip up to the hospital to visit the nurses who kept A and Tate safe for so long. We had a sad little Thanksgiving dinner prepared by yours truly. Chicken, rather than turkey, some mashed potatoes, green beans, and store bought cherry pie. Tate interrupted the eating with a little bit of screaming, but he calmed quickly after getting to join us at the table. It was a truly great Thanksgiving Day. Our list of things to be thankful for is extra-long this year.

The people that were part of Tate’s safe arrival still stick with me more than anything. There are more than I could list, and I still haven't been able to come close to thanking for their kindness and sacrifice. I won’t forget what our families did. I won’t forget the Sawyer’s taking a part of so many of their days to take care of Mags, and Blake’s willingness to give up his own comfort to bring us the saddest news of the stay. I won’t forget Suzanne’s presence in the hardest times. I won’t forget those nurses. The long hospital days are fading away quickly now that Tate is in our arms, but those days changed me more than I even know yet.

The End

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.

A New View

This morning, we were on the old familiar drive down 75 to Forest Lane. Instead of turning into the Entrance A, we drove all the way around to Entrance D. Instead of it being me by myself, I had A riding/reclining shotgun. She was in a lot of pain. Contractions started early this morning and didn’t let up. After almost 40 weeks of waiting, 9 of which were spent here at the hospital; at 10:25 this morning, November 14, 2011, we met our little boy, Noah Thomas Berkline, better known as Tate. He weighs in at 8 lbs. 1 oz and is 20 ¾ inches long. He has a little bit of blondish hair. He has a cry that will be keeping us up many nights, and a lip quiver that will no doubt make us laugh.

So now, here we are. Another day, another huge change. We are in the room directly above the room Adrian spent 9 long weeks in. The view through the window is just about the same. The pull out couch is just as uncomfortable. Society Bakery is still in the atrium selling cupcakes (of which we have already partaken today). Everything is pretty much the same, except when I look in front of me. Now I see my wife holding the boy we, along with all of you, hoped and prayed would make his entrance into this world just as he did. He made it to full term. According to the pediatrician, he couldn’t be healthier.

We are extremely blessed.

Time Flies

In the span of Tate’s life thus far, everything has been a rollercoaster. First off, there was the elation of finding out that he was coming in the first place. We were there at the top of the big first hill of the rest of our lives. From there, the reality what that would mean set in. We had our last hurrah trip to Europe that started in Paris and ended in nausea. The ups and downs of the next few months were slow. Tate’s presence was felt only through the slow acquisition of baby items and that constant nausea. We flew through those months.

Back on the day this blog started, we had worked out way through t to the top of the biggest hill we had ever seen. Back then, it felt like the track was ending, and we’d be flying off the edge. Looking back, we are blessed to be able to say that we stayed on the track. The ride seemed long at the time and had some scary twists and turns, but we made it. We had help and prayers from tons of amazing people. Now it already seems like that was all forever ago.

These past four weeks have been remarkably normal. A was still on bedrest those first two weeks, so that meant she got to be wowed by my incredibly advanced cooking skills, and we found what we could to keep her comfortable. I came home every day to make lunch and fill up the same old insulated mug she used at the hospital. We finally bought a piece of patio furniture to give her a comfy place to sit for some outside time. We relocated the couch for optimal left side tv viewing. We kept a steady supply of Sonic ice around. We bought a slingbox (which we probably should have bought while she was actually in the hospital). All of this was to keep the number of steps as low as humanly possible.

These last two weeks have seen A up and about quite a bit more. She’s getting her legs back under her, which has also been a huge blessing. We still haven’t made it further than 10 miles from the house (a situation that in the past has tended to make me stir crazy), but it’s been nice to get to have these last few weeks of just us. It’s sort of been like old times. Saturday’s spent trying to find the best something in Dallas (This week it was fried chicken, and we just ended up a Babe’s again). A nice weekend nap here and there. More than one trip to get ice cream.

