Why?

This post is coming to you from Jennifer's husband. Jennifer asked me to write this to illustrate my point of view to her readers. I want to start out by saying that sharing personal experiences with strangers is not my strong suit (one of many differences between Jennifer and I), but I will do what I can to get my point across.

When our saga started, I met Jennifer at the hospital and my head was spinning. I didn't know what to say or do, so I said very little (running my mouth when I am overwhelmed is not my strong suit either). The first day I provided hand holding, back rubbing, phone calls to mom, etc. I pretty much let the doctors to their thing and tried to stay calm and out of the way. A hysterical husband is the last thing that Jennifer or the doctors needed. The doctors actually did a pretty good job of staying calm themselves and making sure that we we knew exactly what they were doing and why there were doing it. My opinion of the doctor that laid it all out there for us is a little different than Jennifer's. This lady was matter-of-fact, straight to the point, and did not waste any words (my kind of woman). I did not know anything about having a premature child (or any child for that matter) and she gave me a 10 minute crash course on the risks and what we should expect. I appreciated the fact that she did not sugar coat anything, and left very little to the imagination. When people start dancing around details, I naturally imagine that these details will affect me in a negative way. I was able to wrap my mind around some of the scary things she was telling us and strangely enough it made me feel better.

Even though the first day was hard, it went quickly. The next four weeks were more of a marathon (distance running is not my strong suit either). It was a slow grind and I spent most of my time at work or the hospital. I was staying every other night in the hospital, taking turns with my mother-in-law (eternally grateful for her). Consequently, I was only sleeping every other night. I'm a light sleeper to begin with and a constant stream of nurses in and out and the un-rhythmic noises of monitoring equipment ensured that I would never sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time. My point here is that I spent the next month being TIRED and worried. At the same time, Jennifer was forced to sit in bed all day and do nothing but worry (100 times worse than my situation). The question that she asked me several times per day every day was: Why? Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong? Why am I spending my maternity leave sitting in this hospital without my baby? Of course I didn't know the answers to these specific questions. All I knew is that "I don't know" was not an acceptable answer. I also knew that my girl needs constant reassurance (one of the many nuances of Jennifer), so that is what I did. My answer to the question was always the same: "Because this is the way it was meant to be and once all is said and done everything will be just fine. Everything happens for a reason and someday we will know that reason." I must have said this a thousand times, and it usually made her feel better for about an hour and then the cycle would repeat. She tried to wear me down, but I think I held it together well enough. Answering this question was probably the most important thing I did for Jennifer and Carson over those four weeks. Other than this, I felt pretty helpless.

To wrap this up, if I were able to turn back the clock one year and I could give myself some idea of what to expect here is what it would be:

• Prepare to be tired



• Prepare to feel helpless



• Figure out what you can do and do it

A Major Meltdown

Have you ever tried to put on a brave face just to have a complete meltdown later on? Or tried to hold your emotions in, but sooner or later they have gotten the better of you and you just have to let it out?

I reached that point about a week and a half into Carson's stay in the NICU/Progressive NICU.

Looking back, I'm surprised it took that long to have my first major meltdown. It probably should have happened the day I left the hospital. But it didn't and I think I know why.

Brent and I were both trying to put on our brave faces for each other. Or at least I was. I cannot speak for him, but this is what I did.

I tried to put on my brave face because if I melted down, I thought, it would be too hard to get back to being positive again. That if I just lost it, then that meant I was feeling sorry for myself, when other babies were in a tougher situation than our daughter. I felt like I needed to stay positive for Carson. Even though I wasn't with her 24/7, I felt that she could feel my energy. I didn't want any negative energy around her. Only positive thoughts. I wanted her to feel 100% love, support, and confidence that everything was going to be okay.

But it did not feel that way all the time. And that's when I couldn't keep it in anymore.

We were driving home from the hospital. Carson had a setback. She had a Brady-apnea, so that meant at least another seven days in the hospital. As we were driving home, Brent asked me, "What was I thinking?" (Because I'm always thinking about something.) I told him, "I just feel like crying." He said three simple words, "Let it out."

And oh, did I.

I mean, huge, big tears. Tears that make you have to grasp for breath. I think I cried all the way home. And I screamed. Because not only was I sad. But I was pissed. Pissed that my healthy pregnancy turned out this way. I was mad that my maternity leave was spent two weeks in the hospital before Carson was born and how many days in the hospital afterwards. I was mad that I may not get the time I wanted or needed with my daughter before I had to go back to work (thankfully, my employer at the time was AMAZING!)

So I had the full range of emotions of being sad, mad and just downright angry. I felt like I had gotten robbed. Robbed of valuable time with my daughter. And I didn't like it. I wanted it fixed.

But what I learned from that moment is that I needed a good cry. I needed to get those feelings out because I wouldn't have been able to keep them in. I think I needed to show my husband what I was feeling, so he could understand - even though I think he did understand. And once I let it all out, I felt so much better. When it was over, I felt this huge stress lifted from my shoulders. I felt so much better and I could believe again that everything would be okay.

The Next Five Days

The next five days were the same routine.

Through the night, I would get up and pump.

(And people would say, "Oh, you must be getting sleep, since Carson is not home yet. First, wrong thing to say to me. Second, no, I am not getting sleep because I have to get up every two to three hours to make sure my child has food. Third, I much rather have my child home.)

My mom and I would get to the hospital by 9am for the previous mentioned routine for the day. And depending upon the day, we would either stay until 12pm or go run some errands and be back by 3pm. I at least wanted to see Carson twice a day, if not more. One thing we could not plan for was that if we did get there, sometimes, the NICU would be closed because they were operating or needed to discuss sensitive information to parents. So my vote was usually to stay as long as we could, since you didn't know if you would miss out later on in the day.

Please remember, my mom still hadn't held Carson, since we wanted to keep Carson "germ-free". Well, we were nearing five days in the NICU and the nurses were telling us that it looked really good that she would be moved to the Progressive NICU. I thought, "Wow, so soon!! This is wonderful!!"
Since Carson was doing so well, and my mom had been with me, I really wanted my mom to experience that Grandmother (but she goes by Gia) - Granddaughter bond. My mom held Carson on the fourth day in NICU.

And it was magical.

Have you had a moment like that with a daughter, son, niece, nephew, cousin, or best friend's child?

Gia holding her special grandbaby.

Gia and Carson

My mom wears her mother's wedding ring, so I felt like my Grandma was there. Carson's middle name is my Grandma's first name, Marie.