Baby Emmett, breastfeeding, health & body, NICU, pregnancy

Welcome to the world, Emmett!

This is certainly not a post I ever thought I’d be writing at just 26 weeks 2 days.

I really should go to sleep right now. It’s been a long, emotional day. But I’m completely wired and I don’t really feel like leaving the NICU, so I thought I’d grab my laptop, sit by my baby, and try to make sense of the day’s events in one of the most therapeutic ways I know — writing. And, much like my birth story with Theo, I know is is probably way more information than most people would ever want to read, but recalling all the details helps me process.

The short version:

Emmett John Hoffman made a dramatic entrance into this world today at 2:20 p.m. At just 26 weeks 2 days gestation, he weighed in at 1 lb. 14 oz and is 13 inches in length. We have a long road ahead of us, as doctors estimate he’ll stay in the NICU until close to his original due date of August 22. But this guy is already a fighter. He came out crying and already peed on the nurses.

The novel:

For the last couple days, things have felt, shall we say — a little more damp than normal. A lot of this I just chalked up to one of the less glamorous things about pregnancy that no one talks about. I remember The Grossness with my pregnancy with T, but I couldn’t quite shake the concern that it seemed to come on fairly suddenly this time. By last night it had increased to the point where I was genuinely starting to worry. Still, I know I can be a bit of a hypochondriac, and the fact that we’ve had two losses certainly doesn’t help that. After googling whether you can check for amniotic fluid at home, I hopped onto Amazon around midnight last night and one-day-Primed some Ph test strips. I figured $10 was a small price to pay to put my mind at ease. I’d test today and if anything looked questionable or I wasn’t reassured, I’d head to labor and delivery to get checked out. Just to be safe.

This morning I woke up around 5  a.m. to not only more of The Grossness, but it was tinged with blood and I was having mild contractions about 3-5 minutes apart. Even though I’ve been getting Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks now, I’d never had them this regularly. This was all making me feel really uneasy so I called the on-call OB. Without hesitation she told me, “Go to labor and delivery.” Unfortunately, D was out of town for work, so I had to get T off to daycare myself first. Getting him ready has been a bit of a struggle lately and timeliness has not been our strong suit. I may have bribed him with candy just to hurry and get in the damn car. Dropping him off was an incredibly emotional experience. This was possibly his last day as an only child but I had to rush him into his class while trying not to appear too worried (after all, there was a part of me still holding out hope it was nothing). I fought back tears as I kissed both cheeks, the top of his head and inhaled the smell of his hair. And then I practically ran out the door and sped to the hospital.

When I went to check into triage, I burst into tears and could hardly even tell them my name. I was alone and scared. D had no clue what was happening because he was on a plane and I couldn’t reach him. And I didn’t want to worry anyone else until I knew what was going on. They took me back and monitored my contractions and the baby’s heartrate for what felt like hours, and then finally the on-call OB checked me and determined I was 1 cm dilated. A tad concerning, but since I’d already had a baby, some dilation can actually be normal. She also took some swabs to send to the lab to see if there was amniotic fluid. She said it didn’t necessarily look like amniotic fluid to her, but that there was definitely more fluid than she was comfortable with. She said it actually looked more like what your cervix produces when you’re in labor (I had no idea this was a thing). Either way, not ideal, but no amniotic fluid was certainly the preferred outcome, so this sounded promising. If it were “just” preterm labor they said there was still a lot they could do for me. They would give me some magnesium to slow labor and could maybe even send me home tomorrow!

After the OB exam, I was sent to Maternal Fetal Medicine for an ultrasound to assess the baby’s size and viability. The MFM told me baby looked beautiful for a 26-weeker, but was very honest about what a rocky road we’d have ahead if we were to deliver now. Survival rate is about 90%, but beyond sheer survivability, we face potential heart, lung, eye and brain complications. He said the magnesium would help protect the brain and that they’d give me a steroid shot that would strengthen the lungs — just in case. The good news was that there was still a fair amount of fluid around the baby, so even if I were leaking amniotic fluid (we were still waiting on test results), it was likely a slow leak. And he said in rare cases, a pinhole leak could even repair itself. Either way, he didn’t think I was in immediate danger of “draining the pool,” so to speak, but if I were to completely rupture, I’d deliver within 48 hours.

