***There will be pictures of a premature infant in this post*** I want to post a TRIGGER WARNING that this post, and the subsequent parts will detail infertility issues, death, preterm birth, hospital/medical bias, and other subjects that might be triggering for some. There will also be pictures of premature infants which (from personal experience) can be triggering. I will post this at the beginning of each part.*
The next morning I woke up, had breakfast, choked down a cup of mother's milk tea, pumped, got pain medicine, and went to see the baby. I held my stomach, and made the long trek down the hall to the NICU. All the staff was amazed I was walking so soon after surgery, but I was determined to see my baby. They told me because of the bruising her bilirubin was high, so she would need to be under UV lights several times each day for a least an hour. They stated that she had no brain bleeds, a common occurrence with premature babies, and that she was still breathing well on her own. She had a feeding tube in her mouth they told me was put there to prevent air build up in her stomach, and later would be used to feed her. They told me I should talk to her softly, and let her know I was there. I was allowed to put my hand in her pod (what I had begun calling the incubator), and touch her lightly, but not to rub as premature skin is fragile and might tear. They told me she would be in the pod until she was able to regulate her temperature on her own. As she learned to regulate her temperature they would turn the internal pod temperature down a few degrees until she finally didn't need it anymore.
I was so afraid to touch her. I was afraid to do more than look. Someone brought me a chair because they said me standing was making them nervous. I sat and stared at her for about 15 minutes before I was brave enough to touch her. She was so warm! I'm not sure what I was expecting. The temperatures in the pods are regulated to keep the baby's temperature at a safe level. She made a little squeak to let me know she was aware of me, but other than that she was quiet, and content.
I took the time to look around at the other babies that were in the pod baby area. There was another black, young couple to my left, and behind me was a Latino baby in an open crib. I was fascinated by all that was going on. It was still so quiet outside of the hum and beep of electronics. The lights were low. It was strangely peaceful, and daunting. Eventually I went back to my room.
I spent the day resting, pumping, and choking down the awful tea. I had a few friends visit. I took a couple of them down to see the baby. I didn't spend a lot of time in the NICU because I was still pretty tired. That night I went to see the baby one more time before I went to bed. My milk had begun transitioning from colostrum to breastmilk at this point. I brought the milk I had pumped down with me. This second day is vague for me. I think because it was so uneventful it didn't stand out much. Outside of setting alarms to pump I was running on autopilot. I set my alarm for my next pump, and went to sleep.
The next day (day 3) would be my discharge day. I was so apprehensive about leaving. I would be going home without my baby. I had trouble eating. I didn't go to the NICU that morning. The African doctor who saw me on L&D came to see me. He checked my incision site, and remarked on how small and nicely sealed back together the incision site was. He then asked me something I never saw coming, "Mom, why are you not taking the narcotics we prescribed for you?" "I'm pumping for my baby. I didn't want to take the narcotics, and risk her going through withdrawal symptoms," I said. He looked at me and said, "That's not going to happen. It's ok to take these medications if you're pumping. You have to take the narcotics. If you do not take them I will not discharge you." I was so shocked. The Toradol was working well for me. I had no desire to take the narcotics, but I also didn't want to be stuck at the hospital any longer than I needed to be.
When the nurse returned I asked her to give me the Percocet that was prescribed. She asked if I wanted it instead of the Toradol. I told her what the doctor said. I told her that part of me wants to refuse it so I could stay at the hospital with the baby longer. The nurse then told me something amazing. She stated that because my baby was in the NICU the hospital would allow me to stay one extra day at no cost. She said that was their normal policy, and someone should have let me know. She also told me that they could order my discharge medications, and have them delivered to my hospital room before I was discharged the next day. I asked her to do that for me, and still took the narcotic despite my apprehension to do so. The narcotic made it so hard for me to stay awake. I ended up spending the rest of the day sleeping. I woke when my alarm went off to pump, but I was so exhausted I could not do anything else.
The next day (day 4) I refused all medication. I was not having another day like the day before. I pumped, and brought the milk to the NICU. By this point my milk was well transitioned. I was pumping roughly 4-8 oz each pumping session (roughly 20-32 oz). The NICU nurses joked that between me, and the other black mother there we had enough milk to feed all the babies in the NICU, plus a small village. I didn't know then that I had basically caused an oversupply, but I was happy to have the milk because I was adamant I didn't want her having formula if I could avoid it.
When I saw the baby that night it really hit me that this was my last day at the hospital. Once I was home I would be dependent on someone to drive me to the NICU until the doctor cleared me to drive. I wouldn't be able to walk down the hall, and see her whenever I wanted. The NICU nurse talked to me a little. She told me how the baby was doing, and what I could expect over the next few days. She told me they had given her a pacifier to practice suck training with, and the nurse had given her 2 drops of milk by mouth instead of just rubbing it on her lips. She told me the baby loved it.
It made me happy that this nurse cared so much. She was the same nurse from the first night. It was nice to see a familiar face. She could see I was upset, and asked if there was anything I wanted to talk about. I told her I was upset that I was leaving the next day, and that I hadn't been able to hold the baby. I told her I knew her maintaining her temperature plus the lines in her cord were a concern, but I was just upset. The nurse sat quietly for a few minutes looking over the computer, and the baby's current temperature. Finally she looked up and said, "I think you could hold her for a few minutes. If I swaddle her that will protect her cord and lines. You would only be able to hold her for a few minutes, but her temperatures have been stable, and they have already decreased the incubator temperature twice so she's learning to regulate."
I was so shocked I could only shake my head yes. I wanted to try! The nurse carefully prepared the baby for me to hold. I got comfortable in my chair holding my breath in anticipation. When the nurse finally turned around with the swaddled bundle I was so nervous. She was so small, and even with the swaddling there were a lot of tubes and wires sticking out the bottom of the blanket. The nurse placed her gently in my arms, and tears silently slid down my face. She was so pink, and beautiful. Everything I had done and gone through was so worth it for this baby. This baby that was fighting so hard to stay earth side. The nurse asked me if I had my phone so she could use it to take a picture. I didn't have my phone with me, but the nurse used her phone to take pictures, sent me a text, then deleted the pictures from her phone. Grateful doesn't begin to describe how I felt.
Looking like a hot mess express from crying for the last 24 hrs.
That night I went to bed a bundle of nerves. I called my mom and cried. When I got off the phone with her I cried until I finally went to sleep. The next morning I pumped, then was discharged. I went to see the baby one more time, then went home. No car seat. No baby. Just me, and my husband. Headed home to my cats and dog, my sister, and the house that was empty of all things baby.
Thank you for reading this far! This ends the first pregnancy chapter.
Catch up on previous parts here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
The story will continue with the next chapter: Her NICU Journey, Part 1