'A fighter': Baby born at 23 weeks one of most premature Austin hospital has seen

At 22 weeks pregnant with twin boys, Tolulope Omokore was worried.

When the technician did an ultrasound, Omokore said, "she was quiet and looking around." Then Omokore remembers the technician saying, "I'm looking for it." She had never heard an ultrasound technician say that before.

That's when Omokore, 24, found out that Asaiah had died in utero. She was going to have to fight to keep Amandi alive.

He would become one of the youngest babies to be born at Austin's Seton Medical Center and survive.

Every day counts

When Omokore's trouble began at 22 weeks and three days, Amandi was on the cusp of viability, said Sami Smith, a neonatal nurse practitioner at Pediatrix Neonatology of Texas, which serves Seton Medical Center. That age "becomes a close decision. Can that fetus become an infant that survives?" Smith said. "Twenty three weeks is the gestational mark of the possibility of survival."

After she learned Asaiah had died, Omokore was put on bed rest. One day later, she returned to the hospital when the discharges she had been experiencing got heavier. She knew each additional day of her pregnancy was critical.

Amandi made it to 23 weeks, but on the fourth day of Omokore's hospitalization, she felt a gush of water. Her water had broken and the contractions started.

Omokore thought that maybe she could hide what was happening and somehow stall Amandi's birth, because she knew the risks of him being born so early.

"I didn't get to take any parenting classes," she said. "My breathing is all out of whack. I went from not dilating to 'Hurry and and take her to the OR.' I scared all the nurses."

After two pushes, Amandi was delivered. She heard him squeal a little bit before doctors began to work on him.

Celebrating every moment:'Beautiful memories': Parents honor daughter's life by helping sick kids experience joy

Then the room got quiet, and she delivered Asaiah.

"It was like he was cold," she said. She looked at all of his facial features. She remembers thinking, "'I wish you were here right now.' It was a really good moment."

She held Asaiah, and they took pictures of him. Those pictures now sit beside Amandi's crib, to remind him one day that he had a brother.

"It was a lot of emotions," Omokore said. "Wow, this really happened."

Smith said, at the hospital, they do see this with moms carrying multiple babies, where one starts to have complications, putting another at risk. In Omokore's case, they never found anything to point to what went wrong.

Amandi, who was due on May 7, was born on Jan. 10. He weighed 1 pound 5 ounces.

Creating a support system: A Hand to Hold for parents of premature babies

Life in the NICU at Austin's Seton Medical Center

There were ups and downs in his 155 days in the neonatal intensive care unit. He had to be on a ventilator. There were a few times where it was touch and go, especially with his lungs. She was told "he's not looking too good," or "get to the hospital right away."

At one point, Smith said, Amandi had a pulmonary hemorrhage and pneumonia. He had pulled his breathing tube out and aspirated milk.

"Those are the moments, the stuff that got to me," Omokore said. Her partner, Patrick Allen, would tell, "Babe, have faith," she said.

While Omokore was able to hold Asaiah at delivery, she had to wait two weeks before she could hold Amandi.

"When I got to hold him, this is the best moment of my life," she said. "It was really nice."

Each day Amandi got stronger. He surmounted hurdles. His brain wasn't affected and his eyes weren't injured by the oxygen he was given, which are common complications of prematurity.

NICU complications: Austin doctor saves babies from blindness as world expert in retinopathy of prematurity

"He's extremely resilient," Smith said. "He's a fighter. He has that drive. He really just took the reins and ran with it."

He got nicknamed the "drama king" in the NICU because he was always very vocal, Omokore said.

"He would tell you if he was not happy," Smith said. But when he was happy, "he made me laugh and smile," Smith said. "Every time, I go to his bedside, his eyes were opened wide and bright and soaking in all of his surroundings."

Smith said Omokore and Allen became part of the care team. "I loved seeing Tolu at the bedside all the time," Smith said. "She would ask great questions. She would interview nurses and doctors. Tolu's goal was to be very prominent in his care. The person that's there at their bedside all the time, that's their parent. Together we made it happen."

NICU parenting: 'I wish someone would have helped me': Texas dad turns 67-day NICU stay into chance to help others

Leaving the NICU

On June 14, they had reached the ultimate goal — taking Amandi home. He was still on some oxygen, which Smith said is very common for premature babies, but he didn't need a feeding tube. He got a NICU graduation with a cap and gown.

Omokore said going home was difficult. "It was really emotional. It's hard after having been with a second family of the hospital for five months."

They wouldn't be taking Asaiah home. In honor of his memory, they released balloons at the hospital. Every January, they plan on doing something to remember Asaiah, while celebrating Amandi's life.

While the family lived in Austin when Amandi was born, they decided to move back to Maryland to be closer to relatives there because of the doctors visits he will need as a result of his prematurity.

Amandi will need surgery to fix a hernia, but he's meeting all the milestones for a baby his age and prematurity.

"Seeing his smile, no matter how tired I am — even at 4 a.m. — I have no choice but to just smile," Omokore said. "'You're so cute.'" And then she remembers. "This is my 1-pound, 5-ounce baby smiling at me."

This article originally appeared on Austin American-Statesman: Baby born at 23 weeks one of most premature Austin hospital has seen