Memoirs and Confessions of a NICU mom

Being that my son's 2nd birthday is sneaking up in a few days, I can't help but reminisce about my experience of his birth. It's not uncommon that my memories from our time in the NICU flood my mind (for example, every time I have to take him to see any doctor for any reason), but the anniversary of his birth seems the most appropriate of times to reminisce.

I remember the night he was born like it was yesterday. So many times in my head I tell myself what I should have done differently, what I wish I could've changed, and what I would do now if I had to do it all over again today. I try to not let myself go there, but sometimes I just can't help it. Honestly, it's all a part of healing process. That is, one tiny part of a long healing process. 

I remember the emotions, physical pains, and series of events of that day. I remember the ice cold operating room. I remember the warm blankets that they laid on my chest and arms. I remember being poked all over with needles and IVs. I remember the sensation of being tugged, shoved, and squished in all of my insides during the surgery for what felt like an eternity. I remember the sudden and overwhelming sensation of nausea that hit me as they compressed my stomach to pull him out. I remember that the ONLY way I knew that my son had actually been born was when the surgeon said "Happy birthday!". With those two words I had two competing emotions overcome me: Joy that my son was born, and sorrow that I didn't get to see him being born. And then I remember the long, silent pause that came right after those two words that felt like a lifetime to pass by before I heard that miraculous first cry. And then came the tears. The happy, happy tears. 

But mostly I just remember not knowing exactly what the reality of the situation was. At the time, I didn't actually know just how sick my baby was. They whisked him away within 10 minutes of birth (they may as well have ripped him right out of my arms) and I had no idea that he wouldn't finally be free from the doctors and nurses for almost 2 whole weeks.

Usually the first few hours after a baby is born are reserved primarily for bonding time. Mine were spent in recovery. Talking to nurses. Having my family visit. Wondering when the heck my blood pressure was going to go down so I could move to a real room. Watching my husband run around frantically trying to keep everything together while dealing with both me and the baby being hospitalized. It was anything but quiet. It was anything but calm. It was anything but the joyous, precious memories that a woman dreams about when pregnant.

I also remember that at the hospital where he was born, they always play a lullaby on the loud speakers when someone comes out of recovery (or labor and delivery), indicating to everyone that a baby has been born. I remember being pushed on a bed to my room and hearing the song. The nurses pointed up and said, "That's it. Thats for you." I wasn't smiling. I heard the music, but there was no baby.

The next morning I was able to walk a bit (with assistance) so my nurse was kind enough to take me from the 3rd floor to the 1st to see my baby. I remember she kept saying, "We're gonna go see the baby" with enthusiasm. I was so out of it (drugs, lack of sleep, etc.) that I actually didn't care much. I felt like I just had surgery, not a baby. Was there a baby? I saw one a few hours back, but it didn't even sink in that this one was was mine. She took me down to the NICU and I got to see my baby, for real, for the very first time. He was about 8 hours old by now and only 4 pounds. He was asleep so I couldn't hold him or wake him. I wasn't even sure if I was allowed to touch him (they don't exactly give you a NICU prep course on all the rules) but I didn't care. Sitting in my wheelchair I reached into the incubated bed and began to slowly stroke his tiny head as I cried and introduced myself.

The weeks following were all a blur, yet the memories are crystal clear. There are too many to go over in this venue (at least not now), but basically the Spark Notes version is that there was a lot of crying. Like, a LOT. I cried whenever I saw him. I cried whenever I had to leave him. I cried and told my husband that it all was too much to handle and that I wanted to just leave this baby at the hospital, get pregnant again and start all over (a "Take Two", if you will). Yeah... I regretted that one later. But, in my defense, watching your baby fight for life makes you a bit crazy.

Day after day we would ask how long it would be till we took him home. And day after day we got the same answer: We don't know. There was talk of feeding tubes. Potential 6 week long IV treatments (which, thankfully, we narrowly escaped). All sorts of difficult and depressing stuff. Things no parent ever expects to have to deal with.

Aside from having your child die, I imagine watching them struggle to live is the second hardest thing a parent can endure. The thing is, no one tells you these things before you have a baby. It's like one of life's dirty little secrets. After the whole thing was over and I was struggling to sort out all my emotions, one major lesson came out of it all for me. It's probably the one thing that I learned that stands out the most for me, and that is that if you think you are ready to have a child, you also have to be ready to lose a child.

What the means is that just because you get pregnant doesn't mean that you are even guaranteed a baby. Things can always go wrong and in a second, everything changes. You have no idea.  Just because you give birth to a baby after a healthy pregnancy doesn't guarantee that the baby will be healthy, or even survive. And just because you do give birth to healthy baby doesn't mean that they will always stay healthy. Just because your child makes it to their 2nd birthday doesn't guarantee that someday they will celebrate their tenth birthday. Or their sixteenth, or their twenty-first, or their thirtieth.

The point of it all is that from the moment of conception, every second of life if a GIFT. Not something that we are promised. Not something that we are gaurentted. And certainly not something that we "deserve". Believe me, when I got pregnant the first time, after 8.5 months of waiting I felt let down when I didn't get the birth experience that I wanted (or even a healthy baby, for that matter) because I felt like I had "earned" it. I mean, I sat, waited and endured the endless trails of pregnancy just like every other mom that I knew. Why did I get shafted? Why was I spending hours at the hospital, meanwhile going back home to pump and then throw an alarmingly large collection of plastic vials full of breast milk into an insulated sack to deliver them to my baby everyday? It didn't make any sense.

