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Almost a year ago, I was 4 1/2 months pregnant when I left work for a quick ultrasound exam. The tech kept me there for a while, then came out and said she'd called my doctor and he said to meet him at the hospital. Now. I had no idea what was going on, and I was terrified. I'd already miscarried twice; we thought we were safe this time.

Once we saw my doctor, he said my cervix was getting shorter and in danger of failing, meaning I could lose the baby. He was going to put in a cerclage - basically a closure stitch - and put me on bedrest, flat on my back, and hope for the best. It didn't sound good. I was admitted to the hospital, and spent the three longest days of my life there. He put me on magnesium sulfate to stop any early labor. He called it "flu in a bottle" and he wasn't kidding. I remember it was college football bowl season, and it helped to watch the games because I didn't have to concentrate on them.

I spent the next several weeks at home, with my biggest decision of the day which couch I'd park on (very exciting when it finally got warm enough that I could sit outside).  My husband took over all the chores. My friends and co-workers set up a schedule to bring us dinners. My mother-in-law did our laundry. And my mom came over every day to make me lunch and let the dog outside. It was the worst time of my life, but I was so touched by everyone doing so much for us. We looked ahead to milestones - 24 weeks, then 28 weeks, then 32 weeks (my doctor promised cartwheels if we made it that far - he still owes me).

Now I am sitting here watching my little miracle play with his toy laptop and squawk merrily at his father. And the college bowl games are on again. They're a lot more fun to watch this year.