Now it is all just another waiting game. It’s a different kind of patience now. This time it is for our little boy to be here. After months of worrying about him coming too early, now we get to think about what it will be like to finally meet him and to finally hold him. There was a time in the not too distant past when that was scary to me. After these months of worrying about all of the things that could have gone awry, it’s great to be sitting here able to say that I’m ready for the next set of challenges.

Almost There

Today Tate is officially full term. After all the weeks of restrictions and medications and fear, I get to spend this day cuddling with Maggie and waiting on Tate, not at Medical City. It's going much better than we originally imagined.

The past two weeks have been relatively uneventful, hence the lack of posts. I'm allowed to move around more, but my muscles atrophied so much during the eleven weeks of bed rest that I can't do much without getting sore and tired. Every day is a little easier, but my doctors say it will be months before I totally recover. I still see my primary doctor weekly, but now my appointments are like every other pregnant woman's appointments... not that much happens. Life is pretty boring for the first time in months.

And so, now we wait. Tate could be here any day, or it might be several more weeks. Either way we're almost there.

Normal Again

Today I made my first trip back to Medical City.

It was incredibly weird being back on the other side, walking in to a regular appointment like all the normal pregnant women. For the last two months, any time I was outside of the Antepartum Unit it was blatantly obvious that I was one of the "sick" people. I rode in a wheelchair. I wore hospital bracelets and pajamas. I watched the other people walk around, but I clearly wasn't one of them. Today I was, or at least that's what anyone would have thought looking at me.

The walk from the garage to the office (which is in no way long) was by far the longest I've walked in ten weeks, so by the time we got upstairs I was exhausted and sore. The actual appointment was uneventful and lasted maybe fifteen minutes (which gave me just about enough time to recover for the walk back to the car), and then, unlike the last time I was in that office, I got to walk out! We stopped at Chick-fil-a on the way home to celebrate, and I got to eat fresh, unsoggy french fries for the first time since July. It's such a little thing, but these days things like crisp french fries are hugely exciting.

As of tomorrow Tate will be 35 weeks, and I'll be allowed to move again, at least a little. Judging by today the transition won't be easy. Three hours later I'm still completely exhausted from the brief excursion to the doctor's office, but at least I'll have time to build back a bit of stamina before Tate gets here. Hopefully he'll wait two more weeks...

Home

We're home.

I thought that if we finally got to this day I'd have lots to say, but as I've laid here all afternoon, not much has come to mind. We are obviously incredibly thankful that this day even came. When I look back at old posts and think about all the stress of the month of August, I sort of feel like a drama queen, but the fact of the matter is, I wasn't creating drama. All those risks were real. For MANY weeks, even well into September, everyone was nervously waiting for the day that the treatments would stop working and we'd be transferred back to labor and delivery, not the day I'd be discharged. It's only been in the last week or two that things really settled down and everyone started seriously discussing the possibility of going home... and now we're here.

The first day home has been relatively uneventful, spent primarily laying on the sofa while Kevin works on things without me and Maggie watches anxiously to make sure I don't leave again. Aside from location, my job hasn't changed. I'm still on strict bedrest, still taking the nasty meds to keep contractions at bay. In another week I'll be allowed a little more freedom (and already asked for permission to go get my hair cut), but anything that requires much walking or standing will still be off limits. Getting to go home was a big step, but the next few weeks will still be challenging... in some ways more than before. It wasn't so hard being compliant at the hospital most of the time, but it's much more difficult now that I'm so much closer to freedom.

At any rate, Tate is still doing great. He's growing just like he should, and the latest guess at his weight is 5 1/2 pounds. He wouldn't let the doctor get a good look at his face today, and since we're officially done with the weekly high-risk appointments, it's likely we won't get to see him again until we see him in person. Only a few more weeks to go!

