With the cold air and snow back with a vengeance, I am remembering back to last year at this time when I started bleeding. This was the second time, so I went back to the hospital fully expecting to be admitted and spend the next month in bed. Certainly not having a baby, since I was only 32 weeks pregnant. But unlike the first visit to the hospital two weeks earlier, this time the bleeding didn’t stop.
I was scared. My husband was quiet at the side of the bed. The bleeding continued.
Suddenly, the quiet room welcomed a parade of medical staff. The OB/GYN was there to check me out. Someone from the NICU came to answer questions about the baby. Nurses came in to have me sign consent forms. And then, the Anesthesiologist came in to let me know what was about to happen. It was then that I realized…this was it. The baby was really coming.
I was terrified. It was too soon. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
But it was happening. The next hour was a total blur. My baby boy was delivered by C-section. He gave the doctor a hard time coming out – she even called him a brat. I got a brief glimpse of my cute little guy, who was obviously struggling to breathe, and then he was whisked off to the NICU.
I couldn’t wait to get patched up and go see him.
This is where I learned I would have to wait 12 hours to see my son. 12 hours!!?? What kind of sick joke is that? I honestly still don’t understand this timing. Thankfully, my husband was able to Skype with me so I could see my son. But the images of him hooked up to wires, an IV, a CPAP… were heartbreaking. I wanted to be with him. I felt so bad for him. He was warm and cozy with Mommy and then ripped out before he was ready.
Now, he was in pain. Fighting to breathe. All alone.
I think the loneliness part was what hurt me the most. I couldn’t be with him and he was alone. My husband wanted to be with me and I wanted him to be with the baby.
He needed us. He needed me. I longed to be next to him. To ease his pain. To whisper that everything was going to be okay.
Finally, hours and hours later, the moment came. I could go see my son. They wheeled me up to the NICU and I got to see my tiny baby boy for the first time. It was bitter sweet.
A lot of this experience still haunts me. The realization that the baby was coming. The first moment I saw him. The time in the recovery room wishing I was with him. The images I saw via Skype.
And it’s crazy because rationally, I know that my son is fine. He is going to live his life like this never happened to him. Because really, it happened to me. And I will never completely shake it.
Please like and share. Then read more about the 7 Emotions of a NICU mom.
