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I’ll never forget the day I found out I was pregnant with our son. It was July 17, 2020.

My husband and I had been on a 2 ½ year fertility journey. A journey that at times felt like it would never end. A journey that forever changed me, strengthened me, and a journey that would help me get through the pregnancy and birth of our premature baby.

The pregnancy started out as “normal,” but at our 20-week scan, the technician noticed that my placenta was on the bottom of my uterus, covering my cervix. She said this wasn’t unusual and that the placenta usually moves. She assured us that the baby was healthy and growing. 

 On January 4, I had my first bleed. I woke up covered in blood and immediately thought I’d lost our baby. We rushed to the hospital where the doctors hooked me up to machines to monitor me and the baby and evaluate what was happening.

After further evaluation, Dr. Williams confirmed what he’d hoped hadn’t been the case. This was placenta accreta, a serious condition where the placenta was growing into the uterine wall. We stayed in the hospital so they could evaluate me and the baby, and in the days and nights following, we learned a lot more about the condition.

Dr. Williams told us what may happen with the pregnancy. He said the goal would be to keep the baby in as long as possible, 34 weeks being a good scenario, but the baby would be coming early due to the placenta’s position and likelihood to keep growing into my uterine lining. 

On February 6, I had another night-time bleed and we wouldn’t leave the hospital until our son was born.

On February 9 at 31 weeks and 4 days and weighing 3.5 lbs our baby boy, Harrison “Harris” Garrett Jones was born. Named after his paternal uncle, Garrett and grandfather, Gary, we knew he’d carry the strength they had, and he certainly did. He was small but mighty, and he’d continue to show us this in the days to come.

Harris was fighting. He had what the nurses called bradys, where his heart rate slowed down and loud alarms would go off. They assured us these were normal for premature babies, but they were still terrifying.

On February 13, the doctors told us we could go home. We had mixed emotions. While we wanted to return home and be with our 3-year-old son, it was nice being in the same facility as Harris, only a floor away. Leaving Harris at the NICU was heart-wrenching.

But on March 19, after 38 days in the NICU, Harris and I left Ochsner Baptist together.

I know at a conscious level Harris won’t remember his time in my womb and his birth story, but I’ll certainly remind him of it. I’ll remind him of the strength he exhibited at such a young age, of his will to thrive and of his courage. I know at a subconscious level though, he knows his strength. I see it in him now. He’s strong, he’s motivated, he’s courageous and he can certainly stand up to his five-year old brother, Winn. He’s a light that shines so brightly in our lives.

 

All our love,

The Jones Family