A Bunch of Nurses

When Adrian arrived on the 7^th floor at Medical City, we were terrified. How would we handle Tate being premature? How would we handle her being stuck here, and me having to handle the house and work? How would we handle sonograms and monitors and blood tests? How would we handle the food? Could we both keep it together long enough to do what was best for Tate? Starting with that first night, a large portion of our question started being answered, and those answers would continue coming every day for two solid months.

Way back on August 4^th, I had to go home to take care of Mags and try to get some things in order while leaving my shy, terrified wife alone here in the hospital. She took some medicine to help her sleep, but it had the opposite effect. She was alert and alone. A patient, caring nurse whose name A didn’t remember in the morning stayed here in the room with her for a long time to keep her company and assure her that everything would be ok. Now after all this time, Tracie still comes in every night she’s here, whether she is A’s nurse or not, just to see how things are going and keep us entertained.

On the morning of A’s first sonogram here, we were again scared. We didn’t know the doctor past a quick meeting on the day she was admitted. We were worried that the sonogram might reveal after a couple of bad ones in a row. A spunky, redheaded nurse came to take A to that first sonogram. She kept the mood light with a great sense of humor. She picked on the doctor a bit, and things didn’t seem so scary. Tara gets the award for best wheelchair picker even though she lost to A in today’s day long water drinking contest.

On the first couple of weekends we were there, we were still adjusting. Those were definitely some rough days. There was no routine and nothing good on tv. A chatty, fun nurse would come and visit far more than she had to. She spent tons of time getting to know us and helping us get adjusted. I specifically remember a tough time early one Saturday night. I got back to the hospital after a quick run out, and there was a nurse sitting in a chair next to my wife’s bed, holding her hand; showing empathy that I didn’t know existed. In the last week, she has made it her mission to toughen us up and prepare us for parenthood. Mostly, Deeanna has succeeded in reminding us that you can’t make up truly caring for people.

Aside from a select few, the nights of sitting at the hospital run together. The monotony of the nights always begs for something different. TV can’t make up for some great stories. One nurse has always has some great ones to tell. Her first reminder has always been for A to take her vitamins, but after that, she always sticks around to make us laugh. We’ll always remember Patty for being a lot of fun, and we won’t forget our vitamins.

One Sunday night a couple of weeks ago, we had a bit of a scare. A was having some contractions that were more intense than any she had experienced. A nurse that is particularly calm was assigned to A that night. She hooked A and Tate up to the monitors, and assured us that no matter what was happening, they’d be ok. Even though we were terrified, she didn’t show one bit of panic. Diana was the perfect nurse for that night.

We had been there a while before A was assigned to one of the nurses. Once she was, we quickly struck up a conversation of a place near and dear to both of us, College Station. Her kids are about our age and are Aggies. She made sure we were comfortable and had everything we could possibly need. She is quite the crafty lady as well. Tate will be well decked out in the awesome striped shoes and bib she made for him. Thanks to Caryl for her craftiness and kindness.

I could go on for pages about these and the other nurses and assistants of the Antepartum unit. These words don't do them justice. They will hold a special place in our hearts for the rest of our lives. We couldn't have made it this far without all of them. They've made it possible for me to go to work in the mornings and go home at night. I have known that A is being well cared for by a group of people that aren't just good at the clinical side of their job, they care about and love my wife and son.

Statistics

I've been running around too much to keep perfect numbers, but in the last 60 days, I've:

• Slept on this lumpy, pull-out couch somewhere around 15 nights (and parts of 20 or so days)
• Called or sent an email each of the 45 nights I've gone home letting A know that I'd made it home
• Hit up the Chuy's takeout counter at least 10 times (and many other takeout counters at least once)
• Bought 9 weekly parking permits
• Watched 3 1/2 seasons of Mad Men (and probably more episodes of Say Yes to the Dress than that)
• Gone down the hall to get water and/or ice no fewer than 100 times
• Told Maggie how much A misses her every day for 60 days
• Been outside of a 10 mile radius of this hospital room 0 times.

