Thirty Four Days

It took Evan thirty four days to be stable enough for us to hold him. Two years ago, I had the ultimate, early Mother's Day gift, I held my little boy for the first time.



Peggy got me ready in the morning, "Today's the day, as long as he continues to do okay, you can hold him" I waited patiently for Scott to get to the hospital from work, with the camera, and I finally got to hold Evan.


It had been a rough few days, both boys were self extubating on a regular basis, on and off the breathing tube. My journal entries for the previous week all started with, phrases like:

"Evan we had to go back up on your vent today..."
"Holding your breath is not acceptable behavior..."
"Evan you are having a tough day...that shade of purple is not all that pretty on you."
"Ryan you are back to being puffy"
"Evan! you self extubated again!...You had no events from 4AM to 10:30 AM! That is a really long time" (it's funny how six and a half hours was an eternity, we were so happy that he went six and a half hours without setting off his alarms. Or six and a half hours breathing like a normal baby)

With all the ups and downs of the previous week, getting the chance to hold Evan was nothing short of a miracle. I even got a few minutes with him off his NSMIV (Nasal Synchronous Intermittent Mandatory Ventilation: when a ventilator delivers preset breaths in coordination with the sponteaneous breaths a patient is taking.) where I could see his whole face.

"Evan, it was so wonderful to hold you. Your heart rate had been high all day, but once you were in my arms it came down from the 190's to the 160's. Is there any better place for you than in Mommy's arms?"

It was so amazing to finally hold Evan. I honestly doubted it would ever happen. Can you imagine not holding your newborn, for more than a month? I worried that he wouldn't bond with me. I worried that when I held his brother, he was sad. That he felt I loved him less because I never held him. I felt that I was neglecting him, not providing the nurturing he needed to get well. It was such a terrible position to be in. Every time he was touched, he held his breath, but was the lack of my touch causing him to be slow to recover? Do I listen to the doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists and just wait, or do I push to hold my baby and possibly do more harm than good. All I could do was be there. After a cuddle with Ryan, I'd spend as much, if not more time with Evan to "make up" for it. I think that is one of the things all twin mommies go through. Equality.

Finally, I could make up some ground on the equality issue. After that first cuddle, it became easier and easier to hold Evan. It's almost as if everyone was waiting for the first time, not wanting to be the one, just in case it went badly. After the first time went so well, we all stopped holding our collective breath, and holding the boys became a daily event. Evan always was calmer and breathed easier when he was on my chest. He slept deeply and contentedly. Ryan too. When the boys were having a bad day, nothing made it turn around like a nice long cuddle with Mommy or Daddy.