Life in the NICU

After Carrick's sudden birth, I never really was given a chance to let my brain catch up to what had happened. I was thrown headlong into mommy mode. Not only was I in mommy mode, I was in "I have a preemie in the hospital" mode. This was a totally different way of being mommy than most women get to experience. In some ways it was a blessing, and in other ways it really stretched my boundaries. A blessing? How could that be? Well, for a short answer, someone else changed all his diapers for the first month. That was probably the only blessing, aside from the fact that I never got "really big, uncomfortably waddling pregnant." Hey, when your child is two months early, you can either look at the silver linings, or get bogged down by how horrible it must feel to be separated from your child.

So, in the first week that I was a "NICU Mom" as one of the nurses put it, my in-laws decided to drive out and help us in the first week of our son's life. They stayed with us in the family house across from the hospital (in the same room). It was nice to have someone to to laundry, cook food and run errands for us so that we could focus on being parents in the stressful circumstance that we found ourselves in. On the other hand, it was quite difficult to pump my breasts in the shared room. My father-in-law would see me pulling out the electric pump that the hospital had given me and he'd leave the room without asking. It was especially wierd at night when I'd have to get up in the wee hours to pump because I'd be leaking all over the bed if I didn't. I would sit there in the chair, with the horns on, and do my thing, hoping that nobody woke up.

I was exceedingly grateful for them being there for another very big reason. While they were visiting, they attended the United Methodist church and told the congregation why they were there as visitors. At the end of the service, a retired couple came up to speak to them. They shared that the man was a (nearly) retired pediatrician and they lived just down the street from the hospital. They too had had a premature child and knew what it was like for the parents. They offered up their spare bedroom to me for after the in-laws would leave. They didn't want me to be alone at the family house. Corey would have to go back to work and live in Sedona during the week. And since it was winter, commuting up the switchbacks after work each night would be near suicide. My in-laws took me to their house and intoduced us  the day before they were scheduled to leave. I really liked the couple and felt comfortable staying with them. We moved my stuff over there before they left the next day.

So I spent the next month living in a bedroom by myself. My son at the hospital, and my husband down in Sedona. We only got to see eachother on the weekends, which put an incredible strain on our relationship. We managed to get through it, but we really had to keep in touch, both in person and on the phone. Corey would come up late on Saturdays after getting off at Elote, and stop by the NICU to hold Carrick and get some one-on-one time with him before coming to the house.

Meanwhile, I was learning how to breastfeed a preemie. There was a whole technique to it. I was really suprised to learn that the motion I saw him making with his mouth the day before the in-laws left was the rooting reflex. It's what babies do when they are looking for mommy to feed them. The nurses were also suprised because infants that young don't usually show signs of rooting until much later. After all, he should still be in utero, not on the outside nursing. I had a really good lactation consultant and a very patient nurse work with me to start the breastfeeding process after only a week after Carrick's birth. Because he was so tiny, he couldn't just start nursing. I had to pump my breasts first, so that he would not choke. He didn't have the swallowing reflex down yet, so if milk did come out, it would choke him. So we would do a dry nurse. Pumping first, then feeding him pumped milk with the syringe (throught the NG tube) while he "nursed". That way, he would get the idea that when he does the sucking motion, food goes into his tummy. After about a week of doing this, we started to see if he could get the suck/swallow/breathing thing down. He was such a pro at nursing. He did have problems with getting the nipple all the way into his mouth, so we had to use a nipple shield. It extends the length of the nipple to go back far enough into the infant's mouth for better latch during nursing.

It took a lot of patience. I remember thinking "All I want to do is lay down in a bed with Carrick and snuggle." I was so tired of feeding him in a chair. I wanted to be at home, in my own bed, watching and adoring my little angel. I was so over hearing the "bling-bling, bling-bling, bling-bling" of the monitors of all the babies around me. I was done with being under dim flourecent lights. I wanted to see my baby in the sunlight. I had no idea what color his hair really was, or his eyes. Everything looked unnatural in the semi-lit NICU. I was so over leaving my baby to go to the house to take naps. I had to remember to take care of myself too, like eating and sleeping. I didn't want to be one of those 'martyr moms' who holds up and spends every second in the NICU. I knew I would go insane if I didn't remember to care for myself. I would take an hour or so and even go shopping sometimes, just to gather my thoughts and not get overwhelmed.

Corey and I were also taught about kangaroo care as a NICU parents. The nurses told us that skin-to-skin contact with our premature son would help him in ways that just hoding with blankets could not. If he was to be held against my chest, he could not only share my warmth, but hear my hearbeat more clearly, smell me, and biochemically bond to me. This is something that ALL babies benefit from, so make sure to spend some time with them when they only have on a diaper. It is especially important for preemies to experience this. Because they are so young and vulnerable. Having a parent hold them in such an intimate way communicates to them that they are safe and allows them to be in a more relaxed state.

The second week in the NICU gave us a big suprise in addition to starting nursing. He was moved to an open bed! No longer was he in the isolet. It showed that he was moving along and improving each day. Only infants that meet certain requirements are moved into open beds. By doing so, they are more exposed to what's in the air, noise distractions, etc. However, this also showed that he was able to handle more as he was progressing in his development. No complications, no health issues. Thank goodness!

The third week in the NICU was Valentine's Day and my 27th birthday. Since V-day was on a Saturday, I decided to go down to Sedona and sit at the bar and watch Corey bartend, so at least I could see him on the special day. I spent the night down there with him, and we both drove back the next day. He took me out to a really fancy cottage-turned-resturaunt in Flagstaff called, suprise, The Cottage Place for my brithday. It was really memorable and for a few hours, I was able to forget that I had motherly duties. Carrick was in safe, capable hands at the hospital. I tried to not let myself feel guilty for giving myself a night out for Valentine's Day/Birthday. When we came back to the NICU after our fantastic dinner, there was a little heart ornament with Carrick's picture in it laying by his bed. It was our Valentine's Day gift 'from Carrick'. The ornament is still in his room to this day.

I also bought the first four books of  Harry Potter at a used bookstore with birthday money. I read the entire Sorcerer's Stone book to him for the remainder of his stay in the NICU. The nurses would walk by and smile at my choice of literature. I figured I would read something that was entertaining to me, given my situation. The only thing that really mattered was that I was holding my son, and he was hearing my voice. Mommy and baby together, that's what was truly important. He needed me and I needed him. Taking it one day at a time, we managed to get through it all.

I remembered calling my would-be midwife shortly after Carrick's birth and telling her of my secret fear that I wouln't bond with my baby, given our situation. She told me that bonding is a choice. I can either choose to love my son and hold him, and be there for him, or not to. She was right. As long as I was able to take care of myself, I was able to take care of him (to the extent that being in a hopsital would allow). My sweet little baby, so tiny, yet so strong. I felt a deep, unconditional love for him that I had not known with any other human being. I was definitely a bonded mother. I just kept telling my son that I was proud of him and his progression. Together, we would get him out of there soon.