As long as all goes as expected, I'll should be taking my wife home in two days. We've been through enough to know not to take that for granted, but we can't help but be excited. She'll still need to take it easy for at least a few weeks, but we'll be back to living in the same place. Maggie has spent the last 60 days waiting patiently for A to walk through the door She'll be so excited to have her best friend home, and I will be too.

One Week to Go!

I just told my nurse that I knew I should post something because it's Tuesday, but I've run out of ways to say the same thing every week. She laughed and said that if she was writing, she'd just say, "Ditto," and be done. I'm not sure that's a workable solution for me, but getting bored with writing the same things every Tuesday is a pretty good problem to have.

Today everything was basically the same. I've officially gotten good at accepting that the measurements don't matter that much, but it's also a lot easier now because the risks of preterm birth are smaller. We're down to the final stretch... just over a week away from the ultimate goal of 34 weeks, and all signs suggest we'll reach it. Obviously 37 would be even better, but once we get to 34 we're outside of the window for most all significant problems we could have faced had Tate been born when we originally thought.

This week life has veered slightly back towards normal. I'm allowed to sit up and move around a little more, and Kevin takes me for a wheelchair ride every afternoon which gives me a little time outside of our lovely hallway. I've spent the past two days picking out clothes for Tate since we have nowhere near enough, and last night I entertained the night nurses with glow bracelets (which they actually wore all night long!). If you take out the hospital and the wheelchair, it's been a pretty normal week... picking out baby stuff and laughing with new friends. It's still different than what I always imagined this time would be like, but I don't mind so much anymore that this will be our story. There are some pretty awesome parts that wouldn't have been there if I'd gotten my way.

Soon life will change again. Before we know it, I'll be home, and not too long after that we'll finally get to meet Tate. Life at the hospital will be a distant memory, except for when we come back to visit the women we've grown to love who've kept us safe for so long. We have so much to be thankful for and even more to look forward to... only one week to go!

32

Four weeks ago, I picked up a cookie cake at the mall. On it, was the simple, unpunctuated declaration that Tate was 28. The cookie company people probably didn't realize that 28 was in reference to weeks rather than years, and they certainly didn't realize just how exciting it was. That day was one that I will never forget. Everything else seemed far away, but that day we celebrated that Tate's brain and several other vital organs were developmentally at a point where a lot of major risks of premature birth had passed.

From that day, the milestone was 32 weeks. That would represent the point where just about everything aside from his lungs was developed. As recently as last week, we thought that today might have to be more about a tiny boy hooked up to machines fighting to grow rather than another celebration of a boy that we haven't met. I still can't quite believe it, but according to the cake (again lacking punctuation worthy of the excitement), Tate is 32 weeks old. I won't forget today either. Two out of three milestones down. We celebrated with Chuy's and that big chocolate cake complete with a rainbow.

On to another day. Like always, we have to continue a day at a time. That final milestone of 35 weeks looks and feels more possible than at any point in the last 7 weeks, but we aren't going to take anything for granted. Getting to today is just another of many in a long string of amazing blessings.

Things I'm Thankful for Today (Other than 32 weeks):

1. Tasty, cheap cakes from Costco.

2. Getting to share today's celebration with the nurses. They deserve more than just cake.

3. A quiet week (so far) of being on call at work.

A Bit of a Rainbow

As always, this morning I had my weekly sonogram. It should have been quick because the doctor did a more in-depth one last week, but I got "lucky". A new nurse and a student nurse were here to observe, and since I was the only person scheduled for today my doctor took a little more time than usual explaining everything to them. I could have done without the extra eyes, but it did mean an extra picture and more time watching Tate. I guess it was a decent trade off.

