Our Nicholas is finally home, and although I have so many thoughts that I would like to process and write (and plan to eventually), it would not be fair to leave our tough little man's accomplishments in the NICU undocumented.
Although we were never left hopeless, the moments after Nicholas's birth were quite difficult on him (and us). As I pushed our beautiful boy out, we heard no crying and Nicholas was not handed immediately to Mom or Dad, as our other boys were. I was relieved to see him moving as the OB gave him to the Neonatologist, but anxious about his blue coloring and lack of cries. The neonatal crew resuscitated Nicholas and my own body exhaled as I heard those distinct infant squeals. My worries were not relieved however, as the neonatal doctors and nurses took my baby away from us (Michael was not allowed to follow immediately).
Michael, our doula and I sat very quietly in the delivery room for about thirty minutes after, trying to process the labor and birth that had happened so quickly and so unexpectedly. The neonatologist did come back with an update, and Michael followed him to the NICU immediately to meet our baby boy while I stayed in the delivery room to try to recover from birthing and eat (I was exhausted and famished).
Nicholas was struggling to breath. At 34 weeks and 5 days gestation with a very healthy pregnancy, his lungs had not had the chance to fully develop (babies under stress during a pregnancy typically have more developed respiratory systems). A C-PAP (continuous positive airway pressure) machine was helping our baby breath and managing his oxygen levels. Because Nicholas needed respiratory support he would be unable to breastfeed in the near future, and so he also had IV fluids keeping him stable until he could be ready for tube feedings.
It was very difficult for me to be wheeled into the NICU to see my baby who had just moments before been safe in my womb, now struggling and covered in tubes, cords and monitors. I was not allowed to pick him up, to sing to him or to nurse him as I would when my other children had been sick. I had never even seen what his face and body looked like. I felt very helpless as I watched him through the incubator and touched him for the first time. I felt his chest rising and falling, and was reminded of how precious and fragile life is. I felt gratitude in the hope that he would make it through and be a healthy baby, but also fear and worry in what kind of road it would take to arrive there. More than anything, the pain of separation was overwhelming. My body felt empty, without him in me or even in my arms. I was grateful that my sheer exhaustion from 24-hours of labor kept me distracted for that first night.
Within a day, we made small steps that helped remind us that this was a temporary journey. A day after his birth I held my baby for the first time. I let him wrap his tiny hand around my fingers, felt his soft head under my hands and let my body warm him instead of the incubator. I looked at his face and tried to imagine it whole, without the c-pap machinery on his head. I prayed for him, and wished that I could help ease his discomforts as he whimpered softly and breathed unevenly.
Nicholas needed the C-PAP for four days, and once he became more stable they changed his support to a nasal canula. The nasal canula still provided pressure and oxygen, but we could finally see more of his face, and he was a much happier baby without a cumbersome headpiece on. In the midst of our worries and separation anxiety, it was a joy to see his face.
We were anxious to be able to hold him more, but still had limited time together. His jaundice levels required him to be under the phototherapy light for 48-hours, taking a couple of 30-minute breaks to snuggle with me. During this time Nicholas also took his first bottle; another small step towards bringing him home.
On December 31, almost one-week after being admitted into the NICU, Nicholas was weaned off of the nasal canula and breathing all on his own. We were so proud of our little fighter, and so happy to see his face.
He was also taken off of IV fluids and was taking most of his pumped breast milk feedings through gavage feeding, or a feeding tube. I was able to breastfeed Nicholas for the first time (he latched on great!), and although leaving him in the hospital was still just as heartbreaking, we were seeing light at the end of the tunnel, and starting to prepare for his arrival at home.
Soon after Nicholas was also weaned from the incubator into a bassinet. This was more of a gift than I had imagined, because now I could easily pick up my baby unassisted whenever I wanted. It was easy to kiss him, talk to him and visit him. I could change his diapers without having to maneuver through the small incubator windows, take his temperature, and help with all of the typical baby care. He was feeling more and more like my baby, rather than a hospital patient.
From here on out came another long few days, as we waited for Nicholas to take in his feedings by breast and bottle, instead of relying on his feeding tube. Preemies tire very easily, so although our boy would wake up hungry, after a few minutes of sucking he would become exhausted. In some ways this was the most frustrating time for me-- he was so close to coming home! I was convinced that if I could simply hold him all day, he would breastfeed frequently and thrive. Unfortunately, the NICU staff required much more patience from me!
Two days before his discharge, Nicholas took the breast and bottle for almost 60% of his feedings. The next day, his feeding tube was removed and he did a wonderful job taking in 100% of his feedings. The following morning, he was ours to take home.
Thanks be to God
for our healthy child, for a wonderful NICU staff, for my marriage and for all of the family, friends and prayers that brought us through these past 14-days.
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