If you know me at all, or if you've read anything I've written, you know that the number 25 means a lot to me; it is the baseball jersey number of nearly 5 generations of Holzhausers.
Today marks the beginning of Mindy's 25th week of pregnancy. At 25 weeks the survival rate of our little man is roughly 54-60% depending on what and where you're reading. On top of that, the chance for disabilities is 50%. It sounds bleak, but compared to our odds and chances when we got here two weeks ago, it seems magical.
Mindy had a morphology ultrasound today. It has been 5 weeks since we saw him. He looked bigger on the screen, his bones whiter and denser, his head absolutely huge. But, really, he's only 1 pound 11 ounces. From what I've read, he's a little above average. We'll take it. We'd take a fat ass baby right now.
If I'm understanding correctly, he's all there. I mean, he has all of the parts he needs: arms, legs, brain, kidneys. All that. However, his lungs and brain aren't developed. Did you know that fetuses "breathe" the amniotic fluid to help their lungs grow? I mean, they breathe their own pee. It totally makes sense, but I had never thought about it until recently.
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Perhaps one of the best parts about being with Mindy in the hospital is getting to know him better. Last week I could feel him moving through her belly. It felt like gas...at least the kind of gas I have. He has a sleeping pattern; he moves around about the same time every day. Because Mindy has little to no other sensory stimulation, she lies around all day feeling his every move. He's all she has to worry about right now, while I have to worry about the both of them, my students, the house, our cats, the mortgage.
She has been in this bed for 15 days. Surprisingly, she hasn't really gotten bored. Yet. We've watched just a couple of movies. She has a book to read, but she hasn't. We've watched much less t.v. than I thought we would. So, what do we do? We talk. People stream through the room and make us laugh (though Mindy gets nervous after too much laughing; we don't want him coming out, you know). She hasn't really complained, though she didn't feel well when they did the magnesium sulfate iv. But that was only 24 hours of 15 days.
She lies with her ass above her head as often as she can (even though there is no evidence that this helps), she says it's all she can do. And there really isn't much of an option.
She is teaching me a lesson in patience. I've always known she's more patient than I, but now I really see it at work. I shave her legs and she pretends it's normal, acts like it doesn't bother her that she can't.
I guess it's all an odd routine, but I wouldn't mind if it lasted for months. In fact, we can only hope that it does.
So, week 25 is here. Every day is better. Every day our son grows his lungs and his brain. Every day I kiss Mindy and tell her I love her.
And every day we grow.