This week the news is good. Tate was great as always, and we got to watch him swallowing (which gave him the hiccups... not his favorite). He was also wide awake and wiggly as opposed to his normal early morning sleepiness which made things a little more fun. The doctor was encouraged by all of my measurements too. No one knows why, but things are actually looking visibly better. At this point, the general consensus seems to be that we're going to safely make it past 34 weeks and head home still waiting for Tate to arrive, but even if we don't, tomorrow we'll hit 32 weeks and enter the zone of relative safety. Chances are now good that our son will be born healthy. That's amazing.

Tomorrow we're going to celebrate Tate's latest milestone with lots of yummy junk food, but for now I get to keep waiting. We're getting so close...

Not his most photogenic moment, but he's certainly getting big!

My Other Boys

Many of you know that for the past two summers I've gotten to hang out with two super cool preteen boys, Max and Patrick. I met my precious Patrick at church back when he was just a bouncy kindergartner, obsessed with pizza and Spongebob, and I've been blessed to watch him grow into a fabulous fifth grader who now prefers drawing and Pokemon but still loves cheese pizza as much as always. Over the years of working with him, I also got to know his parents and his awesome big brother, so when his mom emailed me one spring asking if I knew anyone who would want to be their summer babysitter/tutor, the answer was easy: me! For two years now I've gotten to drive the boys around, attempt to make them do school work, and feed them lots of junk food, and they in turn entertained me with their witty humor and kept me from going insane from boredom during my time away from school. It has been the best job in the world.

We love the Pipers and are thankful every day for what their friendship has meant to us over the past few years, so yesterday we were heartbroken to hear that my dear friend Ann and her sweet boys had lost their husband and father, Matt. It's hard to swallow because it makes no sense and feels very unfair, especially considering some of the other trials their family has dealt with lately. This is yet another time that I wonder where God's goodness is in a hard situation, but I take comfort in knowing that somehow this is part of his good plan. He's still there. Our friends are not alone. We don't understand why this had to happen, but we know there is still hope.

Today we are thankful that our precious boy, Tate, is still safe, but we ache for Ann and her boys, who I love like my own. Today our prayers are with the Pipers, and we ask that you join us in praying for their comfort and peace in the midst of this storm.

Us

We met the very first day that we were both in College Station. She was a tall, quiet, beautiful girl from Louisiana. She was at A&M on scholarship studying Petroleum Engineering. I was a tall, shy, goofy looking guy from Southeast Texas. I was at A&M on mostly my parent’s dime studying Computer something. We didn’t talk much, though we did end up seeing a lot of each other that first year at school. It wasn’t that we set out to see each other; it was incidental contact. She became good friends with my twin sister. My sister and I shared both a car and a residence, so I had to see that beautiful girl quite often. Revisionists’ history says I was pretty mean that year. I don’t recall such things.

A year or so down the line, a boy from Laredo was in the picture for my sister. Adrian wasn’t around quite as much with Karla being so occupied, but I still saw her somewhat often. Over the span of Christmas break our junior year, we started seeing quite a bit of each other even though. Classes were out. Movies needed to be watched, and cheesecake needed to be made. Just before we both left for Christmas, it worked out that a group of people was whittled down to just the two of us. We went to see some Christmas lights and then I got to buy her some ice cream. By the time we got back from Christmas break, we stepped it up to dinner at the Cotton Patch Café and Putt-Putt. The next few years flew by. We watched lots of bad movies. She took a job in Hearne while I finished up school and moved here to Dallas. I asked her to marry me on a poorly planned April Friday a few months later, and we were married that July in a chapel less than a mile from where we first met.

Here we are now. Living in the Dallas area. Six years of marriage. Bought a house. Adopted an awesome mutt. Done a good bit of traveling. Eaten out way too much. There have been a lot of highs and lows. We’ve both changed a lot since those early days in College Station. I love my wife more than anyone in this world. She is a smart, funny, beautiful person. She is amazing with kids. She may be quiet in a room full of adults, but give her a bunch of 5 year olds, and she lights up. Her sarcastic wit makes me smile. She keeps me on my toes, and I love her so much. I’ve missed having her at home almost as much as she’s missed being home. She continues to do an amazing job with being here at the hospital. We are on the downhill side.

