Dear Little Baby,
The medical team and I were butting heads yet again. They came in with their numbers and their statistics and their cold blank stares, and they told me that I need to go home for two weeks so that I can cross their arbitrary line in the sand. Nobody wants to take a chance on hope. Every hospital that I have talked to has said that there is NOTHING that they can do for us. That until we get to 23 weeks, they are unwilling to keep us there. They all say that, before 23 weeks, there is NO CHANCE of your survival. But they can stuff their numbers right up their wazoos. In 2007, there was a baby girl born at 21 weeks, 6 days. She LIVED. (See the story here.) In 2011, a baby boy and baby girl set of twins were born. The baby boy lived six weeks before he (sadly) succumbed. But the baby girl LIVED. (See that story here.) Those two little girls were both born at 21 weeks, and they BOTH LIVED. They can’t tell me that there is NO HOPE.
After about 4 hours of arguing back and forth, a panic attack, and a complete meltdown on the jerk neonatologist, we won the fight today. Maybe there will be another fight, but that is a concern for another day. Today we won. And that is important today. Another reason we have to celebrate today is because we are at the 21 week mark. We have 14 more days before we are at the big milestone of 23 weeks. Hang in and hang on, Little Baby. As long as you’re fighting, I’m fighting like hell right beside you. I love you, Little Baby.