Hey Ivie Mae-bay. That's what I call you, either that or Ives. I can't believe you're turning one. It seems like yesterday I found out I was pregnant with you after one miscarriage and lining tests up to see if you were healthy. When I found out I was pregnant with you, I told your daddy and no one else for a while. We kept you our little secret for a while until we knew you were healthy. I think we knew deep down you were, because we trusted God, but the odds were stacked against you. You were "supposed" to have either Cystic Fibrosis or Microcephaly like your sister, so we call you our miracle baby. You didn't have either, and you were a perfect little baby growing inside of my tummy, so at 10 weeks after genetic tests confirmed you were a girl, we named you Ivie Mae.
You and I got lots of bonding time your last two weeks in the womb. We spend those two weeks in Greeley, sitting on a bed in the hospital, as I got to hear and watch your heart beat 24 hours a day. I kinda miss that sound. That's how I knew you were safe inside of me, that little, thump thump thump. On a warm Friday morning, Daddy drove to the hospital, along with both of your papa's and both of your grandma's, and they all waited in the waiting room for daddy to give them the good news that you were delivered via C-section safe and as healthy as possible. I was so scared to have an early baby. It took everything for me to stay calm, not cry, and just keep breathing as daddy snapped pictures of your birth. When I heard you cry for the first time, I started crying. I was so relieved that at 33 weeks and 5 days you had the lung power to have a loud cry. The Nicu nurses swooped you up right away and wrapped you up tightly in a warm blanket and started doing tests on you. They knew right away you needed to get to the Nicu nursery so off you went with daddy while I was left to be stitched up for what seemed like forever.
I got to be wheeled to you in my ginormous hospital bed after being in recovery for an hour and a few doses of morphine, which remind me to not ever do again because you won't poop for days with that stuff in your system! Seriously! Anyways, when I saw you, you were so snuggled up on your side, that tan skin, and dark hair and tiny waist. You only weighed 4.11 lbs and were 17 inches long. The nurse laid you on my chest and you were so warm. I got to hold you once before they put an IV in you, so without any cords. It was short lived as you started wheezing and they then knew you needed to be in an isolet with CPAP to help your lungs expand. I let them take care of you while I went to my room to rest. Thank goodness for daddy right? He got to stay right by your side! Maybe that's why you're such a daddy's girl.
Your sissy was at home with papa Steve, being taken care of, so she didn't get to meet you for a few days, but man, when she did, she was interested. We have the cutest picture of her bending down to look at you in your isolet. I don't think you knew then, and you may not know yet, but you have a best friend in her, and you were born into a very loving family.
You spent 16 days in the Nicu, and when they told us a few days before that, that you were about ready to come home, I bawled my eyes out. I could never prepare myself to have you stay in the Nicu, and have us at home. We did our best to balance life at home, taking am are of your sister Zoie, and seeing you everyday, but those were emotionally the hardest 16 days of my life. When we left the hospital on that 16th day, it was a warm Spring snow outside. We were scared to death to bring you home. We were so used to you being hooked up to machines that would alarm us when something was wrong, now we didn't have those, but home we went. I slept on the couch with you for the first two weeks because you were so tiny and I was so scared, plus I was recovering from surgery. We snuggled a lot. This was also when I stopped pumping to give you breast milk, and instead started you on formula. I cried, and cried some more. I promise I was doing my best, but I couldn't handle feeding your sissy, pumping, then feeding you, so I cut the one I could cut out which was pumping. Hey, at least you got breast milk for the first 4 weeks right? I did my best.
You didn't know this when you were born, and I'm sure you will slowly start to learn, but you have a once in a lifetime opportunity. You get to be the sissy of a special needs kiddo, named Zoie. I know she has already taught you some stuff, like how to pull hair, how to clap, she pulls the binky out of your mouth daily and you laugh. In return, you have showed her that she can roll to the kitchen on the hard wood floors.
I have no doubt you will be the best of friends. We don't do stuff like other families do, or can, and I pray one day you will understand and ask questions, but your daddy and I are also doing our best to give you the normal life you deserve. I think you already sense some stuff, like if Zoie has a seizure, you just sit there and play so I can take care of her, or the one time I had to leave you with firemen so I could go to the hospital with Zoie, you didn't even cry. Thanks for being the best little sis ever Ivie Mae.
Right now you have 6 teeth. You hate to touch grass. You love cheese just like me. You have a lot of brown hair and big blue eyes like your daddy. You love the stroller and are my running buddy. You take three naps still, and you have two of the most loving God-Parents that there are. You love putting your hands up and saying, "I don't know?" How you learned that, I have no idea? When you get mad you say," mama mama mama" over and over and it's kinda funny! You are stubborn and refuse to crawl, but would rather scoot on your butt. You rub your eyes when your tired, you can dance to music, and your favorite toy is a wooden puzzle or a makeup mirror that plays music. You still wake up at 430 every morning for a bottle, but I'm convinced it's because you want to see daddy before he goes to work. You're the best little babes ever and I cannot say enough how perfect, special, cute with your one little dimple, and loved you are!
So, my little Ives, just wanted you to know that we have many adventures ahead, but if it's anything like your first year of life, it will be perfect.
Love you and happy one-year to my babes.
I remember when you were born, 4 very short years ago. School wasn't even in your dad and I's minds. It's almost as if we forgot that when you have a child, part of them growing up is sending them off to school. You would think this would have crossed my mind being an Elementary Ed Grad, but we were so caught up in the now, and making sure we took our lives day by day, that no, school never came up. We decided to keep you home for your first year of preschool, due to your Cystic Fibrosis and learning delays. We wanted to strengthen your immune system an extra year, keep working on home therapies to help your brain development, speech, and muscle movement. You also had a very special friend at home to learn and grow with you; your baby sister Ivie. The last year you two have taught each other so much, she has pushed you, and you have pushed her. I'm so thankful we kept you home for that extra year! We have found a great preschool for you! It's called the Monroe Ear
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