*I FEEL I MUST WARN YOU. THIS ISN’T MY USUAL KIND OF POST. THIS IS THE STORY OF ETHAN. AND YOU WON’T LAUGH. IN FACT YOU MAY CRY–I DID WHEN I WROTE IT. SO, FEEL FREE TO SKIP IT. I’LL BE FUNNY TOMORROW.*

That’s how old Ethan is today. My youngest child, my only son. Four.

And it was four years and one day ago that I went to my ob/gyn because I felt like a watermelon was about to fall out of my vagina. Turns out, it was a baby.

Yes, I knew I was pregnant. What do you think I am, an idiot? (don’t answer that)

It’s just that it wasn’t time. I had all my other children early, but this was REALLY early. I was only 34 weeks, 4 days. And I don’t know if you know this about little white boys, but they don’t tend to thrive well being born early. Sorta makes sense, yes?

And I had already been on bed rest and medication to stop the contractions for 2 weeks. It just wasn’t working.

So, my rock star doctor (who had delivered all of my babies and seen me thru 1 miscarriage and 1 ectopic pregnancy) put me in the hospital. She wanted to try and buy us some time.

Turns out Ethan had other plans.

Apparently, he was ready to come out.

During that night in the hospital I dilated from a 2 to a 5. He would be born on August 4th–6 weeks before his due date.

I was prepared. I was told that there was a 99% chance he would have to stay in the NIC unit. So I was ready. It didn’t matter if I was or not, there was nothing I could do. It was out of my control.

I was gonna roll with it. Besides, what was the alternative?

My family had been on alert–they’d done this with me before. When you have all of your children 4 weeks plus ahead of schedule, you learn to bend.

A little after noon on August 4th, I was fully dilated and ready to push. Although I didn’t really push so much as Ethan came shooting out, literally. One thing is true about me, I know how to birth babies.

When I saw him for the first time with his jet black hair and long fingers, my heart swelled. I had always wanted a son. And here he was.

But he was early.

I didn’t get to see him very long before the team of specialists whisked him away to the NIC unit, and all at once, I was heartbroken. I wouldn’t get to hold him, nurse him, or count his fingers and toes.

Well, not until much later.

And it felt as if someone had punched me in the gut.

But even still, I felt blessed.

I was lucky to have the E-man. After my third daughter was born, I got pregnant a year later. The day I took the test to confirm the pregnancy, I started getting severe, stabbing pains in my stomach. They worsened over time, and finally I told Tommy that something was wrong. He took me to the ER and turns out, I had a baby growing in my tubes. Before I had a chance to say anything, I was rushed into the operating room where the doctor went in and well, removed it. And just like that, I wasn’t pregnant anymore. I was devastated.

The next year I tried again and got pregnant again. This time I was considered high risk because of the ectopic pregnancy, so my doctor monitored me closely. At 8 weeks, we breathed a sigh of relief when we saw that not only was the tiny lima bean in the right place, but he/she had a heartbeat.

But 4 weeks later while we were vacationing in Florida, I start bleeding. I phoned my doctor and she assured me that I was probably just over doing it and that only 5% of pregnancies miscarry after the heartbeat is detected.

I’m that unlucky.

The bleeding became worse so I had Tommy drive me to the hospital. Sure enough, there was no heartbeat. I was having a miscarriage. The doctor on duty asked me what I wanted to do. I didn’t fully understand what he was saying. I needed to get back to my kids. I didn’t want to be in the hospital. I was scared. So I opted out of the D&C and picked up prescriptions for pain meds. The last thing the doctor said to me was “don’t be brave, take the medicine.” I didn’t know what he was talking about.

Until I did.

Wow. I found out that having a miscarriage is just like giving birth, but horrific.

The pain worsened over the next few hours and as I tried to be as normal for my kids and my family as I could, I was broken on the inside. Broken. Another baby lost. And I was living it in real time. I wondered if I’d made a mistake by opting out of having the D&C. At least I would have been unconscious.

It was too late now.

You don’t want to know what happened next, but it was awful. And it was over.

After that, I was done with heartbreak. I couldn’t imagine losing another child, but I so desperately felt someone was missing from our family.

A year later, I told Tommy I wanted to try one more time–to fill the hole in my heart, the void in my life.

I think he thought I was crazy, but he also knew there was no talking me out of it.

The day I found out I was pregnant with Ethan, I was afraid to be happy. I worried. And I didn’t stop worrying until I was well into my second trimester. I thought any minute something bad was going to happen and I would lose another baby.

But this time, I got to keep my baby. And if the worse thing was that he was born too early and had to stay in the hospital 6 days, I’d sure as shit take it.

Happy Birthday, my sweetest boy. You are the other man in my life. You are the reason my heart is whole.