Thanks to her persistence to keep Tate safe and God’s grace, our family is still just me, A, and Maggie. We get to know Tate a little better every day. He has his tendencies that make us laugh. Our little boy brings us so much joy already. We continue to realize what a blessing it is to have not seen him yet. On to week 32.

Day 40

After a rather stressful half day filled with concerning new symptoms, the weekly checkup is over ahead of time!

Although we're still not clear on what has caused the newest complications, the news from this afternoon's sonogram was great all around. Tate is still measuring right on track, weighing in at a whopping 3 lb 14 oz, and surprisingly, my measurements were the best yet. Based on the past couple of days, I'd prepared myself for a bad report, and judging by his response upon looking at the sonogram, my doctor hadn't been super hopeful either... but we were both wrong. Against all odds, everything was fine.

Tonight I'm thankful for our 40th completed day. Not so many hours ago there was a very real concern that Tate might be here by now, but instead we get to keep counting tomorrow. Since everything has settled down for now and the sono looked good, there's a solid chance we may still make it to 32 weeks or beyond. I'm also grateful that for the first time in three weeks, my favorite nurse was here today when things went bad. She's still here in fact, working a 16 hour shift. I certainly couldn't do her job, but for my own sake, I'm really glad she showed up this morning!

We're only one day away from 31 weeks now, eight days away from the next big milestone of 32 weeks. After today, I'm thinking these may be the longest eight days of my life...

An Empty Room

The transformation of our guest room into Tate's room is one of the projects that is going on at our house right now without much help from me. My family finally got the shutters down and blinds up when they came. A's parent's have taken up the project from there, leading up to what you see today. The room is an empty shell, ready to become a little boy's room. Gone is the bed that I liked to nap on, the bookshelves that held all manor of crazy things but few actual books, the stacks of cds that grew on the desk in the corner, and the Christmas decorations, old computer parts, and various other sundries that filled the closet.

Over the next few weeks, it will become our little boy's nursery. The blue paint that is in the cans on the floor will be going up on the walls. Curtains are being made with cartoon animals on them. A crib, changing table, glider chair, and who knows what else will be taking up the floor space. Hopefully the rug we ordered will make it soon. Chances are a couple of T's, an A, and an E will find their way onto the wall, along with some other colorful, fun pieces of art. I'm not very good at picking that sort of stuff, but A's been working on finding some.

It was kind of strange sitting in the corner of this empty room thinking about what it is about to become. I was completely alone. It was silent except for the sound of the camera shutter. Before long, the room will be full of life. A will be sitting in her glider right there in the corner. Tate will be sleeping in her arms. It will be a good silence. I'll get to take that picture too, and the shutter won't even echo.

This chapter continues to be a long test of our endurance. The plot has stalled out and is highly repetitive. Not as many characters have been in and out. We still have no idea how much time is left in this particular section, but we remember that the longer this one goes, the easier the next one will be to get through. The part that includes the big chair and the beautiful woman and the tiny baby will be amazing. I just have to be patient. We're getting there. Slowly but surely.

30 Weeks

Yesterday was sonogram day, and as always my doctor pronounced everything unchanged. I'm slowly getting better at accepting that unchanged can mean a lot of things, all of which are fine for now, but it's still not easy. This week was one of the weeks that unchanged actually meant worse. I took the news better than some weeks, but I'm definitely dreading next Tuesday.

Today we finally hit 30 weeks. Although the sonogram wasn't great, everyone still assumes we'll be here awhile longer. It's just becoming more likely that the next few weeks will involve more restrictions for me which I would really prefer to avoid. Most of the time I have to force myself not to think about what could be ahead because if we get to that point, I'll have no real choice but to comply even though it will totally suck. Luckily, Tate was particularly precious during yesterday's sono: all curled up in a ball, sleeping, with his tiny hand rubbing his eyes. When I see him looking so real and human it's impossible not to love him, and that makes the hard stuff seem a little more bearable.