About this time, we got the labwork back on the amniotic test. It was showing very small amounts of amniotic fluid. Not great news, but they were optimistic we could still keep this baby baking for longer with magnesium to slow contractions and antibiotics to stave off any infections threatened by the leak. I was able to catch D on a layover and update him on what was going on. While he was worried, everything I had been told sounded promising at that point. I told him not to worry – just get here when you can. I got officially admitted to the maternity ward for 24-hour observation.

Unfortunately, after a couple hours on the magnesium, contractions were getting progressively stronger, not weaker, even after they upped my dosage. And when I stood up to use the restroom, it was clear we were dealing with more than the slow leak we had suspected. When the doctor observed me writhing in pain and yelling through a contraction, she thought we should probably check my dilation. I’ll never forget the way her face fell and she said in a quiet voice. “You’re complete. We’re taking you to delivery.”

At that point I kind of traveled out of my body. I heard myself let out a scream that sounded like no sound I’d ever made before. Suddenly there were about 12 doctors and nurses in the room. We weren’t sure whether I’d need an emergency c-section, and they knew they needed the NICU team on standby, so they wheeled me down to the OR, even though the regular rooms are typically set up for delivery. I had about three contractions on the way and was yelling like they do in the movies (nothing like Theo’s calm but long birth!). I had completely lost control and I think it was part pain and part complete and utter fear. I had an overwhelming urge to push, but they kept telling me not to because the NICU team wasn’t ready yet. I knew the only way I could not push was to get an epidural. I asked if it was too late, and they all looked at each other like they didn’t know. They paged the anesthesiologist anyway and he met me in the OR. He agreed to the epidural. Unfortunately, he was working so quickly that he didn’t get me completely numb before putting the giant needle and tubing in my spine and digging around to get it into position. I think I yelled as loud as I had during contractions. To make matters worse, he messed up and had to start over. So I’m the lucky girl who got two epidurals today.

About this time, D burst into the OR in scrubs. I’ve never seen him look so scared in my life. He held my hand while I yelled through two more contractions, fighting the urge to push (why was the epidural not working yet?!) and then suddenly the NICU team was ready and it was go time. About 20 seconds and two pushes and he was out. It would have been one push but they actually made me slow down. He cried once he was out, which the doctors said was amazing for a 26-weeker. They held him up so I could see him and then they whisked him away to the NICU. He was bright pink, not blue – which the doctors also said was a good sign. His APGAR scores were 1, 4 and 8, which I’m told is also pretty amazing for a preemie this small. We later learned in the NICU they had to intubate him and then perform CPR to get his heartbeat back – not uncommon, but scary nonetheless.

While I was waiting for my placenta to deliver, I felt my lower half begin to tingle and go numb. Huh. Nice of the epidural to start working now. I delivered the placenta and got a quick exam, and then they rolled me back up to my room. It took forever before we were allowed to go see Emmett, partially because we had to wait for my epidural to wear off (again, so glad I got that :/). He is hooked up to a lot of tubes and wires, which is a bit intimidating, but everyone assures us he looks great for such a tiny preemie. We aren’t allowed to hold him yet, but they said we might be able to as soon as tomorrow or Friday. In the meantime, we’re allowed to hold his hand or foot, or sort of cup his head and feet while he’s awake. When he’s sleeping, they’ve advised us to let him rest. Meanwhile, I’m pumping every 3 hours around the clock to give him what I can to help him grow. I’m not producing anything just yet, but the frequent pumping should tell my boobs to get with the program!

I will get discharged from the hospital tomorrow, but I think we’re just going to camp out in E’s room and not go home just yet. Grandparents are watching T for a couple days, and I think the NICU is going to become our second home/office for a while. The doctors have told us he’ll likely stay in the NICU until close to his actual due date in August. I don’t think I’ve grasped the magnitude of spending three months in the NICU at this point, and I have a feeling we aren’t getting off the emotional roller coaster any time soon. For now, I’m trying to look at the NICU as an extension of my pregnancy – only now they’re carrying the baby, not me. We hadn’t planned on meeting him until August anyway, so this is sort of a sneak peek, and we’ll get him in August as planned. We’ll see how long this optimism holds up, anyway!

