Grey's Anatomy last night blew my mind. Not talking about how the usually-drama-packed series turned musical (that was just plain awesome). No, I'm talking about the baby that was delivered at 23 weeks because her mom was in a serious car accident, making delivery imperative.
Seeing a 1lb baby delivered to LIVE stopped my heart. I have friends who work in the NICU (neo-natal ICU) of children's hospitals too, and they have confirmed, that it's indeed possible. At 23 weeks, a baby can be delivered, and live.
It just struck me how resilient little babies really are. How beautiful they are, even when they're only a pound. When you're pregnant with a baby, and are 23 weeks along, you feel so far from being a mom. My sweet friend Jamie is 19 weeks as I write this, and is barely showing, but in a few weeks, if she had to deliver that baby (with medical help, to be sure!) it could live. I'm just amazed by that. Astounded.
It also breaks my heart, and my being to the core, that a baby's life can be terminated up until 37 weeks (full-term), in the womb, in Canada.
Thoughts swirling around in my head:
Babies are resilient.
Life is so valuable, but can be taken swiftly and easily.
Pregnancy is an awe-inspiring thing.
I'm already a mom of two.
Even if it doesn't feel like it, I have children.