Just one day shy of 10 months ago, I gave birth to my second baby boy. I was 27 weeks pregnant and literally dying. The pregnancy as a whole got really scary and complicated in my second trimester and just kept getting worse. I was on bedrest because the pregnancy was high risk. I couldn’t take more than five steps without getting so out of breath I would almost pass out. I was drinking obscene amounts of milk to combat what I thought and was told was heartburn. There were days where I couldn’t feel my little guy moving very much. I knew I was having contractions so I was in and out of labor and delivery all to get told that since I “wasn’t screaming in pain and I wasn’t dilating that I wasn’t in labor.” On November 21st at about 8 pm, I noticed the tips of my fingers were dark purple. I called my amazing midwife and she said to go to the hospital so that they could check my oxygen. We agreed that since labor and delivery had basically kicked me out, that I should go straight to the E.R.
With my “posse” in tow, we got to the emergency room. After about five minutes, I was hooked up to all the monitors. They had even sent down a machine to watch my son’s heartbeat from labor and delivery. After about half an hour of being monitored, they couldn’t find my baby’s heartbeat and mine was all over the place. I was then rushed to labor and delivery where I was put on the back burner by the doctor. He even turned off his cellphone because the nurses were trying everything in their power to reach him. At that point my son’s heartbeat was gone and mine was fatally low. My boyfriend was in the hallway yelling for something to be done when, thankfully the doctor who had delivered my oldest stepped in and rushed me to the operating room.
In the operating room, they gave me the epidural and started prepping for a cesarean section. Once everything was in place, they tested me with a needle to see if I could feel it. Believe me when I say, I definitely felt it. When I told the doctor that I could feel it, he solemnly looked at my boyfriend and said “I’m sorry but we don’t have time to wait.” They then began the surgery. It was extremely painful. I felt everything and my instincts kicked in and I wrapped my arms around the arm bars to make sure that I didn’t move at all. At the same time, the nurse was coming around to strap my arms down and with a slight laugh said “well, it looks like she’s got this handled.” That lightheartedness made the situation so much better even for just a second.
After what seemed like forever, and right as the epidural kicked in, they finally got my baby out. They immediately got him intabated because he couldn’t yet breathe. The rest was a blur for me but my boyfriend told me that they let him take pictures and even a video once he finally took a breath and cried!
The doctor and some nurses stitched me up, and they immediately took me to the NICU where I got to see my 4 pound 6 ounce little fighter for the first time. I sadly still don’t remember it and that breaks my heart. Everyone says that I kept saying “Is he ok? Will my baby be ok?” Little did I know that was the start of a heartbreaking and scary two months.
He was in our local hospital’s NICU for about a month. If you have never had a baby in the NICU just know that you are blessed beyond measure. It is the most heartbreaking thing in the world to know that your baby is miles away barely clinging to life and you can’t do anything about it except sit by his side. We also had our oldest who was a year old at the time at home, so we would wait until he was asleep (his grandma would watch him every night) and we would go to the hospital for as long as possible. We held him every second we got, and for awhile it seemed like he would get to come home soon. But then everything changed. For the last two weeks he was there, he was septic and had to be in quarantine in the NICU. That meant there was bad bacteria in his blood which at his size could mean he wouldn’t make it. It kept getting worse and worse everyday. At one point they thought he had meningitis and so he had to have a spinal tap to test the spinal fluid. For a grown adult that procedure is excruciating. When we got that call I broke down even further.
The next month of his life was spent at Primary Children’s hospital. That was 45 minutes away for us. He went by ambulance and all we knew was that he possibly needed heart surgery for a bacteria clot in one of his valves. Later we found out that we were VERY lucky he made it through the trip. We arrived to Primary’s before he did. We would have rode with him but they said it would be quicker to meet them there. He looked so sick in that bassinet. He almost looked lifeless. I spent most of my time bawling and laying in bed barely able to function because the next minute of life for him was never guaranteed. When we were at the hospital, we weren’t even allowed to touch him. Can you imagine being right next to your baby but you can’t even even touch his finger to let him know you are there because it would put him in more pain? All we could do was whisper near him and hope he would recognize our voices. He looked smaller than a baby doll and had even dropped pounds during that.
It was absolutely the hardest thing I have ever gone through. But you know what helped? When you walked in that NICU, there were nurses that you recognized. They weren’t just nurses though, they were family. There were also other families there going through the exact same thing. Families of babies that weren’t in the NICU anymore would reach out to you. At Christmas, they gave our baby a Christmas tree ornament, they gave him stuffed animals, blankets, and more. Those families and nurses would leave notes with their contact information, letting you know that they knew just what you were going through and that it was ok to reach out.
After that month in Primary’s, we got the call that FINALLY our boy was ready to come home! He was eating, he was gaining weight, he passed his car seat test, and he was ready! There was a two day process to go through because he came home with a picc line and a feeding tube. The picc line is basically an IV that ran directly to his heart to administer antibiotics 23 hours everyday. The feeding tube was there just in case he couldn’t finish his breast milk on his own. His dad and I watched a cpr video and practiced. We watched a video on purple crying (crying even when nothing is wrong) and how to indentify it. We went through training for his picc line and how to care for it. We went through training with the feeding tube and learned how to insert it properly if it came out. We stayed overnight at the hospital with a nurse just a button away to make sure we didn’t need help. Then on his due date, we got to put him in his car seat and finally make the trek home with him!
To all the parents out there going through the NICU journey, just know you are NOT alone. There is an entire community of veteran NICU parents standing with you, including myself. I know what you are going through. I know right now it seems like there is no light at the end of the tunnel. I know you come home and see all the baby things and you cry because your baby should be home with you. I understand how hard it is to not hold your baby every second. Trust me when I say, you can get through this! Your baby is a little fighter! There IS a light at the end of the tunnel. Your baby will be at home with you soon! Just keep moving forward! Trust your baby’s care team! Have faith in your tiny miracle! If you need to reach out please please do! My email is surelyitsmadness@gmail.com and I WILL respond. You can do this!
By far the best post yet. Brought tears to my eyes. Just looking back on that time of my little Loki loo's journey into this world.
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