#NICUMama

Let's talk about the NICU. Every parent's dreaded dream and the disappointment you feel when you're told that your baby, or babies, won't be going home with you.

Both O and M both had NICU stays. O had to stay in the NICU because she was unable to eat and breathe at the same time on top of being delivered at 34 weeks. My blood pressure was uncontrolled; I was swollen and uncomfortable. We had been in and out of hospital because of my blood pressure for five days before they said, "We NEED to induce you." I was pre-eclamptic. It felt like someone took my heart from out of my chest and just stomped on it. I remember looking at husband and just breaking down into tears. I wanted to carry my baby, especially my first baby, to term. I had hopes of experiencing my water breaking at an unsuspecting time, the excitement and rushing of getting everything together for the hospital and all my hopes turned into a fleeting dream. They induced me that night and the next day at 4:16 pm at 5lbs and 2oz, I had a beautiful baby girl. Thankfully, they allowed for us to do some chest to chest for about 20 minutes until she needed to go to the NICU. The waterworks continued when she was no longer in our room. I had mom guilt to the fullest; I was disappointed that my body had failed me and O. I was disappointed in the fact that my body did not want to keep me healthy enough to bring her to term and there started the depression. If you've ever been induced, you know about all the drugs they give you to induce you, and I felt like I was drunk. I had to be wheeled in a wheelchair, they kept me hooked up to IV fluids, and everything seemed topsy turvy. We visited the NICU almost every chance we got; I would pump and take her milk to her, participated in all the cares, and really take advantage of the chest to chest, but I could not shake the shame, guilt, and disappointment. I was discharged in three days; O, however, was not. Packing up our room, taking the bags that we had packed for her discharge in tow, and tears streaming from my face. I never expected to not be able to take my baby home. The walk down the hallway to leave was never ending, the drive home was quiet and filled with tears. For seven long days, we were without our baby; we would visit her every night and the staff was amazing with providing us with updates and goals. My husband was my rock, he kept me sane and he kept me going. The feeling of leaving the hospital without a child is one of the most intense feeling of sadness I have ever experienced. On the seventh day, O was discharged! She thrived in and after the NICU and that was with the help of the NICU staff. She was meeting milestones and captivated our hearts.

With M, we had a scheduled induction date to prevent pre-eclampsia. Regardless of all the safeguards we had in place, I was induced early yet again. All the signs were pointing to another induction, and I was able to accept that due to what we went through with O. I was in and out of the hospital for days before, I started swelling, and you know the story. I did not have to have the magnesium drip, so thankfully I didn't have to deal with the that hangover feeling. They induced me early in the morning and by 10:55 pm, I had a 7lb and 11oz, (full of hair). Everything was going great, she was able to stay in the room with us, we had ample amounts of (uninterrupted) bonding time, and for the first time as a second time mother, I didn't have the guilt that I had associated with induction. But a new trauma came in a different form. While we were sleeping, we heard gurgling coming from M's bassinet, we quickly turned on the lights and saw that she was a bluish-purple. I remember saying through the call light, "My baby is blue." And a slew of nurses, nurse practitioners, and doctors were in our room in what felt like seconds. They swept her up and put her in the incubator and tried to reassure me that everything was fine. Obviously, I didn't believe them. They gave her oxygen and next thing I know, they are whisking her off to the NICU. Everything was distorted and felt like it was all slow motion. I couldn't sleep at all that night. We were in the NICU the same night, visiting with her. The doctors came in, stating they didn't know why that happened but she was doing better. They still wanted to keep her overnight. Then she developed a fever and they ran all the tests and could not determine why she had a fever. Hundreds of tests, no answers, and we went home baby-less again. Another defeating moment, another moment of feeling that I and my body did something wrong. I was questioning everything. Why is this happening to us? Did I feed her wrong? Did I not burp her enough? Millions of questions racing through my brain and no answers. Three days later, no answers as to why she randomly developed a fever, but she was able to come home.

The NICU journey was a difficult one, but one that could be overcome. I know it feels like your world is crashing, seeing your newborn being so helpless and defenseless and feeling like there's nothing you can do for them. The best thing you can do: do their cares and let them know that you are there fighting with them. You may not think that they cannot feel it, but I'd like to believe they can. Babies are resilient and they get it from you. If you are a mama (or daddy) reading this and you are currently on a NICU journey, remember to stay strong and keep your hope alive. Grieve the moments that you lost out on, but embrace the moments and times to come. Speak up if you have concerns, ANY CONCERNS AT ALL, take part in your newborn's care, hold their hand, hold your partner's hand (if applicable), and most importantly, take care of yourself. Remember, YOU GOT THIS.

❤️