When Oliver was first born, he was perfect. He even smiled in one of the first pictures we ever took together. I was so groggy from the medication, I wish I remembered that moment better. If I knew I wouldn’t get to hold him for another 12 hours, I would have fought the meds and tried to pay more attention and take it all in more. But I didn’t know, how could I.
The nurses that were working with Oliver started to explain to me that his breathing wasn’t right. Something about breathing too fast and struggling. They said they were going to take him for observation. There was nothing I could do. I was still open on the table. I still had no feeling in most of my body. So Zach went with Ollie and I was taken to recovery. Once again, my chance at a perfect birth story was ruined and I had this overwhelming sense of failure. There was literally nothing I could do. It took what felt like days to get feeling back in my legs, and I wasn’t allowed to leave the recovery room until I did. Finally Zach came in along with a doctor, Dr. Potterjoy, and they explained what was going on.
Oliver had transient tachypnea of the newborn. In short, it means that Oliver was born with some amniotic fluid still in his lungs making it difficult for his lungs to function properly. His breathing was too rapid and his lungs were retracting, going under his ribs, each time he inhaled. As a result, the doctors moved him to the NICU and hooked him up to a CPAP machine. This provided his lungs with pressurized oxygen to help keep them and the little air sacs inside inflated. He also was given IV fluids, got a chest X-ray, had an NG tube inserted, and had numerous blood draws to check for infection, jaundice, and low blood sugar. He was only a few hours old, and already was going through so much.
Once I had finally regained feeling in my lower half, I was told I could be taken to the NICU to see Oliver. I wouldn’t be able to hold him yet, but I could at least do a “drive by” and see him. By some random chance and coincidence, a girl I know from religious school but haven’t seen or talked to other than Facebook in years, was working in the maternity ward that day. She happened to see my parents in the waiting area and went to see what was going on. She was the one who came to take me to my postpartum room, not something she would typically do, and took us to the NICU first. Because she knew me, Zach and I were able to spend a little more time with Oliver than they would typically allow. It wasn’t much, but it meant the world. (Thank you Jamie!)
This was my first experience with NICU nurses. Other than one or two (who weren’t bad, but were just ok), Oliver had amazing nurses! His first nurse was a girl named Mandy. Seeing Oliver hooked up to all the wires and machines and monitors was so scary and overwhelming. Mandy took the time to explain all of it. She made us feel as comfortable as we could. After a little bit, Jamie took us up to the postpartum room and I had to start my recovery.
Nurses came in, introducing themselves, telling me about my care, my recovery, when I would need to get up a walk, when I could eat, everything that was related to me. All I wanted to know was when I could go back and see my son. The nurses also talked to me about trying to express colostrum. Anything I could get was sent to the NICU and given to Oliver. I have absolutely nothing against formula, but I really wanted Oliver to get breastmilk if possible. Since mine hadn’t come in yet, I signed off for him to receive donor milk until it did. Fortunately, it came in pretty quick and I was able to supply my own for him within a few days.
That night, I was allowed to go back to the NICU and visit with Oliver. Zach changed his diaper and his nurse walked us through what his care looked like. Finally, after 12+ hours, I was able to hold my baby boy. It was scary, trying to hold him and navigate around all of the wires and machines, his little face was so scrunched up. His eyes were squeezed close. His body was swollen from all of the fluids. It was such a bittersweet moment. I was so happy to see and hold my son, but so sad and scared to see him looking the way he did.
The doctors came by and talked to us about his prognosis. It was good. Overall, he was a healthy baby, he was just early and needed some help catching up. The emotional side of me was convinced this would be quick and we would all go home together, a happy family, in a few days. The realistic and rational side of me knew that chances were, I would be leaving the hospital empty handed, again.
Each day, we went to see Oliver at least twice a day. We started taking over his care during the times we went. Changing his diaper, bottle feeding him, holding him, taking his temperature. The nurses were great at making us feel involved in his daily care. We tried to get there for rounds at least one of our visits. The doctors were great. We told them about our history, about Stella and Joy, and they were sensitive to our situation. They made sure to tell us how it was, not sugar coating anything, but also reassured us that Oliver was healthy and making lots of little improvements each day.
March 28th, two days after Oliver was born, was a big day! We started the day trying to breastfeed. Oliver really struggled, but the fact that they let me try was a sign that he was already doing better. They took him off the CPAP machine and put him on a nasal cannula instead. The CPAP was removed because his nurse really fought for him. She told the doctors he didn’t need anymore. She told them he was getting stronger, she told them he could handle having a less intrusive support. She fought for my son, and the doctors agreed. In addition, his feeding tube was moved from his mouth to his nose instead. It was such a great morning. When we back later that night, we realized that his IV was gone! The nurses had removed it because it was leaking and he did fine without it, so they decided to leave it out.
