June 30th, 2016: the phone rings and I hear my nurse, Tony, say "I've got some good news for you". Tears immediately fill my eyes. Our almost four year journey had finally come to a close with the news that our very first IVF cycle was successful! That news led to a seemingly textbook pregnancy until my 32 week appointment when my blood pressure was slightly elevated. A 24 hour urine catch proved that, in my docotrs exact words, "you are getting sick and very quickly. You are being transferred to WVU Ruby Memorial Hospital and you won't be able to leave until you have the baby." It's funny how you remember those tough things exactly as they happen.

Upon arrival at WVU I was told that longest I would be able to carry the baby would be 34 weeks. However I didn't make it that far. Our tiny, 3 lb 9oz baby boy was born one day shy of 33 weeks. He was born at 8:30 and it would be 4 hours before I would be wheeled back to get just a glimpse of my premie. Afraid to touch him, I reached my hand through the opening and rubbed his leg. The nurse informed me that rubbing a premie's skin was actually not the best because of how thin and fragile their skin is. That would be the first of many lessons in caring for a premature baby.

Every day was long. I was not well and trying to recover across the hallway from my baby. Most days I would only be able to log in through the nic view camera and be freaked out by the newest tube or IV placement and frantically call the NICU for an update.

Going home was heartbreaking, the first time I had let myself cry through the whole ordeal. We would have to spend the next thirty days traveling the 15 mile stretch of interstate to spend time with our son. Most days I had to wait until my husband got off work, only getting to spend 2 hours with Clarke and cramming in kangaroo time, rounds with the doctors, pumping, and sponge baths.

Clarke was your NICU typical "lazy white boy" dropping all the way to 3 pounds before starting to gain. His biggest hurdle was learning to eat and hold his food. He hated his feeding tube as well. So many days I was sure he had yanked it out. It took him about 2 and a half weeks to show any sort of up hill growth. He finally started tolerating his feeds, transitioned to a bottle, gained up to a whopping 4 pounds, and passed his car seat test.

The discharge day was the most emotional day to date. Not only did I feel terrified to bring this small baby home but I would be doing it without the nurses that I have come to trust and love.

Our nurses' prediction came true and once we got home his progress took off. He started making milestone and getting big right before our eyes. I'm thankful for the tough things that make us stronger. I know our Clarke is strong and am glad I will always be able to reference this time in our lives as a time of personal development and growth.