a celebration of life

Some days were harder than others in the NICU.  A particularly emotional day for me was a Saturday at the end of August for which my baby girl shower had been scheduled.  The invitations had gone out early in the summer, only to be cancelled.  The teal maternity dress I had picked-out for the event was boxed up with the tags still on it.  Instead of gathering with friends to show off my big round belly, I was sitting in the hospital alone, watching Celeste in her isolette.  The two of us had been struggling a little that day.  I tried to hold her but her monitors kept sounding off.  The nurses suggested that I let her rest instead.  It pained me enormously to feel so helpless about mothering my own baby.  

I don't mean to constantly make all of my NICU stories tragic and dramatic, but the truth is that it was  very HARD on me.  A lot of darkness surrounded those days of separation.  In my sorrow I held fast that my reunion with my baby would come, but it did not ease the heaviness of my heart.

Fast-forward to the beginning of October, about two-weeks after Celeste's homecoming.  My sweet mother rescheduled the shower and we honored our little hero.  It was a little different than the traditional baby shower; Celeste was present, albeit mostly hidden to avoid contact that could compromise her immune system.  But despite all of these differences, many friends shared in our joy and helped us celebrate our little girl's life.  We oooh-ed over all of the pink outfits and ate delicious treats.  We chatted about sleep deprivation and swapped stories about newborns.  It was a beautiful day and I am so very grateful to my mom for giving us the opportunity to smile and to CELEBRATE.  I am also very grateful to God for the time I have been granted here on earth, to love and to cherish my little girl.

happy, healthy, whole and HOME

Our beautiful daughter came home on September 22, 2015, after a 50-day stay in the NICU, weighing in at 5lbs 10oz.

But let me back up a bit.

The last couple of weeks were HARD.   We started off week 5 with a few days full of momentum.  The doctors and nurses were pleased and everybody anticipated as Celeste approached 35-weeks gestation she would soon be ready for her homecoming.  Unfortunately, by the end of her 5th week Celeste's progress completely stalled.  Breastfeeding was improving, but bottle feeding was taking a dive.  I was only allowed to breastfeed once a day so the majority of her breastmilk was still being given via feeding tube.   We were told to be patient, and that it was Celeste's way of telling us that she was not yet ready to come home.  It was miserable and very frustrating.  Our hearts ached for our healthy daughter.  We felt more and more confident that we could meet her needs at home, which made the separation between us all the more intense.

At the end of the week Celeste was assigned to a different nurse whom I will forever be grateful to. This nurse was curious about why Celeste was losing interest in bottle feeding.  She told me about a preemie that she had recently cared for who did not like the taste of the calorie fortifier that was added to the breastmilk to help with weight gain.  She asked me if I was OK with letting Celeste take a bottle without the fortifier, as an experiment to see if it helped her meet her feeding goals.  Honestly, I would have agreed to pumping while standing on my head if she thought that it could help.  Luckily the nurse's hypothesis proved correct.  Because Celeste's sophisticated palate was finally pleased and she easily finished her entire fortifier-free bottle.    Praise the Lord, we were finally on our way again.

I spent hours admiring her entire face for the FIRST TIME!

On Monday September 21st Celeste pulled out her feeding tube on her own.  Our nurse that day left it out to see how she would do without it.  As the day progressed positively, I was told that maybe, possibly, hopefully, we would be discharged the following day if Celeste had a good night and woke up on her own for her feedings.  A new night-nurse was assigned to Celeste, so I did my best to give her my warmest gratitude for her care.  Actually, it was more like groveling and pleading her to help us accomplish our goal of being discharged.  She proved herself to be one of those NICU angels and promised me that Celeste would do great and that I should go home and get some rest.

After sleeping for approximately zero-minutes, I got up next morning counting the minutes until the 830AM shift-change.  That is when the neonatologists make their rounds and when the doctor-on-call would hopefully sign-off on our discharge.  At 9AM sharp I called the NICU.  I recognized the nurse manager on the line, and cut right to the chase.  I asked if I could take my baby home today.  The nurse manager paused and I could hear her consulting with somebody in the room.  She came back on the line and delivered that moment of grace, triumph and joy that I had been waiting for for 7-weeks.  "What time will you be coming to get her?" she asked.

Cue triumphant music.

 Michael stayed home from work and we dropped off the boys with my mom.  We arrived in the NICU with two large cakes and some thank-you notes for our beloved nurses.  One of my favorite nurses was taking care of Celeste, which was like frosting on my own happy-cake.  We signed forms, listened to discharge instructions, and disconnected Celeste from her monitors.  I could finally pick up my baby and stand more than a foot away from machinery.   

I was surprised at how difficult it was to say goodbye to our nurses.  As we walked out I was overcome with tears of gratitude towards the women who had held, nourished and cared for my child for the past seven weeks.  I will never miss the NICU, but I do miss the people there.  I still often wonder how they are.  I miss having constant companions to share in my baby's small accomplishments, and I wish I could show them what a difference they have made in our little girl's life.  They truly are hidden miracle workers.

Our moment happened in the early afternoon.  It was different than I had hoped for.  I didn't get to be pushed in a wheelchair, exhausted from labor and proudly holding my baby girl.  In our case, I had met my baby 50-days earlier.  I had already spent hours examining her ten tiny fingers and stroking her fine hair.  I never went into labor, and I had already had my 6-week postpartum appointment so I was walking just fine despite my sore incision.  But regardless of the unanticipated details, our story still mattered.  Our story still matters now, with this earliest chapter behind us.  Celeste and I overcame so much.  And here we were, both of us here and healthy, and finally together.  And going HOME.

It was the happiest of homecomings.