My son was only five weeks early, and was five pounds, eleven ounces, and 19 inches long. Because I'm half Asian, they didn't notice he was jaundiced until I was ready to leave. He had one of those light beds to sleep on for two weeks.
He was my miracle boy because I had lost two at about 11-12 weeks back to back before becoming pregnant with him. I didn't even know I was pregnant until I was 13 weeks along.
I stunned the ultrasound tech with my adamant refusal to learn my baby's gender. "This baby is my present from God," I told her, "Perfection is in the eye of the beholder. I don't believe in playing God in respect to learning gender or defects, I believe God chose me to be this child's Mother, and fully accept the gift that was entrusted to me."
After the work the Midwife did to help me stall the labour failed(48 hours total), I went to the hospital, unbeknownst to me dilated to nine. Snarky Nurses telling me I was too late for an epidural were unceremoniously thrown out of my room, my backup plan initiated(I had an awesome OB/GYN that was a former Midwife). She had to break the water because I couldn't progress further, and baby began to be in distress. I gave birth 45 minutes later to my son. How tiny those feet and hands were! When he didn't cry right away, I felt a bit of panic setting in. Then I heard the most incredibly beautiful sound ever. That high cry put me in tears, and does so whenever I remember that day.
The pediatrician that was called in to look at him tried to bully me into doing millions of things(like all the shots, and eyedrops, and formula feeding, and staying in the nursery), but my OB doc helped me stand up for my rights, and I got to feed my son, content that this very tiny person, my son, was going to grant me an interesting life.
And boy has he!