The day after Baby A's birth, all the usual hospital happenings occurred, which didn't have usual outcomes (at least in my opinion). She had her hearing screening done and she didn't pass. I of course awful-ized and thought that she was deaf (I thought Bailey, our eleven year old dog was deaf when she was a puppy, too). The person that did the screening said she probably had fluid in her ears. She showed us how to massage her ears and then she came back a couple hours later. Her second time around, she passed! Phew! She had her pediatrician check done and we were informed that Baby A had a tongue tie, one of her hips was out of socket, and she was at risk for jaundice. The tongue tie really scared me! I texted my doula and a friend of mine from Kissui and asked them what I should do. They both said that I should have it treated right away. The pediatrician said that there were about six other babies on the floor that had tongue ties too, and that a doctor would come by later on in the day and cut them if we were okay with it. I struggled with the thought of Baby A going through a procedure at such a young age, but her tongue tie could have negatively impacted her ability to latch for feeding and impact her speech down the road. The pediatrician told me that it didn't really hurt (although I don't know how she knew that since she couldn't ask any of the infant patients that had the procedure done) and that it was a simple procedure. She said that the babies stayed awake and a small bit of skin was snipped. Brad could go with her and stay with her the entire time. We decided to go ahead and do it. When Baby A came back from the procedure, she seemed okay to me. Brad said she didn't cry much. I didn't let my mind dream build what it must have been like for her - I just didn't go there. A nurse gave her a syringe of sugar water to help if she was experiencing any pain. I wasn't a fan of her having sugar, but it was better than an antibiotic.
By late afternoon, we were both cleared to go home. However, Baby A's pediatrician suggested that we stay because of Baby A's jaundice numbers. She said that since it was a Saturday, if we went home and woke up the next morning with Baby A having jaundice, we'd have to take her to the Emergency Room for treatment. But if we stayed one more night in the hospital and we woke up with her having jaundice, they'd simply bring us a warming blanket and treat her in my hospital room and she wouldn't have to leave my side. As badly as we wanted to go home, we decided that it'd be best to stay one more night.
During the second night, as I watching Baby A, I noticed that her breathing seemed a little strange. I wasn't sure if I was seeing something that wasn't there due to my lack of sleep and extreme exhaustion. Brad suggested that I call in a nurse. A nurse came and checked her out. She noticed something a little off and said she'd monitor it throughout the night. Around 3:00 am., she came back and noticed that it was still there. She called the pediatrician. She ordered a chest x-ray, which was done in the old nursery. Gone are the days of newborns sleeping in the nursery (thank goodness!). I didn't think I'd ever step foot in the nursery, but we did. They brought in a portable x-ray machine. While I was in the nursery, I started getting really shaky. The nurse checked my heart rate and said it was really high. They had me sit and drink some water. I was told to calm down, but between the tongue tie, the hearing screening, the hip diagnosis, the jaundice, the long labor, and now this - the breathing issue - I was having a difficult time calming down. It was as if all that I had learned over the years had gone out the window. I was a nervous and anxious wreck! After a couple hours in the nursery, we were sent back to our room with Baby A to wait for the pediatrician.
When the pediatrician finally came in, she told us that Baby A could possibly have an infection and that they'd like to send her to the NICU for 48 hours. I could hardly believe what I was being told. The NICU? How could my baby end up in the NICU? The pediatrician said that there was a small chance of an infection, but if they didn't treat her now with antibiotics and the possible infection started spreading, we'd have a difficult time treating it. There was a spot on her chest x-ray that the pediatrician said was possible fluid, which was even more of a reason for observation in the NICU. They said they'd be back in a bit to take Baby A down to the NICU.
My birth wish list had worked out pretty darn well, but I hadn't even thought about what could happen after the birth. I didn't have time to research any of the things that could happen after birth, although I don't think I could have researched the exact thing that she was diagnosed with. I knew I could challenge things the doctor/nurses said during labor, but after labor, all I knew how to do was trust what they were saying. After all, isn't that why I was in the hospital? In case something went wrong, we were in the "right" place, right? Brad said that we were doing the right thing by having her go to the NICU. He had to make the decisions for me because I was in some sort of a fog. I cried uncontrollably and Brad held me in his arms telling me that it'd be okay. I called my mom after the pediatrician left and I bawled. My parents left their house and came over to the hospital. They walked through the hospital room door just as Baby A and Brad were leaving with the nurses to go to the NICU.