But it's not supposed to. All that matters is that two years ago my life changed and I got a brand new best friend and love of my life. Every day with him is an amazing gift and while most everyday he tests my patience to the very last drop (and then some), he means more to me than any other person I have ever known or will know. Getting to this point has been the hardest journey of my entire life, and all the emotional wounds have not yet healed for me, but going through it all has been one of the single greatest blessings of my life.

Life with an (almost) 2 year old boy

As of late I find myself reflecting a lot of my life right now and I am constantly in awe of how unique this phase of my life is. I'm in the trenches. I know it won't be long until the kids are older and nostalgia rears it's ugly head and I will wonder: What happened to my babies?? 

It's eminent and it's inevitable.

I try my best to capture and memorialize these days as they fly by so fast simply so one day I can look back and say, "Oh yeah, I remember those days." instead of "Gosh, I don't even remember that!" I mean, don't ALL women have that natural tendency towards sentimentality, at some level? Especially with their kids. I never want to forget life as a mommy of two under two. 

So, in order to help me remember the smaller, more mundane aspects of my life as it currently stands, I decided to jot down a few things that really define, not in whole but to a fairly accurate degree, my day to day experience. 

In no particular order, I present to you... My life with an (almost) 2 year old boy:

#1. Toys

Oh, the toys! Oh the toys, toys, toys, TOYS! (Grinch reference, anyone?) I've blocked off as many areas of the house as I can, but regardless the toys end up EVERYwhere. The kitchen floor, the window sill, and yes....even the bathroom. My son is currently obsessed with cars (and anything that has wheels, really) so the majority of the surprises that I find are little vehicles everywhere. I've even considered creating an Instagram account detailing all the strange/interesting/amusing places that they pop up. Without going into detail, our kid has quite an active imagination.

#2. The never ending To-Do list

Undoubtedly this is an issue that plagues all mothers of little ones alike, but this has become much more prevalent to me as of late. Nothing soothes and relives stress for me as much as checking things off a list of things to do. In my “former” life before I became a mom and I worked outside the house, my whole world revolved around checking off lists. And poof, just like that my ability to meet that unquenchable thirst from within was robbed from me. Now-a-days, if I get just one thing off my list a week it’s a mini party. Honestly, I think a part of me died when this changed in my life.

#3. Crumbs

I think this one is pretty self explanatory. My guy loves to eat “on the go” and often even while playing. Needless to say every surface of my house is covered in crumbs. I gave up on cleaning it since while I am in the process of cleaning one mess, another mess is in the process of being made (a vicious cycle). So, I just learned to live with it, which was a shockingly painful adjustment for such a Type-A personality as myself. And when I do get the chance to vacuum, I'm convinced that I've sucked up enough crumbs to create a whole new meal entirely. 

#4. Boundless energy

If I let my kid jump from couch to couch and back again from dawn till midnight everyday, he would do it without the slightest hit of tiredness. In fact, I often become the culprit of this energy and magically transform into “mommy: the human jungle gym”. Not sure when this happened, but let me tell you, it’s NOT conducive to cute jewelry items or any hair styles other than a pulled back pony tail (or a bun on “fancy” days - whoo hoo!) I never cease to be amazed at the amount of energy that is cooped up in a toddler boy. (Lucky for me, that same energy is also occasionally exerted into such things as morning hugs and random “I love you” hugs during the day.)

#5. Drama

When we found out in November of 2011 that our first baby was going to be a bouncing baby boy I was thrilled to think that I was going to narrowly avoid all the “girl drama”. I was a teenager once, I know how life is for young girls. Hormones, cattiness, obsession with self image...you know, drama. I thought I was in the clear. Boys play in the dirt, eats lots of food, and leave messes everywhere. Done deal. Little did I know just how much drama would come from a little boy. Didn’t get the toy you wanted? Wanted a cookie but got whole wheat crackers instead? Yes, I think I’ll have a break down. And don’t even get me started on the drama fest that occurs EVERY time he gets a diaper change. Yes, my friends, there is drama. Even with boys.

#6 Early mornings, late nights

Again, I am sure most parents can relate. My kid, however avoids sleep like the black plague (and has done so since day one). If he could just skip sleep entirely, he would be happy to do so. Besides, it gets in the way of more important things like snack time, juice and (of course!) playtime! Did I mention he never stops moving? Oh yeah, see #4...

#7 Time FLYS

These past two years have gone by faster than any other years of my life (point in case, my 20’s will be coming to an end much sooner than I feel comfortable admitting....say what??) Seeing baby pictures of my boy feels like those day where just yesterday but now he’s a full fledged little person and even a big brother to boot. Baby days are already over with for him (again....say what??) and it’s gone by way WAY too fast. I mean, what happened to the days when I was in grade school and each day seemed like it took forever to get to 3 pm to get out of school? 

I know there is so much more that I can say, but this is all I can think of at the moment. If it isn't obvious, it's a crazy life right now, but someday I will look back and wish it all over again. 

Take away: Even though it's been amazingly difficult for me, I force myself to look to the things I can enjoy and treasure them. Children are, after all, a blessing!