9

Today Emerson is 9mos old.

9 Months in, 9 months out as they say.

9 months in, that, even without a global pandemic, looked different than most.

It started when Dan and I decided we wanted to think about trying again. I went to my OB to talk about options. Testing, IVF, genetics, therapy. What made sense, what didn’t. What did we want to try or not.

The universe must have though our planning was funny, because I was back in their office 2 weeks later for an ultrasound to confirm I was in fact, already pregnant, and had been during our conversation. Surprised and terrified were pretty steady.

Once we realized we were pregnant, any pre baby genetic testing went out the window. So we settled for as much in utero genetic testing as we could.

Bloodwork through our doctor and a special genetics lab, fetal echos, and amnio with additional testing for Noonans and Prader-Willi specializations.

I was actually on a work trip in Austin, TX with some co-workers (Hi Morgan and Rachel) when I got the call that our first round of genetic testing had come back clear. Pretty sure I started crying in the hotel lobby where we had been working.

The calls would continue for the next month and a half, and finally, we got the final ‘all clear’. No testing we had done showed any issues. It was a big sigh of relief, but given our history not something we were willing to see as a total all clear.

The months continued, a pandemic started, trips were cancelled, our toddler and our work lives, and our impending new baby all worked on a new normal within a confined space and reality. I went to doctors appointments solo, and cried at the thought of my husband not being there when we had this baby. After everything, there was no way I would be able to keep it together.

Morning we left for the hospital

Luckily, just before baby was due, the hospitals allowed one person to be with you.

We rolled in day of, I got my all clear covid test, and we went into our prep room. It took all of one second to realize it was the same room we had prepped for Spencer in. We both hesitated and the nurse offered to move us, but we decided it would be ok.

I remember laying in the OR- them working on bringing Emerson into this world, and just past Dan was the giraffe warmer they would put him in. I just stared at the giraffe decal. My nod to Spencer. My calm in the storm.

Finally he was out, he was here, he was ours. No doctors or nurses rushed him away, no NICU teams awaited him. He was ours and would be going with us to recovery and everything else.

I responded to the drugs in my typical fashion of crashing hard for a few hours and waking up to my little man, sleepy as could be.

Less than 48hrs after we walked in, we were walking out.

While I would love to tell you the first few months were magic, we were home, with a toddler, from the day we came back from the hospital! Rough would be a good description. Blissful and rough.

Meeting baby brother

But here we are, 9 months later. Most family and friends have still not met Emerson. Life has yet to return to normal, and 9 months feels like 9 days and 9 years all at the same time.

But, for all the uncertainty. The Worry. The fear. Emerson is the happiest, smiliest baby we could have ever hoped for, so I guess the universe knew what it was doing when it skipped over all our plans for this one, and just let it be.