Our daughter Elsie was born October 14, 2009. A "28 weeker" weighing in at 760 grams, or 1 lb 9 oz. She was a micro preemie and our first child. I had been reading books about how to get your baby on a routine so she will sleep through the night and bringing your baby home from the hospital. I had not prepared for the NICU, or to be a mom to a micro preemie. How were we going to do this?
The answer the nurse gave me was one day at a time. In the NICU you learn quickly that every day is a new day. One day your child may be doing well, and the next day you are given news you never expected to hear. People tell you it is a rollercoaster, and that was exactly true for us. An emotional rollercoaster unlike anything we had ever experienced or knew existed. It is what it is, and you cannot change it. You just have to get through. Day by day.
Once Elsie stabalized, the nurses let my husband and I do as much "parenting" as we could. At first, this meant changing diapers and taking her temperature. I changed my first diaper on Elsie's 11th day of life. It was a dirty diaper. I never thought I would be so excited to change a dirty diaper, but I was. The nurse showed me how she changes their diapers, saying "This is how I do it. If you want to do it another way, that's fine too." I had never changed a diaper before. So I did as she instructed, lifting her tiny body off the bed of her isolette so I could get the clean diaper under her bottom. Then remove the dirty diaper, wipe, and put on new diaper. I was thrilled! I did it! With all of those wires, tubes, etc. coming off of her. "Good job, Mama" the nurse said.
I was spending as much time in the NICU as I could stomach. It is not an easy place to be. You hear and see things that no one should. For me, something happened that I absolutely did not expect. I became friends with the nurses. They asked about our families, how I was doing, is there anything they could do for me, for us? They were concerned with not only providing excellent care to our child but with our personal well being also. They understood that if we were okay, the better chances our daughter had.
It took me about two weeks to get over the initial fear. Then I decided I was going to learn as much about baby care, my child's sickness, her routines, her mannerisims. I needed to learn it all. A wise, seasoned, NICU nurse told me one day, "It is great you get to spend so much time here; you will already know your child's needs and wants when she goes home and we're not there to help." That is when it hit me. One day she is going to get out of here. I'm going to have to know how to take care of her and whatever issues she may have.
At around Day 12 or 13 of life, I got to hold my daughter for the first time. For preemie parents out there, you will know this is called Kangaroo care, or Skin to Skin. A nurse got her out of her isolette, made sure all of her wires would reach the chair I was reclining in, and then she stuck my daughter under my shirt so my body heat would keep her warm. In the pictures you can barely see her little head peeking out of my shirt. I zipped up my jacket and placed one hand firmly on her bottom and the other on her head. We sat like that for over an hour.
This was my routine for months. Go to the NICU, take her temp, change her diaper, Kangaroo care. Twice a day I would do this. My husband would try and get to the NICU before shift change when he got off work and go talk to her. He held her hand and talked to her as many times week as he could.
I worked with the nurses, so everyone knew my routine. This way if they were going to do something new that day they knew what time I would be there so I could see, if possible. Even if it was only putting saline drops in her nose to relieve the congestion from her
CPAP. They knew I wanted to know it all. They were a wealth of information for a new mother. I was beginning to feel fortunate that I had such teachers. I started to feel like we would be professional baby caretakers by the time she got her home.
Around Thanksgiving is when things started to progress. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Elsie started nursing. She got her Sinus CPAP off. The nurses were as or more excited than I was at her progress. By Christmas her
cannula was almost turned down to nothing, and she was nursing several times a day. We were so close I could taste it.
The nurses continued to provide knowledge and at times, comic relief. "Elsie and I had a play date this morning" or, "Let me tell you what this little girl did." were some of the comments I would hear when I got to her bedside in the morning. I felt like my child was normal, not a preemie trying to get out of the NICU. For us, that was important.
Suddently, Elsie was taking all of her feedings by mouth, her cannula was off, and her feeding tube removed. It all happened so fast. One day the doctor I was closest to said "I'm rotating off service this weekend, so if I don't see you before then. Good bye and good luck." I got teary-eyed. This was it. We were leaving. We did "Care By Parent" one night in the NICU and left the next afternoon. I felt like at any minute the doctor was going to come in and say "I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Bailey, we found something, and you can't take her home yet."
But they didn't. The nurses cried when we left. The wise nurse actually blessed her "in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit" when we got the news. It was amazing. I felt like we deserved a parade. I wanted to ask: "Can confetti rain down from the ceiling as we walk out the door"?
On Day of Life 82, and weighing in at 4 lbs 12 oz, we got to take our baby home. This was January 3, 2010. Only three days before my original due date. Right on schedule. No parade. No fanfare. Just tears of joy. "We'll miss yous," and "You better bring our girl back up here to visit."
And we were ready. Because we had learned it all from the nurses.
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