My Ryan was 21 days old before I was able to hold him. TWENTY-ONE DAYS I sat and watched him breathe, or not as the case may be, watched him struggle for life. Watched him have surgery to close his PDA. Watched him puff up like the Stay Puff Marshmallow man after surgery. Watched him endure countless procedures, ventilators, and blood transfusions. Just watched him. Watched other moms hold, nurse, kangaroo care their babies.
For Twenty-one days I did everything I could to touch my babies with out causing them to stop breathing, I learned how to change their diapers, hold them down for blood draws, or procedures, anything to touch them and assure them I was there. For twenty-one days, they were just to unstable to hold.
We read in our Preemie book that babies sense of smell was very powerful, and they could certainly smell their Mothers. The book suggested wearing a washcloth next to your skin to let your scent penetrate the fabric, placing it in the incubator for the preemie to smell your presence. We did this. We also cut up some receiving blankets because our well intending nurses would clean out the boys isolettes and get sometimes get rid of the said washcloths.
It was torture. I wanted so desperately to hold and cuddle my children. But obviously, keeping them breathing was far more important than what I wanted.
We finally got our moment. Our Nurse Cindy was brave and decided that this was going to be the day. I don't think everyone in the NICU had her confidence that this was the right time to try.
As we made the transfer from the bed to my arms. Ryan had a major desaturation in his oxygen levels and the attempt was almost aborted.
On the left, is the Respiratory Therapist, and Nurse Cindy is on the right, what you can't see is the Attending Doctor, Evan's Nurse, the Fellow, the Resident all standing nearby, watching, waiting, hoping they did not have to jump in a rescue Ryan.
We made the transfer, and I carefully held Ryan. After he settled in, his O2 levels stabilized, and the "team" breathed a little easier too.
Ryan clung to my finger and sucked contentedly on his breathing tube for a half an hour. My joy in finally getting to hold this precious little thing was indescribable, and only dampened by poor Evan lying alone in his isolette. (Where he would stay for another two weeks)
2 comments:
You brought tears to my eyes. I remember that day - I remember bumping into you in the 'parents' room in between 'pumps' - and I remember the joy in your voice as you shared that you finally got to hold him - and I remember, knowing exactly how you must feel - and just how wonderful it was to be able to hold our fragile NICU babies...
That was so very sweet. I'm glad everything turned out well in the end!
Two years old! Wow.
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