Baby Comes Home from the NICU
After 15 long days, I am happy and relieved to say that my son was finally released from the NICU yesterday. I had been with him the previous night doing Care by Parent in a room off the NICU unit. Finally just baby and me. No nurses. No cords or machines. No strangers passing through. Just us.
He had been taking food well from the staff, but now he had to show he would eat as well with me before he went home. The pressure was on. Eat, little guy. Just eat and we can get out of here! If he didn’t do well or gain weight, the doctor would add another day until he did.
After a sleepless night of feedings and anxiety, we passed the “test” and it was over. As we were leaving, one of the nurses said that although her kids were grown, there is still nothing like having all of your children safe and sound under one roof. Truer words were never spoken. My family would be together and complete.
I can’t say I didn’t struggle during the last two weeks. I knew that my baby had issues common to premature infants that would eventually resolve. But honestly, it was tough watching other 35 weekers come and go within days. I began to wonder why my son was still struggling. He just seemed so fragile.
As the days wore on, I began to wonder if he even knew who I was. He was around the hospital staff more than me. Did he know my smell? Did he remember my voice from the womb? Had he forgotten the sound of my heartbeat? Did he know I was “mom” or was I just another person in the sea of caretakers?
In my efforts to stay connected, I would sometimes do skin-to-skin time with him. It was behind closed curtains with nurses in and out and other visiting families within earshot. Not exactly an intimate setting. I longed to cuddle with him in the privacy and comfort of my own home, without the sounds of beeps and alarms from the monitors he was attached to.
But suddenly he began to make rapid progress. Before I knew it, his feeding tube came out and he was on his way home two days later. What a ride!
As our NICU experience ends, I want to express my gratitude to the nurses who took such good care of my son. To the nurse with the soothing southern accent who always gave him the cute little Mohawk, talked to him so sweetly, and showed such affection to our boy: thank you! To the kind nurse who was always rooting for us, offered encouragement and gave me advice and tips on getting him to stay awake during his feeds: thank you! To the nurse who on several occasions took the time to talk to us, answer our questions, and gave us detailed information in words we could understand: thank you! And to the occupational therapist that spent extra time helping me learn to feed a tired, struggling preemie: thank you! Knowing he was being well cared for by the NICU nurses assigned to him made it so much easier leaving my son in their care.
Last night (his first night home), I didn’t sleep much. He’s decided he wants to change his eating schedule from every 3 hours to every hour and a half or so, just in time for mommy. And he refused to sleep in his bassinet. Needless to say, I have begun my descent into zombie land that I will not return from until well into the summer. But as I looked into his wide-open eyes at 3 in the morning, I smiled and gently placed him on my chest. All was finally right with the world. I thought: There is no place I’d rather be. Except for my bed. Sleeping. Sleeping sounds really nice about now. Or maybe a night nurse. Hey, even loving mothers need their sleep!