Before Baby A left, I held her in my arms, tears streaming down my face, whispering into her ear that she was safe and that mommy loved her. I could hardly believe that I was sending my baby away when I had tried everything I could to have her right next to me from the time she was put onto my stomach to after birth. Brad assured me that he'd stay with her while they took her to the NICU and got her all set up, and then they said I could come down in about 45 minutes. My mom helped me get a little put together while we awaited the call that I could come down and see my baby.
Brad called and said that I could come down. My parents went with me and helped me walk. I was still very weak, and I had decided that I didn't want to take the pain medication that had been prescribed to me for pain from labor (advil) because I didn't want anything getting into my breast milk, so I was in a lot of pain, too. A little side note on pain medication, I prefer to feel the pain because then I know when it's really gone away, as opposed to taking pain medication and thinking that it's really gone when it isn't. Then, I overdo things because I'm feeling better and the pain ends up coming back worse. Plus, I'm not a fan of medication. My parents left me at the entrance of the NICU (only two family members could be in at a time) and Brad met me. Upon entrance, I started sobbing again. There were so many babies in there and they were all so sick. I was still in shock that my baby was in there in the first place.
I had to wash my hands and arms up to my elbows for 60 seconds, put on a hospital gown, and put a plastic cover over my cell phone before I could go over to see Baby A. Those 60 seconds seemed like an eternity. My heart pounded, my anxiety at it's peak. Brad walked me over to our daughter. I wanted to run, but I didn't have the strength. She was in the cubicle at the end of the NICU where the healthier, older babies were. She was in a box next to a window, which I was grateful for. The minute I saw her, I started crying uncontrollably. She had an IV in her small, tiny hand and cords stuck to her chest monitoring her oxygen and heartbeat. She was crying and swaddled up in a little blanket. I started thinking about how much pain she must have been in when they put the IV in her hand. It looked horrible! Her hand was taped up, too, so she didn't pull on the cord. The nurse taking care of Baby A must have been watching my reaction because I ended up getting taken to the side with Brad, and being told that I needed to calm down. She asked me how much pain I was in (physical or emotional? I was experiencing both). I didn't realize my physical pain was noticeable. I told her that I was in pain, but I was okay. She asked me if I was taking my pain medication and I told her I wasn't. She asked me why and after hearing me, she assured me that the advil wouldn't hurt Baby A. She pretty much ordered me to go back up to my hospital room, which I had until 11:59 p.m. that night, take my medication and take a nap before I could come back to the NICU. She said that my face was pale and gray and that I wouldn't be able to help Baby A if I kept on going the way I was. She also told me that I my milk supply would be negatively impacted by my emotional state, which only added to my anxiety.
Brad called my parents (they were waiting in my hospital room) and told them what the nurse had said. They came and got me. I felt helpless and completely out of it. I didn't want to talk. My parents got me some food, had me take my medication, and then stayed with me for an hour while I attempted to take a nap. My baby was supposed to be with me. She was supposed to be skin to skin in my arms nursing on demand. My baby was supposed to feel safe, secure, and loved wrapped in my arms. My baby was supposed to hear my voice and feel my hand stroking her chubby little cheeks. My baby was supposed to be calmed and soothed by me (although Brad was much better at that than me - he was a natural with her!). But instead of all those things, she was in the NICU with nurses. Yes, Brad was there with her, but I wasn't. I had to pull it together for her.
After a little rest, Brad called and said that I should come down and feed Baby A. My parents walked me down again and Brad met me at the door. Again, I went through the same washing/cleaning procedure before walking over to Baby A. I heard crying and wanted to shout out to her from the sink telling her that mama was there and coming, but I knew I couldn't do that. I walked as quickly as I could over to her. Brad helped me pick her up. The cords were difficult to maneuver. There was one leather reclining chair next to her bed container. It was really painful for me to sit because of the stitches, but I hid the pain from showing up on my face. The nurse said my skin color looked better. I held in the tears the best that I could. I held Baby A and whispered into her ear. "Mama's here, mama's here."
