Oliver’s Story - In February 2023, my husband Craig and I found out we were expecting our first child. We were so excited to start our family! The first trimester of our pregnancy was completely normal. Unfortunately, at 16 weeks, everything changed. We had a routine checkup at the beginning of my second trimester and found out that my blood pressure was elevated. It was not at a dangerous level yet, but I would need to be monitored more closely for the remainder of the pregnancy. Then, at our 18 week check up and anatomy scan, our son was small for his gestational age. The doctors were hopeful that it was just a faulty measurement, and they had us come back at 21 weeks for a more clear picture. At that appointment, even though our son had grown, our worst fears were confirmed. He was growth restricted, and starting to show signs of fetal distress. Craig and I were devastated. Our son was measuring below the first percentile, but the doctors would not intervene because he was not considered viable yet. He was supposed to be around 450 grams, or about a pound, and he was only estimated to be around 294 grams – ten ounces. If he was born that day, he would not survive. Our doctor explained all of this to us, and then scheduled a follow up ultrasound at 24 weeks to see if he grew to the point of viability. After an agonizing three week wait, we went in for our follow up appointment. Our first concern was that our son would not have a heartbeat – that his fetal distress would be too much for his tiny body. The flicker on the screen was a huge relief – he was still alive! To us, he looked perfect. He was wiggling, jumping, and doing flips on his scan! However, the doctor had more grim news. His placenta was not pumping the nutrients our son needed to grow like it should. In fact, it was causing waste to go into his body instead of out, and he was growing at an alarmingly slow pace. Not only that, but my blood pressure had skyrocketed. My body was working overtime to try to get the placenta to push our son’s nutrition through, but it was causing me to have symptoms of gestational hypertension, one step below preeclampsia. Our doctor sat us down and explained all of this to us. We asked if our son was viable yet, could we intervene. In order for the doctors to act, he would need to be at least 400 grams. According to the 24 week scan, his estimated fetal weight was 403 grams. While his chances of survival were slim, they were no longer zero. The doctors were ready to step in. I was admitted to Wake Med Raleigh that day for monitoring. I was also given a round of steroids to help our son’s lungs develop in order to give him a better chance of survival if and when he needed to be delivered, and a round of IV magnesium in order to protect his brain and mine. Because my blood pressure was high to the point of possibly causing a stroke or seizure, I was put on continuous monitoring for the first 24 hours. For 18 nights, we had multiple non stress tests each day in order to check our son for signs of distress. I endured multiple blood tests, IV placements, nausea, increased blood pressure, and incredible anxiety about whether or not my son would survive. It was a terrifying time for our family. Though I received excellent care from Wake Med’s Maternal Fetal Medicine team, the uncertainty was difficult beyond words. Ultimately, at 26 weeks and 4 days gestation, our son’s heart rate dropped to a dangerously low level and the doctors told us he needed to be born immediately. I was rushed to the OR, and our son was delivered via emergency c-section. He was so tiny – weighing only 440 grams, or 15.5 ounces. That’s less than a pound, or smaller than a bottle of water. While we knew he was going to be very small, our main worry was that he would not be big enough for the breathing tubes to fit safely. Much to our relief, a neonatologist came in to the delivery room and told us that they were able to intubate him, and that he was alive and would be ready to meet us soon. “By the way,” the doctor said, “what is his name?” We had not told anyone what we were naming him up to this point. We wanted it to be a fun surprise for everyone. “Oliver,” I replied, “his name is Oliver.” The next few months in the NICU were a blur. Oliver fought through multiple life-threatening events. During his first weekend of life, he had a pulmonary hemorrhage while Craig and I were visiting. Oliver also had an intraventricular hemorrhage at birth. He needed ten blood transfusions, multiple extubation attempts, significant intervention for bradycardia and desaturation, and more medications than we care to count. Oliver only had about a 10-20% chance of survival intact, meaning that he was unlikely to have a good quality of life if he made it out of the NICU, but we stuck with him everyday. We held him, we sang to him, we read to him, we prayed over him, and we told him over and over how loved and brave he was. Every night before we went home, we read Oliver a book given to us by Wake Med called “Good Night NICU”. Still to this day, we have it memorized. Also during his NICU stay, Oliver had incredible providers. His doctors, nurses, nurse practitioners, respiratory therapists, speech therapists, social workers, chaplains, physical therapists, and everyone in between made so much of a difference in his life, and in ours. The Wake Med NICU team is truly a remarkable group, and we are so glad that Oliver was born in Raleigh and cared for so well by each individual there. Finally, after 130 days, we brought Oliver home with us right before Christmas on December 19, 2023. He was on a small amount of oxygen and needed a g tube for most of his nutrition, but he was otherwise healthy. Since then, he has come off of oxygen and all of his medications except for those for reflux. He is crawling, standing, babbling, laughing, and thriving, and he brings more light to our lives than we could ever imagine. Craig and I feel so grateful to be Oliver’s parents – he was always meant to be ours, and we thank God everyday for him.