>NICU: The 1st NIght

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If I had the time, energy, and emotional stability this is what I would have written about Logan's stay in the NICU right after he was born. I have to write about this so it does not eat away at my emotions and anxiety. It is a strange feeling, having had a baby in the NICU who is perfectly healthy now. For whatever reason, I can't shake the awful emotions I avoided while he was there. They are catching up to me and making my post-pardum recovery harder.

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At 6:37pm on February 8, 2010, I became a mother. Not the same kind of mother I was while my baby thrived and grew inside of me. But the kind of mother who is hearing her son's cry for the first time, seeing his big blue eyes for the first time, and falling so deeply in love with her son the tears won't stop and the kisses to daddy are endless.

"Look what we did!"

"I'm so proud of you, Sarah!"

"He's beautiful!"

...

"His breathing is rough, let's put some O2 on him..."

"He needs to go to the nursery for closer observations. Should only be an hour or so. Congratulations!"

...

I vaguely remember the doctor telling B it was time to cut the cord. Logan was here and he was screaming. I could only think his screaming was a good thing. It meant he was breathing. The pediatric team quickly assessed Logan's breathing. Though it was a great thing that he was crying, they worried he was trying a little too hard. I in such a state of bliss and happiness that I did not question what they were saying nor did I worry. My mind was numb with euphoria from just having gave birth to my baby boy.

B kissed me and went with Logan to the warmer. I was still crying as the doctor stitched me up and changed my bedding and clothes. Once the pediatric team decided it was time to go to the nursery, B went with Logan and, though I was missing an entire hour with my new baby, I figured that was nothing and soon we would be joined together again in my pp room. It did not sink in until we were home, nearly 5 days later, that the one thing I wanted more than anything from our birth plan was that first hour with my son: Logan laying on my chest, rooting for my breast, caressing his sweet cheeks, sharing this little creature with B all alone. No bathing, no testing, no prodding, no interventions. Just us. This still brings tears to my eyes imagining what it would have been like to lay skin-to-skin with Logan and staring at him while he stared back at me. We never got that time and it breaks my heart.

I watched the clock and nearly an hour and a half had passed before I heard anything from the pediatric team or since I last saw B leave with Logan. Time passed so quickly the entire day I labored and the two hours that I pushed felt like 15 minutes. That is until I was separated from my child who spent 9 months inside of me. I was empty and he was not even in my arms yet. I tried not to worry. My new nurse told me that everything should be okay and that is very common for babies to need a little O2 before coming back to mom. She did a great job distracting me while she cleaned up our things and prepared for my move into Woman's Care.

Twenty minutes before my move, B returned to the room and I won't forget the fear I saw in his eyes. Logan was in trouble and it was written all over B's face but I held strong. I did not want to cry without knowing the details first.

"He has a blah blah blah...hole in his lung blah blah blah...X-Ray...."

His words made no sense to me. I was on the edge of losing it when the on-call Ped came in and explained what B was trying to say all along. Logan had a hole in his lung. A HOLE IN HIS LUNG?! How the hell does that happen? Will he need surgery? Is there permanent damage? All these questions formed in my mind but never made it past my lips. All I wanted was to see my babe and kiss his little fingers and tell him mommy was here and everything was going to be okay. But I had to wait.

Once I was moved to Women's Care, my nurse, whom I loved, had to take my vitals, help me pee, sign some forms, change my socks....it was endless. When was I going to see my baby?! In fact, now that I think about it, the time between the Ped leaving my Labor and Delivery room and when I was finally being wheeled into the NICU is a complete blur. I had yet to cry or say or think what I was really feeling. If I had to guess, I was probably praying the whole time that my baby would be okay. I don't even remember if B was already in the NICU or if he walked with us. Three hours later...

Dimly lit, littered with nurses in blue scrubs, beeping heard all around and gentle whispers occupied the NICU. I remembered our tour of the hospital when I was 28 weeks pregnant and how they walked us past the NICU. We stopped and our tour guide explained what happens in the NICU and the type of babies who end up there: sick babies and premature babies. I distinctly remember thinking that we would surely never need the NICU. Boy was I wrong.

Logan was in crib 18. A cute Koala bear picture hung above his warmer. He was not in an isolate and I was immediately relieved his needs were not that serious. But he had a plastic hood over his head that fed him 100% O2. My legs were still quite numb from the epidural and I wanted more than anything to stand and scoop my baby to my breast and hold him tight. The moment I touched his little fist the tears came and did not stop. The NICU nurse was messing with all the cords he was attached to and Logan fussed from being touched and disturbed from the shallow sleep he had been in when we arrived. I told him I loved him and that everything would be okay in between the loud sobs and silent prayers I was saying.

At 10:30pm, x-ray techs returned to do a second x-ray on Logan's chest. We were shoved back to the "safe-zone" and my vision blurred with tears as Logan's scream escalated as the nurse spread his arms apart and held him down. My heart was breaking, watching my son endure what no 3 hour old baby should be going through. Moments later were were back by his side, caressing his soft skin and kissing his fists. After 20 minutes, the x-ray was back and I was wheeled over to the digital screen where I could see Logan's chest on the screen. At this point, Dr. P, the most incredible neonatologist on this side of the Mississippi, had arrived to see what our little Logan needed. His second x-ray was a little worse than his first, showing more air trapped between his lung and chest cavity. I felt the wind get knocked out of my own chest and the blood in my head drain. My baby boy was sick. Dr. P explained our two options and gave us little hope that the first, a needle aspiration of the chest, would work leaving a chest tube and warranting at least a week in the NICU the fate of our son. But we did not give up faith that the needle aspiration would fail. We just prayed harder.

B asked if we could stay for the procedure and while Dr. P said he could if he wanted to, we really shouldn't. It was not something a parent would want to see their child go through and I was convinced it was time to kiss my baby for the night and pray over and over again that he would be healed and that he would not feel any pain. B and I returned to my room. I got as comfortable as one can get after giving birth and sustaining a 2nd degree tear. B sat on the bed next to me and we just stared at each other until we both broke down. Now if you know B, you know he is not a crier. Sure he can be a sensitive guy but in the 3 years we have been together (TODAY is our anniversary!) I have only seen him cry 4 times. We sobbed together for several minutes before composing ourselves, praying some more, and believing in our heart of hearts that Logan was going to get through this.

By the time we turned the lights off and my nurse checked on me once more, it was after midnight and I had been awake for 28 hours. My brain and body were both so exhausted it was not hard to put my worried thoughts aside to get some sleep, only to be roused 2 hours later for another vitals check. We had been told that Logan would have another x-ray to see if the needle aspiration had worked at 4am. Two more hours of sleep and the phone rang. Logan's lung was healing and they did not think he would need a chest tube. It was still up in the air if another aspiration would be necessary as there was still a small pocket of air left, but Dr. P was confident that he was healing and a 10am x-ray would tell us even more. B and I were so elated! We slept another two hours, ordered breakfast and paged the nurse to see our babe.

Logan's first night in the NICU was one of the best and worst nights of my life. I was so proud to be a mother, but felt so helpless seeing him hooked up to machines and IVs. Being so tired, both mentally and physically, I only updated our parents on Logan's condition and did not think twice to update all our other friends and family who were waiting to hear if Logan had arrived yet. I only felt guilty about that for 5 minutes until I realized our focus on Logan was more important than keeping everyone else updated. I wanted to tell everyone, I just could not pick up the phone to text or update FB.

Day 2-4 coming soon...