It was April 2010. I was in the Mom/Baby unit. Room 39 I think (I was the guest of many variations of whatever number it was).
I was lying semi-upright in my newly prescribed bedrest position. Jon was with me. We were waiting for the doctor. I didn’t know when I’d get to go home. I’d been on that hospital third floor for four days and counting – ever since my “routine” checkup revealed that something was amiss, contractions were not Braxton-Hicks, and the muppets were in danger of making a very early arrival.
I was two days shy of 23 weeks.
Where the hell was that doctor!
Jon seemed preoccupied. He was staring down at his phone – reading something. (Kind of like me these days.)
I asked what he was reading. (Here is where I will share a secret – I did not really care what he was reading. I was frustrated and bored.)
He’d found some blog on these here interwebs. It was about a micropreemie, a little boy born at 23 weeks.
“He’s doing ok now. He’s still young, and he had a lot of ups and downs. But he seems ok. It looks rough though.”
Obviously I had to read Every Single Entry.
I continue to follow the life of this adorable superhero, as told through the eyes of his mother. I’ve never met them in person, but there is a kinship I’ve always felt with those in the secret society of prematurity who share their story.
Recently Parents Magazine nominated Jack as one of the top 5 blogs most likely to inspire world change.
Typically I roll my eyes at blog awards that require voting. Because the last thing I care to see are the words that touch so many reduced to a junior high popularity contest. And a blogger’s worth should shine through their work.
And this one does.
Because in some of my darkest moments, Jack’s story did change my world.
He gave me hope.