David was only four days old when the doctors wanted me to try to breastfeed for the first time. I was nervous and scared and excited beyond belief. Before I ever began the nurse went through a short little tutorial with me. She wanted to set some expectations which was just what I needed. Trying for the first time was not for David to receive any nutrition. They wanted to see what he was going to do. The nurse was going to be looking to see if he turned his head toward my breast, if he opened his mouth and maybe just maybe if he latched on.
Since I had nursed two other children I had a bunch of confidence built up. I was not a first time mom fumbling for the first time. I knew what I was doing. I had even called my husband the night before to make sure he brought my Boppy (the nursing pillow). David was so tiny that I needed something to prop him up and I was still very weak. I needed all the support I could get. Still wearing my hospital gown my breasts were readily available. It amazes me that when I became a mom the whole modesty thing went out the window. Boobs hanging out for all to see? Who cares. This is me and my baby sharing a moment that will only be this one moment. With the nurses help I held out my breast just like I had been taught, massaged the breast to get milk to come down and then placed my nipple on his lips. The next moment was one that I will never forget. David opened his mouth wide just like any baby is supposed to do and latched on, on his first try. And then he started to suck. I looked at my husband and then at the nurse with this complete look of awe and said, "Did you see that? Did you see what just happened? Did you see him latch on the first try?" Tears were running down my face complete with a huge smile. I was elated. My baby was getting stronger by the day and he just made a huge milestone. What could be better? I was lucky beyond lucky. Nursing David got easier as he got stronger. He was a natural (not all babies are). The time spent holding him skin to skin, the constant pumping, it all paid off. I had more milk than I knew what do to with. My doctor's and the NICU lactation consultant were amazed. After all the blood loss my body still knew what do to and did it well.
Breastfeeding is hard work. Taking formula or breast milk from a bottle is much easier. David was not allowed to be at my breast for more than a few minutes. With preemie's the doctors don't want them to have to work hard at much of anything. They want all their calories to be used to gain weight and to grow. So therefore they are in incubators to keep them nice and cozy warm and in the beginning I was not allowed to breastfeed for more than 10 minutes at a time.
Slowly as David got stronger the doctors allowed him to breast feed more and more. In the beginning it was once a day. That killed me. I remember one specific time I went to take David out of his incubator and got yelled at by his nurse. "He should not be out, the nurse scolded. He is only allowed out so many minutes a day and you already fed him once today. The rest of the feedings will be given via his feeding tube." I was crushed. I wanted to run from the NICU with David in my arms never to return. "How is it that this nurse could tell me what was best for my baby?" I hid my tears as best as I could, sat down in the chair next to his incubator and stared at him and thought, "Here I am visiting my baby in this hospital and I cannot even hold him." The tears came and didn't stop. I was so distraught over not even being able to hold David. When the nurse got busy with some other baby I pulled him out. By this time I knew how to care for all of his needs. I knew to change the pulse/oxygen monitor to a different foot or hand at every diaper change. I knew how to give a feeding through his feeding tube. I knew when the monitor was beeping just to be annoying or when it was beeping because his oxygen levels had dropped. I knew to take his temperature before I took him out of the incubator and if I didn't get a reading I liked I knew to get another thermometer from somewhere else! I was taught how to change his clothes with all the wires and even how to clean up the incubator when he peed/pooped all over it during a diaper change! When I was visiting the nurses didn't have to worry about David. I took care of his every need.
Once David was transferred to the step-down unit in the NICU I was allowed to do pretty much anything I wanted. My friend (who is a nurse) calls it the feeder and grower unit. I never had to live through the hell again of being told not to hold my baby. The days consisted of pumping in the morning, eating breakfast and then heading up to the NICU to spend time with David. When my pain meds began to wear off I would head back to my room for more medication and lunch that my husband had picked up from somewhere.
In the 5 weeks that I was in the hospital I rarely ate the hospital food. I'm gluten-free which is really hard. In a hospital they err on the side of caution and serve you a completely gluten-free and taste-free meal. To say the food was awful would be a gross understatement. Towards the end I would not even order food. I didn't want the tray in my room. I did not want that smell anywhere near me. But, they brought it anyway. My husband made the mistake of opening the lid on my tray one time. Before I could yell, "NO! NO! DON'T OPEN THAT!" He already had and the smell had wafted towards my nose. I was immediately sick to my stomach. I could feel my mouth start to water (in a really bad way) and thought long and hard about running to the bathroom.
After lunch Greg and I would head back to the NICU where I would again nurse David and spend time just holding him, smelling him, looking at him. I didn't want to forget any part of this tiny little person in my arms. I knew that as little as he was that he was going to get big really fast. I had to soak in every moment because David was for sure my last baby. This was the last time I would ever breastfeed, hold an infant that was mine and the last time I would be a new mom. In so many ways I was elated that it was the last time. Being a new mom is fucking hard. But, there is a sadness that comes with the knowing that its the last time. Soon my boys would be teenagers begging for the keys to the car and money to go out with their friends. These moments in the NICU were fleeting. I knew that. So I made them last. I took pictures. I took the time to soak in the surroundings, chat with the nurses and move just a little bit more slowly.
Then just as I was getting into a rhythm of caring for David and spending time in the NICU I got the news I had been waiting for; I was going home the next day. After five weeks of being in the hospital I was going to sleep in my own bed next to my husband.
I have to go on a little tangent here...Before Greg and I were married we did not live together. The one and only thing I was looking forward to after we were married was going to bed each and every night next to my husband. When I was put in the hospital being away from him each night was the hardest. There is just something about knowing your best friend, and confidant is there just in case, right beside you. The nights when I cried myself to sleep (and there were plenty of them) he wasn't there to hold me or tell me, "It's going to be okay." In the hospital I was always scared. I never knew what the day was going to bring. I had a sense of impending doom at all times and at night I desperately needed my husband beside me.
Going home meant safety, something I had been missing for far too long. I could not wait to take a shower in my shower and sit on my couch to watch all the TV shows that had piled up on my DVR. No more hospital food, no more blood draws or IV's, no more early morning rounds by the residents. I would be able to wake up and be with my two boys. Caleb 3 1/2 and Jonah 5 1/2 did not have their mom for the last five weeks. At last I was going home to stay. There was one piece of me that was not going...David. He would stay another two weeks before being released. I had to leave my baby at the hospital.
No comments:
Post a Comment