Breastfeeding was difficult for me sitting in a chair (and because of all the anxiety/emotions I was feeling). Baby A was picking up on my accelerated heart rate and was having a hard time latching, which made me cry. My body would contract during feedings because I knew that it was going to be hard to get her to latch. Our nurse helped me a ton! It's crazy having someone grab your boob and stick it in your baby's mouth, but I was so grateful for her doing that. Brad ended up getting the hang of how to help me, and he took over with the set-up each time I fed her. I had to pump during my time in the NICU in order to have some bottles for Baby A while we were gone at night. It was nice having experts train me in how to pump. I was told that I needed to pump at home at 3:00 a.m. before we came back to see Baby A at 5:00 a.m.
We stayed with Baby A until around 11:00 p.m. Our nurse asked if they should use formula or donor breast milk in case Baby A drank all the milk I had pumped throughout the night. I couldn't believe I was facing another tough decision again. Formula or donor milk?? Neither is what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that I'd stay there the whole 48 hours that Baby A was in the NICU, so I could feed her, but that wouldn't have been good. I needed to lay down (my feet were swelling from sitting up and not recovering in bed with my feet raised) and shut my eyes for a couple hours in order to keep my milk supply up. And Brad needed to sleep in order to take care of both his girls. I was also extremely scared that Baby A would have nipple confusion from being offered a bottle so early. I had so much fear. We decided on donor milk, which we later found out isn't something most hospitals offer because of the expense, so I was grateful for that.
We left the NICU around 11:30 p.m. Before we left, Brad held Baby A and told her we'd be back soon. Then I held her and whispered to her that she was brave and safe. Brad swaddled her up and placed her in her box bed. He became a master swaddler, which didn't surprise me (he's pretty much good at everything he does). I immediately started sobbing upon exiting the NICU and waiting for the elevator to take us down to the lobby. Brad comforted me the best he could. I will never forget that feeling of walking out of the hospital together not being pregnant any longer and not actually having our baby in our arms. We were supposed to be leaving together as a family. We were supposed to be putting her car seat in the back of the car and driving home together as a family of three, but instead, we were leaving our angel with strangers (yes, I know they were nurses, but still, they didn't love Baby A like we did). I couldn't stop thinking about what Baby A must be thinking and feeling. "Where is my mommy? Why am I here?" Was she scared? Did she think we abandoned her? Did she think the nurses were her family?
I longed to be able to stay another night in the hospital, so I could have fed her whenever she was hungry, but we weren't allowed to. I understand that the room was for me and since I was cleared to go home, insurance would no longer cover it, but it just didn't seem right to kick a new mom and dad out while their baby was still in the hospital. I even asked the hospital staff if I could pay to keep the room one more night.
The drive home was so sad. I remember looking out the window wondering how life could still be going on while my sweet angel was in the NICU. It didn't seem real. I wondered if I would suddenly wake up and realize that all this was a nightmare. At home, our sweet doggies met us at the door. They brought me comfort. I took a shower, which was much needed. Brad set up my breast pump for me on my side of the bed so I wouldn't have to do it at 3:00 a.m., which was only a few hours away. We went to bed and I tried to fall asleep but I could think about was my angel. What was she thinking right now? Was she crying? Was she being held? Did she have to drink the donor milk? I must have fallen asleep because I awoke to my alarm going off at 3:00 a.m. I pumped listening to the little pump machine. I swore it was saying, "Bring me home, bring me home, bring me home," over and over again. I was heartbroken and exhausted. The alarm went off again at 4:45 a.m. and we quickly dressed and left to go see Baby A. I didn't brush my hair. In fact, I don't think I brushed for four days. The last thing I wanted to do was waste valuable seconds on my presentation when I could have been with my angel instead.
