Why We Walk

Many of you know about our commitment to the March of Dimes, and that we walk and fundraise every year for the March for Babies. Sure, we've had preemies. Sure, we think it's a great organization. And yes, we truly do believe that the March of Dimes is dedicated to healthy pregnancies & babies! But for us, and most family teams that participate, it is so much more and there is normally a defining moment for Why We Walk.

At the March for Babies 2014, I was pregnant with Paisley then (upper left)

Lined up for the March (upper right) With our company team, Family Health Care (bottom)

When I spoke at a kickoff campaign last year for the first time, telling our story, I brought myself to tears. Not that I was that eloquent. pfft. No, I started crying because the memory I shared was SO VIVID, even 2 years later, with a happy, healthy baby...correction, toddler! sitting there wreaking havoc in the room. I am glad for the opportunity for donors and fundraisers alike to get the chance to see firsthand a family that has been neck-deep in the NICU, with firsthand experience to what kinds of education and support the March of Dimes provided. But more importantly, I wanted to share what was the driving force and motivation behind our commitment. I wanted them to know .... and so, with just under 2 weeks before we walk again, I want you to know as well, exactly Why We Walk.

...it does not get any easier - no matter how many times you've done it before...

It was discharge day for me, March 4th, 2011. I'd had an emergency C-section, and had been deemed fit to go home. I was ready to a certain extent. Certainly sore, who isn't? But mentally... I had no idea. They discharged me, and Kevin helped me down the stairs to Ella's room. By then she had been moved to Pod 8, and we had the routine of checking in, scrubbing, dropping off breastmilk - down to a science. I went in and I held her hand through the incubator window. We stayed for several hours, until shift change, and then reluctantly made our way down to the car. We were going home, without our baby. But I was determined to be a grown-up about this. I knew she was in the best of care, that her doctors and nurses were highly competent medical professionals. In fact, I knew she was receiving better care than I could possibly give at that moment. But we were leaving our baby. That's what it boiled down to in my head. I remember getting in the car, Kevin making sure everything was packed up tightly, even coming over to check that I was seatbelted properly. And then we started the drive home. We made it about 4 minutes. Right after you get on I-4 off Kaley, about 20 feet further... before he pulled over to the shoulder. And he reached over the console, held my hand and we sat there in silence, crying. My silent tears eventually turned into sobs, because in my head, all I could hear was this voice saying, "THIS IS NOT RIGHT! This is NOT the way it should be! No parents should ever have to leave their babies!" and I think I was hoping my crying would drown out that voice. That is Why We Walk.

Fast forward 2 years later... the same scenario is playing in my head. I was discharged just 2 days after Paisley was born. I pep-talked myself into handling this better. "We've been through this before" - "Same old song and dance" - "She's in the BEST CARE POSSIBLE" - "You can handle this!" - "You have 2 babies at home that need you" and again "We've been through this before"  But no matter the litany of go-getter-you-can-do-it phrases I told myself... it didn't make it any easier. I didn't even make it out of the driveway in front of the hospital before I gave in to the tears. This time, Kevin just pulled into the parking garage and we sat there together, holding hands until he got out of the car and came and just held me. Some things make a marriage fall apart and some make them stronger. I like to think we've been through the sickness and worse part of our vows in the first few years of our marriage, so we should have smoother sailing for the rest. But that moment there, was this glaring truth that it does not get any easier - no matter how many times you've done it before. And we've been down this route 3 times too many. That is Why We Walk.

We hope that one day, enough research, education and treatments will have accumulated to the point where no parents will ever experience the devastating loss of a child be it a miscarriage or stillbirth (the statistics for how common pregnancy loss occurs is staggering!). We hope that one day NICU nurseries will not be filled to capacity. But for us, the Adkins Family aka Team Adkins Asylum, we hope that when your little bundle of joy is brought into this world... that you get to experience the JOY of bringing her home, surrounded by family and love and never the loss, devastation, and even guilt... of driving away that first time. That is Why We Walk.

How can you help? Donate, Walk/Join/Create a Team, Start a fundraiser!

Life is what happens...

So, I've been jotting down notes in Word ever since I found out I was pregnant. I thought about going back and doing some posts retroactively, but to be honest, it's a litany of me getting sick, missing work, getting sick, going in the hospital... you get the point. I'm going to just throw in some back knowledge, and a little bit about why we're going here and then I'll start from there. I'm a 33 year old mom to two beautiful little girls, and wife to one crazy red-haired British dude. That's what my Girl Scout troop calls him: the crazy British dude. Kevin is my rock. I want to make that clear from the get-go. Because I'm sure in one or two or all of my posts, I may rant or grumble or whine or plain out bitch - and it may seem like I am ungrateful. And I don't want for any given point in time, anyone to ever mistake the love and appreciation I have for my husband. He is our foundation, and without him, I cannot imagine how our lives would be. That being said, there are times when a simple shake of my head, nod and smile, yes honey - any of those... are entirely appropriate.