. That Morning
. That Night
Even with all of the progress he made that day, we knew that he would not be coming home with us when we left. That was a hard realization, but important for us the understand. I had to keep reminding myself that he was healthy baby, he was just breathing fast. Looking around the NICU, I had to remind myself that we’re lucky. So many of the babies and families had been there for months, and would probably be staying for more. All things considered,our NICU stay paled in comparison to theirs. But, that didn’t make it easier. I still didn’t understand why I couldn’t make and take home a healthy baby.
Thursday, March 29th, Zach and I left the hospital, empty handed, once again. Oliver was still in the NICU, but we were hopeful he would be coming home Sunday. We held on to that hope, telling ourselves we would all be a family soon. Zach and I went back to the NICU that night. It was really hard to go and then leave again without Oliver. We did this twice a day, for the rest of the time he was there.
We were still holding on to the hope that Oliver would be coming home with us Sunday. When we went to the NICU Friday morning, we were still hopeful. We went about his morning routine, changing, feeding, holding him. We talked with the doctors and nurses and they told us he was still doing well, it they weren’t ready to make any promises. That was hard to hear. We left and came back again later that night.
That night, they told us he would not be coming home Sunday. Zach and I held it together pretty well. The doctor explained that they didn’t want to send him home early and then have us need to come back because something was wrong. I understood, but that didn’t make it easier. We had a rough night once we got home. We both kept saying we weren’t getting our hopes up for Sunday, but they truth is, we did. It was really hard to accept that he wouldn’t be. It was even harder because they didn’t tell us a new date. The unknown is scary. The lack of control is terrifying. The inability to help your child is unbearable.
Saturday morning nothing changed. We continued to administer his care as we normally would. The nurse said he had a pretty good night, they may even take off the nasal cannula that night depending how he did during the day. This was huge. If he could make it 24 hours without the cannula, he would be able to come home. But we still didn’t want to get our hopes. It’s so hard not to get your hopes up…
We came back that night, and they still hadn’t taken off the cannula. The nurse that night was wonderful. She really tried to help me with breastfeeding. You could tell she truly cared about Oliver, me, and Zach. She wanted us to succeed and go home. It’s nice to know you have people in your corner. Oliver really struggled with nursing. We tried for about 15 minuets, and then switched to a bottle. We didn’t want him to get frustrated and have an episode with his breathing or heart rate. The night doctors hadn’t done rounds yet, but we needed to go home. I asked the nurse to call me after rounds and let me know if they took out cannula. She agreed. Once again, we left that night, no baby in tow. About an hour or so later, the nurse called. They had removed the cannula. He just needed to make it 24 hours without it, and we would get to take him home!
When we came back Sunday morning, and noticed Oliver’s cannula was still off! He made it through the night without it. The feeling was indescribable. We also learned Oliver was going to be circumcised that morning. This was huge, because the doctor told us he needed to go 24 hours without the cannula in order to be discharged and that they would set up the circumcision the day before they thought he would be going home. The pediatric urologist came and took Oliver back for his procedure.
A few minutes later, the doctors came around doing their rounds. He told us that Oliver was tongue tied. The nurse from the night before realized it after we had left and left a note for the morning nurse to tell the doctors. It so happened that the doctor on that morning was one who could do the simple procedure, a lingual frenectomy. He explained that it would be quick, just a simple clip of the membrane under his tongue, and while there would be some blood, it was very quick to heal. We agreed to do the procedure and he went back and did it. Within a few minute, our poor baby was clipped on both ends!
When they brought Oliver back to us he was screaming. He had blood on his face. It looked worse than it was. I immediately put him to breast and his crying stopped. He never cried again, well at least not because of the procedures he had done. The doctor talked with us for a bit, and told us the news we had been waiting for. Oliver would be allowed to go home Monday! We went home, so excited for the next day, but still knowing we had to come and go one more time without him.
When we went back Sunday night, the nurse from the previous night was there again. We thanked her for finding his tongue tie and for fighting for him. For calling me the night before about the cannula and helping us get one step closer to bringing out boy home. She was just happy to help. Zach, Ollie and I took our first family picture that night. No tubes on his face, the three of us together. It was amazing. That night we went home, knowing it was the last time we would leave without our baby. Come Monday morning, we would be a family, leaving together.
Come Monday morning, we could barely contain ourselves. It was finally here. The day we got to bring our son home. As I said before, I know the length of our stay in the NICU doesn’t even compare to what many of the other parents and children there go through, but given our history, it was awful. The feeling of finally being able to bring a baby home with us was something I truly didn’t know if I would ever be able to do.
I wish I remembered all of the nurses names that we had encountered. They were truly amazing. They fought for Oliver, getting him off the CPAP, finding his tongue tie, taking off his cannula. While we also loved the doctors we saw there, it really was the nurses who made the difference.
One week after Oliver came into the world, he came home. Our journey in the NICU had come to an end. Our journey as a family was about to begin.
