Dear Baby Harrison,
November 27 — your guess date. You know, they say only 3% of babies are born on their due date and about the same percentage of moms go into labor that day… But before we get into too much detail about the day you were born, let’s back up a few months.
I was at my regular check-up at 16 weeks, your dad was traveling for work so, sadly, he couldn’t make this appointment. He made every appointment before and after, but this was a simple appointment, a quick listen to your heartbeat and a quick check on how my belly was growing. Everything was perfect. Your little heart was thumping away and my belly was rounding out, just as it should. We’d opted to do a blood test to ensure you didn’t have any major genetic abnormalities, as we had for your sister, and I had put zero thought into it; that is, until we got that horrific phone call.
I was working from my home office when the phone rang. It was one of our midwives. I immediately thought it was weird she was calling, and my heart sank. She said that we had received some troubling markers on our genetic test. She went on to explain that you, Harrison, had a 1:10 chance of having Trisomy 18, a genetic disorder that is not survivable. I tuned everything else out that she would go on to say after that and just broke down. Your dad was home as well, thankfully. I tried to process what she had said and what we needed to do from here. We both cried. We both felt immediately helpless. Confused. Shocked. Heartbroken.
We would go on to make several appointments and speak with high risk doctors and genetic counselors. Around this same time, I felt you moving inside me, but I couldn’t help but be depressed as you kicked and turned. We waited for tests results to help us determine how and if we would proceed with your pregnancy. And Harrison, my heart aches to write this down.
But after several grueling weeks of testing and grappling with numbers and ratios, we decided to go forward with the pregnancy. The testing we had done looked very promising; you didn’t appear to have Trisomy 18. We lived for the hope that we had had a false positive and continued to monitor the pregnancy with our midwives, as well as with the maternal fetal medicine doctors.
Fast forward to the last few weeks of pregnancy, I was getting more and more anxious for you to come. I had not yet concluded, as your father already had, that you would be perfectly healthy. I was worried. I was scared. I was going to love you with ALL my heart regardless of the outcome but wanted nothing more than to bring you home to meet your sister and snuggle you on the outside, as a healthy baby. Then, finally, we reached the home stretch. I was diagnosed with polyhydraminos (extra fluid) and a “very large baby”, which the doctors warned would be unsafe conditions should I go past my due date. But your dad and I put our trust in the midwives’ hands, and they decided we could wait. Wait and see. I couldn’t be more appreciative of the kind, careful thought and attention that went into our care.
November 27 — My midwife swept my membranes in the hopes that things would get moving, then I finished my last day of work, drank cup after cup of raspberry tea, and ate ALL the spicy food. After a long day, your dad settled downstairs to watch some TV while I did some online shopping. We had put your sister to bed a bit earlier than normal with a dose of Motrin; she was just not herself, and we worried she was getting sick. I was sitting on my yoga ball doing figure 8’s while scrolling the Thanksgiving Day sales, and before I knew it, I started to feel some cramping. I didn’t think too much of it, but most assuredly, I wanted it to be something; I was so sick of being pregnant. I sat there for a bit longer, and sure enough these cramps started to feel more like the real thing. I got excited. Something was happening. Having been induced for your sister, I was a little unsure of what to expect. I called for your dad to come up and start timing my contractions, and after about five minutes we both started laughing: the cramps had picked up FAST, they were lasting over a minute and getting stronger each time.
I was shaking with nerves and excitement as I called our doula and midwife. Both said to take a quick bath to try to relax and then make our way to the birth center. We called Krisi, our nanny, to come over and stay with your sister, but before we left we woke her for one more dose of Motrin and to check that she was ok.
You see, Harrison, your sister has had febrile seizures in the past, so it was extra important to keep her fever down … but when we woke her, she was on fire. We quickly took her temperature and it was 104. We stripped her down and cooled her off, gave her Motrin and hoped it would help her to feel better, but I was feeling very emotional. I would no longer be a mama of one when she would see me next, I would be a mama of two, so I decided to rock her back to sleep and soak in one last solo snuggle (while having some pretty intense contractions). Your sister appeared to have just fallen asleep, or so I thought, and then it happened. She had a seizure. A full-on horrible seizure that would last for 9 heartbreaking minutes.