When we got to the NICU, we washed up and walked as quickly as possible to see Baby A. We grabbed her out the box she was in and held her not ever wanting to put her down. I took off my top so we could be skin to skin, which Brad did as well, and I fed her. When she wasn't skin to skin with me, she was skin to skin with Brad. I couldn't have done it without him. I asked if they used donor milk, and they said they had to use 1 ounce of it. They said that she had a good night - no breathing problems.
We had to leave at 6:30 a.m. and couldn't return until 8:00 a.m., because all the nurses change shifts and talk about their patients (HIPPA laws). The same happened from 6:30-8:00 p.m. Brad and I went back home and Brad made me breakfast while I tried to get a little rest. Brad talked me into staying at home until 9:00 a.m. to get some sleep. I was in poor condition for sure. My mom picked me up from home and took me back to the NICU. When I got there, Brad was holding her and she was hungry. I fed her. The day passed slowly as we watched the monitors and took turns holding our angel. Luckily,
the NICU nurses were okay with continuing to use the cloth diapers we had sent down with her and the water wipes. We got to change her diaper and I loved seeing her in those cute cloth diapers. The only thing I didn't like about diaper changes was smelling the antibiotics in her pee. It was such a strong smell.
The day passed and night came. I almost didn't leave because I didn't get a good vibe about the nighttime nurse. She was in charge of Baby A and of the baby next to her. We got a chance to know all the nurses that took care of Baby A since we were in there so much, and this nurse wasn't very nurturing. I didn't like the way she took care of the baby next to us, nor did I like the way she responded to me when I had questions about the antibiotics. In my opinion, I think the nurses that work in the NICU should be the sweetest, most nurturing beings. I also think they should have patience for the parents because of what they're going through. Most of the nurses were, but this particular nurse made me nervous. I begged Brad to stay the night in the NICU. He said he would. However, after talking more, we realized that us not getting any sleep at all wouldn't benefit Baby A the next day, the day we should be able to take her home. We left closer to midnight that night and returned the following morning at 5:00 a.m.
The next day we waited anxiously to hear if Baby A could come home. The pediatrician on duty had to make that call, and he was in charge of looking at the charts of all the babies in the NICU starting with the sickest babies first. We found out around 1:00 p.m. that we'd finally get to take her home. I can't describe the relief and joy I felt! I cried, but this time it was because I was so overwhelmed and happy. I think my favorite part of that day was getting to hold her without any cords attached. It felt like an eternity since I'd been able to do that. We had to watch a CPR video and sign some papers before we could leave. My dad was so sweet and met us at the exit of the NICU. He took pictures of us leaving the NICU and coming outside with our sweet angel for the first time together as a family.
When we got home, our sweet neighbors were there to take a video of us walking into our house for the first time (my dad had called them and asked them to do that) and my mom was cleaning the inside of our house. And our new chapter of a family of three plus two dogs began then.
The NICU experience messed me up mentally. I still can't drive by the hospital on my way to the farmer's market on Saturdays without tearing up and thinking about that ordeal. I have talked to Baby A many times and told her why she was in the NICU, but I still can't shake the experience and the feelings of what she must have gone through without her mommy and daddy there with her. She was supposed to be under my protective care from the minute she was born. I struggled with feeling like I had failed her and let her down, but I've overcome those feelings. I know that Brad and I did what we thought was the best for her at that time. I learned so much from the experience. And I learned that my sweet baby is so very brave and strong. The NICU experience was obviously not part of my plan, but we survived it and it's all okay. Honestly, it has taken me four months to come to terms with most of it, but if I let my thoughts get away from me, I can easily go back to that time and all the worry, sadness, fearfulness, vulnerability, and sorrow come flooding back. Once again, I've been given an experience that has given me more compassion for others. I can truly say that I know how moms and dads feel that have experienced the NICU. It is scary. It is heartbreaking. And it is something that stays with you. Looking back, I can hardly believe all the decisions Brad and I made from the time labor started to the time we took Baby A home. A ton was thrown at us and we did what we had to. I'm so grateful that the NICU is in the past. Having our family of three at home brings me so much happiness, joy, and love. I am a mom. I have a daughter. And my dream has come true. This is the end of Baby A's IVF story. Now we are enjoying the story of our new family and what a story it has already been.