I am presently 25 weeks pregnant with our 3rd (and last) child. As luck would have it... we're having, you guessed it - ANOTHER GIRL! Poor Kevin. Of our 2 daughters, both were born premature, each pregnancy worse than the one prior. Laurel Leah (DD#1) is now 9, and was born at 32 weeks. Elora Sage, aka Ella, (DD#2) just turned 2, and was born at 31 weeks. Her birth resulted in a TIA, or a minor stroke, for me and had her hanging out in the NICU for just over a month. So let me just make it clear, each birth has been progressively worse. While Laurel was early, she did not require a stay in the NICU. She was big (7lbs and 6 oz) and I was on insulin with this pregnancy and aside from being a little jaundiced, she was healthy. I was induced, had her naturally, and recovered relatively well, albeit a bit worn out. Ella, on the other hand, had us going from the beginning.

First of all, John Lennon sure knew what he was talking about... we went and made plans! Kevin and I were newlyweds, having married on the 4th of July that year, and planned on waiting for the immigration process to finish up before extending our family. In September, we discovered we were young, misguided fools - and I was pregnant! I managed to escape the insulin beast, but what I didn't get there, I more than made up for. Ella's pregnancy had me passing out left and right, my heart wasn't up for the extra load. Apparently neither was the rest of me, since I ended up with a TIA. I went in to one hospital and woke up in another with the doctor telling me, "You should let your parents know you're having a baby." To which I replied, "Oh they already know." And he chuckled and said - "NO - you're having one in about 2 hours" and so began the saga of Ella.

It was more difficult than anything I'd ever dealt with before. Leaving your baby in the hospital when you go home from giving birth is a disappointment like no other. We recently acted as our local March of Dimes Ambassador Family, and when I spoke, I referred to the varying emotions you feel as a parent that first time you drive away from the hospital with your child in the NICU. We had no real option, as we still had a little girl at home. And yes, we had jobs if we wanted to still be able to provide for our family. It was rough. My husband and I sat on the side of the road that first time, and cried together. We were in varied stages of guilt, grief, anger, frustration, disappointment and yes, we still had that sliver of joy because we DID have a baby. And for all intents and purposes, she was healthy and whole. But we felt incomplete - and we knew we would until the day we could bring her home. Ella's progress was much like many babies in the NICU, and also different from so many others. She was a strong little fighter, and jumped through hurdles faster than they anticipated. Every obstacle or goal she was to meet, she met and then moved on to the next one. She was a happy baby (still is) and loved to be cuddled. Wasn't fussy and irritable and the nurses loved on her all the time. We met our favorite NICU nurse, Jenn, at Winnie Palmer - and she left such a lasting impression on our hearts, that we continue to keep in touch with her today... even if she did move several states away *grumble, grumble* from us!

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

-John Lennon 

But that experience left a mark on us as well. We tendered the idea of having another baby and ultimately, we decided we just weren't going to try for another. I'm by no means on the shelf, but I was getting older. It had already been proven that my body just wasn't capable of carrying a baby full-term. And despite people telling us that "every pregnancy is different" - we also had experts that said that the likelihood of having a repeat experience was very high (especially since we're talking about the same father) - this is why you'll hear me say, "It's all Kevin's fault" so often. Kevin and I arranged for him to have a procedure done (the dreaded V) in late March. Unfortunately, we'd had some issues with our current BC plan, and then I went on traditional BC, aka the Pill, while being sick and on antibiotics. At this same time, my heart started doing these weird fluttery things again, and I was passing out...again. So lo and behold, I went to the cardiologist. When he told me my heart was working for 2, I felt a little stupid. Okay - I felt a LOT of stupid. I work in a doctor's office by the way, so the fact that it did not occur to me that antibiotics and birth control are not good team players... well, like I said, I felt a LOT of stupid.

 

We don't believe in the alternative, so Kevin and I immediately got over the shock, cried, laughed, told our families, cried some more. Fast forward now to mid July - my thyroid has given up the ghost, my blood pressure thinks it's in an express elevator, and now my blood sugar thinks EVERYTHING is cake, with icing, on top of icing. After a few days stay in Winnie Palmer, which sometimes feels like a vacation were it not for the needles and rationed meals, my perinatologist has deemed me unfit for work. I'm officially on bedrest at 25 weeks, and slowly going nuts. Okay, maybe not so slowly. The next few weeks will chronicle some of the struggles, maybe flashback to some of the health issues, and since I'm 90% positive I won't go to term with baby Paisley - her journey after birth. On the bright side, I have plenty of opportunity to notice that the tops of the walls in my bedroom never got painted. Oh yeah, and it's all Kevin's fault. Thanks for reading!