This week is shaping up to be long and boring. No going outside. No visits from Maggie, and hopefully no visits from Tate. Just waiting and hoping that next week things look better, not worse.

One Month

I can hardly believe I've been in the hospital for an entire month. It's certainly not because the month has flown by. I've done this for so many days that at times it's hard to remember life was ever different, but this is so far from something I thought I'd have to deal with that it still feels foreign most of the time. Other people do this. Stronger ones. Not me.

For the last week or so I've been exhausted with it all. Luckily the week has been fairly low stress because I don't know how well I would have dealt with another week like the last one. Unfortunately, being in bed is finally starting to wear on me. It took a month, but now my legs pretty much constantly feel stiff and weak. I'm losing patience with the miserable side effects from the medication I'm on to prevent contractions, and most of all I'm tired of being "reminded" that I should just think about how I'm doing what's best for my baby any time I say anything even vaguely negative, even if I'm answering a question (like about the side effects of the meds, for instance). Unless you've done this yourself random nurse, you don't get to tell me how to feel, thanks. Incidentally, the one doctor who HAS done this herself never criticizes.

Assuming nothing changes, Wednesday will mark the halfway point of my hospital stay. As long as I don't develop any new complications, my doctor has said I'll be allowed to go home once we reach 35 weeks. Since I was admitted at 25 weeks and 1 day, that works out to exactly 10 weeks, and we're 2 days away from the end of week 5. It's easier to think about when there's an end point. Only 6 more sonograms. A little over 5 more weeks. Things could still change at any moment, but it's fairly unlikely that the change would result in me being here longer. At least for this part, there is an end in sight.

We're almost to 30 weeks (wow!), and tomorrow we should find out if we're likely to make it to 31. Here's to hoping everything stays the same...

Another Week Down

It's been a quiet, slow week at the hospital. Tomorrow marks a full month since we arrived. The month has flown for me. With being up here mixed with work, food and grocery runs, some short times at home, and everything else that goes along with it; it seems like yesterday that we started all of this. I don't think I could make a half day out of the amount of time that I've spent at home aside from sleep and getting ready for work. It's a whole different story for A. The month has been long. She hasn't clocked an hour total outside of the walls of this room. Her 20 minute visit with Maggie earlier this week was the first time she's even left the hallway.

This difference is part of what makes this hard for me. The pace for me outside of these walls is so fast that I don't have the time I need to to slow down and rest. The hospital room is somewhere that I slow down, put away all that is going on outside, focus on my wife, and get some of that much needed rest. For her, the hospital room is a cell that sometimes seems to be getting smaller. Resting 24/7 isn't all it's as great as it sometimes sounds. She'd love to feel the normalcy of being out and about and running errands. I'd love to spend some nice, quiet days at home. This is probably the first time in our marriage that these roles have been reversed.

In the end, I'm going to do what keeps my wife and son safe, comfortable, and feeling loved. As we push into month #2, some things are going to continue to get harder. My pace isn't going to do much slowing down. A's pace isn't going to do much speeding up. We look back and are thankful that we've had the month that we have. We still haven't met Tate. He's still growing, and through this, so are we, even though we might not want to.

Things to be thankful for:

1. Going back several days, but I am extremely thankful for my buddy Mike. Tuesday got busy at work, and I didn't get the details of Maggie's visit with A worked out until very late. He dropped what he had planned to come help me out and made the day work.

2. The takeout counter at Chuy's in Plano. I've visited it many times this month, and they always get stuff ready quickly. I'm pretty sure they know me by now as Deluxe Chicken Quesadilla with Just Chicken and Cheese Guy.

3. Baseball season. The half inning of the Rangers that I tend to catch a day has become my nightly wind down routine.