Holding Daddy's hand
Holding Daddy’s hand


Big little feet
Big little feet


Mommy and Emmett
Mommy and Emmett

8 thoughts on “Welcome to the world, Emmett!”

  1. Mandy, thank you for sharing what happened to you today. Shawn and I will be praying for Emmett every day for protection from any complications so he can be comfortable and grow till Aug. 22! Just as he would inside your womb.❤️💕❤️

  2. Amanda,
    I’ve been through the loss of two babies, one at 22 weeks. I understand the pain, fear,and guilt that loss brings and then these shear terror that comes with the joy of a new pregnancy. With my pregnancy of Evelyn I had my share of issues to deal with that included not even knowing I was pregnant until 16 weeks (we had given up after they removed one of my ovaries to tumors and I hit 44), RJ finding out he had kidney cancer that was untreatable unless it was still early enough to remove his kidney (it was), and a week long stay in the hospital just one week post RJ’s kidney removal after I contracted pneumonia during his surgery and recovery visiting him in the hospital. I was 22 weeks along when I was visiting the urgent care and ER three nights in a row and then admitted when my blood oxygen levels hit 82 (I couldn’t breathe, felt like I was drowning, and my body was shutting down). I was terrified that I would lose the little girl I was already so in love with and knew she would never survive being born that early. They monitored her heartbeat for two hours at a time every three hours (she was so small and so active we had to reposition the monitor multiple times each session because she wouldn’t hold still) and thankfully she stayed put and I carried her to full term.
    When I read your post last night my heart ached for you and my feeble attempt at an encouraging post fell short. I have lived through so much of a similar reproduction history, though in my own symptomatic way, and I cannot imagine what you are going through now. You must be joyful, loving, hopeful, thankful, mad, guilt-ridden, scared, among a hundred other emotions.
    I write this as I sit here watching my monitor as Evelyn sleeps after one of many night wake ups (she’s a horrible sleeper- still not sleeping through the night at 15 months) and think back to when she was my little fighter in the womb who wouldn’t stay still for even two hours so they could monitor her even though I had to be on oxygen my entire hospital stay, and know that your little fighter will be keeping you up at night as you watch him on the baby monitor at home in bed very soon. There are so many good things you’ve posted about his condition already that help me know in my heart he’s going to be okay- and eventually you will be too.
    I’m so sorry you and Dave are going through this and so happy Emmett is doing so well already. I couldn’t help but think of Dianna our graphic designer for BEDR last night when I read your post as she also had given birth to her daughter at this stage. Arya is now a happy, heathly, normal little girl. It does happen and every wish in my body goes out to you and little one that his journey to becoming that happy, heathly little baby boy goes quickly with many wonderful milestones. I’m sending you all the most good “ju-ju” I can muster and offer that I am here if you need to talk because I know it can help. Xoxo

  3. I’ve never had a premie baby and my heart really goes out to you.this post nearly had me in tears. Sounds like your keeping positive. Love and luck to you and your family. X

  4. My dearest Mandy thank you for being able to write your experience with Emmett, it was difficult to read through the tears as I love you so very much and I feel so inadequate that I can’t change your situation for you. I have told Jesus to stay with Emmett, you and Dave and help him to thrive without complications. All I can do from here is pray and that I’m doing with all my heart and soul.


  5. Thank you so much for sharing your story. I am so sorry you had to experience this, but I am so happy that Emmett is doing so well! I am praying for you and I can’t wait to read your blog and watch Emmett flourish in the coming months. Good luck!

  6. Such a amazing story. My heart goes out to you and your family. Baby E just get stronger everyday precious little one. You are such a strong woman and I know it will be sometime but I can’t wait to see you and your little one snuggled together. Sending my thoughts and prayers for Baby E to get stronger everyday. ::Big Hugs::


  7. Thank you for sharing your story. You are a brave woman and Emmett is so lucky to have you as his mommy. Praying for him, you, and you family. Stay strong momma. Hugs to you all!

  8. Sending big sweet hugs and prayers to you guys! I’m so glad he’s safely here and continues to grow strong. I love your outlook about those NICU nurses being the ones to help carry him now until August.

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