My thoughts were racing. There I was, getting ready to have my second baby while my first baby was dying? It was some of the most awful moments of my life.
Thankfully, the ambulance arrived just as she was coming to. I rode with her to Children's Hospital (in case my water broke and baby decided to come quickly) while your dad and Krisi followed behind. I called Willow on the way. After some confusion as to why I was in an ambulance, we agreed to meet at Willow as soon as we dropped Lennon off, because it was of great importance to me that we get to the birth center; I had some time between contractions, and Grandma had arrived to take care of your sister who, thankfully, was acting much more like herself. Your dad and I shared some tears in the parking lot, held each other close, worked through a couple contractions and reset our minds on you. You were coming, no matter what other chaos was going on. You were strong and steady and ready to meet us, and we were so very ready to meet you. So we drove to Willow to try for the birth we’d always wanted.
Baby Harrison, I had several contractions as we traveled from the Willow parking lot to the elevator and up to the birth suite, but when we walked in, we could see that the setting was EXACTLY what we needed; it was so peaceful. The lights were dim, the room was warm, the water for the bathtub was running and the essential oils were being defused. I distinctly recall how wonderful it smelled.
The midwife checked on you as I took off my shoes and settled in. It took her awhile to find your heartbeat which jarred me a bit, but finally, there you were, heart thumping perfectly. Our birth doula arrived shortly thereafter, and then we heard that Lennon was doing well and soon to be headed home. Finally, I could focus solely on you.
The warm water felt amazing. My contractions started to get pretty intense once I was able to shift my mind to bringing you into the world. Your dad turned on the soundtrack I had prepared for you and massaged my shoulders and lower back alongside our doula. They kept me hydrated and spoke encouraging words.
I was SO happy to be at the birth center; it was exactly as I had pictured and such a stark difference to our hospital birth with your sister. You were making your way, I could feel you continue to get lower and lower. I paused for a moment to reflect on what a crazy journey our pregnancy had been. I was so thankful that everything had brought us here. It all was progressing so beautifully, and I couldn’t help but feel blessed.
You progressed quickly and I had to move all around to find comfort. I kneeled with my chin resting on the side of the tub and squeezed your daddy’s hands when the waves got intense (afterwards my chin was bruised!). I breathed through the contractions, squeezed your dad’s hands, and tried to do nothing but focus on moving you down. It happened fast, and before I knew it, I was working hard to push you out. I couldn’t believe it when the midwife said, “Reach down and feel your baby!”… and for a brief moment, panic set in with the flood of “what ifs” from the doctors, but a calm voice reminded me, “You are doing it, you are birthing your baby”. Just what I needed in that moment. I pushed harder than I ever thought imaginable and then you were here, after less than 10 pushes; there, in the water, music playing, a beautiful collection of women and your daddy welcoming you to the world. I saw your tiny little body “swimming” toward me, and I scooped you up, snuggled you in. You felt SO tiny and so amazingly perfect. You had ten fingers and ten toes, and you had the most precious little face. I was in love as you snuggled into my chest. You took a few seconds to take a breath, but when you finally did you let out a giant cry. We all cried. It took us a few minutes to check whether you were a boy or a girl, and as we had suspected all along, you were a boy! Weighing in at 8lbs 13oz and 21 inches long. You would be born at 4:30am on the 28th of November, one day past your due date, and without any sign of Trisomy 18. Perfect!
Jackelyn Viljaste lives in Chanhassen with her husband, David. They've been married for almost six years and have two children, Lennon (3.5) and Harrison (22mo), and they’re expecting another baby boy at the end of December! They both work full time in software sales, and Jackelyn moon-lights infrequently as a doula when life allows. They enjoy spending time outdoors, going on adventures around the Twin Cities, and traveling when they can.