Going Back

Yesterday I went back to the hospital.

And a flood of emotions came over me. I wasn't expecting that.

In hindsight, I feel like I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. Even though I had instigated the meeting with some hospital folks, my mind never once thought of what it would be like to go back. I had thought about going back to see the nurses who had taken care of Carson, but I never did it. Maybe deep down I knew why, but today, all those emotions from when I was there the last time came rushing back.

As I drove up to the hospital and turned left towards the parking garage, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I despise that parking garage. It's not a regular parking garage to me. To me it represents the feelings of panic as I raced through it the day my water broke. It is the garage that my mom and husband drove in and out of for one month to take care of my baby and me. It is the garage that I drove day in and day out (sometimes by myself) to go see my baby. I hate that garage. It represents exhaustion, helplessness and a little bit of sadness. And all those emotions came back as I entered it to grab my parking ticket.

And it didn't stop there. As soon as I walked down the stairs towards the hospital doors, I remembered vividly how I had done that for 14 days. I remember how it felt. It was hot. It was sad to see all the other patients leaving the hospitals in wheelchairs. And it was bittersweet to see families bringing home their babies. I remember thinking, "When will this be done?" "When do I not have to do this anymore?" Each day was long and tiring.

I remember the routine of getting my identification badge made and walking towards the elevator to go up, wash my hands and start the routine in the NICU. The same security guy was still there at the elevator. I wondered if he recognized me, probably not.

Once I got in the room for the meeting, I thought I was fine, but once I started sharing my story to the directors of the neonatal services, I lost it. Here I was more than one year later and I still got emotional about my experience. Because it was so much more than having a baby. It was an experience of not bringing home my baby when I went home. It was trusting complete stangers who became life savers and confidants taking care of my family. It was each day going to the hospital hoping to hear the good news that my daughter would come home, but not hearing those words. It meant another day of leaving the hospital and having to be a mother from afar.

Those were the emotions that surfaced yesterday. Those are the emotions that I know some mother is going through right now. And that is why I want to help. And that is why I was there at the hospital yesterday.

Day 1 in the NICU

The night Carson was born, Brent was able to take our parents to the NICU to visit Carson. Unfortunately, the grandparents weren't able to hold her because we wanted to limit germ exposure, but they were able to see her. Brent learned the ins-and-outs, so by the next morning, when I was ready to see my little baby, I knew the routine.

For our NICU experience, every time we went to see Carson, we had to wash our hands for two minutes and wear a medical gown. (Those things get hot and my hands were so dry by the end of June, but it was all worth it.)

When we went to visit the NICU while I was on bed rest, it was really sad to see the tiny babies in there and picture our baby in there too. It's not a place where you want your child to be, but if they are, they are in EXTREMELY good hands. They have a dedicated nurse watching over them and checking on them constantly. The nurses are empathetic to the parents and of course, professional. You can tell they love what they do and they are passionate for taking care of the tiny ones of the world!!

Our routine started by 9am every day, since that is when her first feeding of the day started and the neo-natal doctors made their rounds. I always wanted to be there when the doctors were there to hear what they had to say. Her routine was like this: Change her diaper, take her temperature and then try to nurse or feed her a bottle. Then get as much snuggle time as we wanted.

The emotions that I remember from those first few days were happiness, anxiousness and sadness. I know hormones played a role, but it was this emotional roller coaster of being happy that Carson was doing well and was healthy. But I was sad that she was tied up to machines, IVs in her little head and that we couldn't take her home yet. I was anxious because the doctors and nurses never give you a timeline of when she will come home. Only that she must meet certain criteria, so then you are just hoping that she continues on the path of maintaining her own temperature and gaining weight. So that's what we did. We nurtured her when we could get to the NICU and let the wonderful nurses and doctors do the rest.

Pictures in the NICU


Carson all snuggled after a feeding with Daddy.



I heart my bottles - 1 oz to begin with!

Carson and Mommy.

Don't Google On Bedrest

So in my last post, I ended on the highs and lows. I will discuss one of the lows.

Like I said, the lows really came at the beginning of the bed rest, and this one happened on the second night of my long stay in the hospital. Earlier that day, I had been admitted to the High-Risk pregnancy floor. It was the end of the day, so my husband and mom were both in the room saying good-bye.

I wanted them to both go to our house and get a good night's sleep. I really thought I would be fine. I reassured them that I would be and they left.

That's when an idle mind is a bad thing. In the back of my head, now that I had all of this time, I wanted to do some research to prepare myself of having a baby born early. So I googled. Big mistake. Huge. It was awful.

I googled something like "delivering at 32 weeks." I was not mentally or emotionally prepared for what popped up. Lists and lists from March of Dimes explaining all the health risks associated with a 32 week preemie. I couldn't handle it. I called my mom instantly.

By the time I could get the words out of what I had done, I was sobbing to my mom on the phone. All I heard was "I'm coming back."

My mom spent the night with me that night and every other night until Carson was born. My mom and Brent made a new rule - I wasn't allowed to stay by myself at night. And that was a good thing for me (probably not for them, since their sleeping arrangements weren't as comfy as mine.)

But it helped me get through the emotional roller coaster. I am not a good patient. I need reassurance and they were there for me whenever my emotions were getting the best of me.

I can't thank them enough for taking turns sleeping by me while nurses came in every three hours to give me medicine, take my blood pressure, temperature and to check Carson on the fetal monitors.

Rock stars is all I have to say. (And later today, I will have my mom's perspective on what we called "Carson's Journey.")