By mid February my baby was not just due, the little bugger was overdue. The doc and I decided that it was time to be done and on Feb. 19, my husband and I headed to the hospital determined to not come home without a baby.
I already had had two inductions scheduled and cancelled. It was upsetting to say the least. We called the hospital at 5 a.m. that day to see if they had room for me this time.
Once we got settled in they administered the drugs to kick-start this kid’s eviction. That was at 9 a.m. By 9:02 (an exhausting 24 hours later) we heard those three little words we had been waiting to find out since the beginning: “It’s a boy!”
He became “Gary Brian”. I became “mom”.
Though the doctors and nurses did everything they could to stay calm, something was wrong. He was too white. He was too quiet.
The first time I saw him he had an oxygen mask covering most of his face and the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit team was rushing him out of the room.
As soon as the epidural wore off I walked down to the NICU where I would spend the most of the next week. They did every terrifying test in the book. They did x-rays on his lungs for pneumonia, ultrasounds on his brain for hemorrhaging, EEG testing for seizures. I learned the meaning of words like CPAP, nasal cannula, and respiration rate. I found out what a brain bleed is and that there are four grades, one being the least worrisome and most common.
I made friends with other moms with little ones in much worse shape, and I prayed more than I have in years.
One by one the tests came back negative. So the doctors turned their focus to me — one lab test after another. My doctor came into the room and explained that I had a serious infection running throughout my bloodstream. No one had any idea how or for how long because, she said, my body had taken over and apparently my immune system was so impressive, no one could tell how sick I was. She said that I should have been on the floor in pain, not walking around as if nothing was wrong.
That’s when they started me in on IV antibiotics.
I was stuck in my bed with an IV drip every few hours rather than being in the NICU feeding my little boy. The nurses had us on a schedule to feed him every three hours, which meant for that half hour or so we got to hold him. They monitored his every milliliter in and every diaper out.
All they could do is treat him for the infection. By day six they decided he was borderline jaundice but could be moved to pediatrics and treated there. We got to stay with him in the family room and finally I got to snuggle my little man any time I wanted to.
This was not exactly the way I wanted my first child experience to go, but we got thrown into the deep end and from here everything else sounds like a cake walk.
It took 41 weeks of pregnancy, 24 hours of labor, a team of doctors and nurses and a number of monitors, electrodes, feeding tube, IVs, pokes, and prods, but on Feb. 29 we finally went home with our baby — as a family.
Allison – Walsh County Press – wcpress@polarcomm.com