9 Days in the NICU

I have been dreading this post because it is about the hardest part of the journey we've had thus far.  Bear with me through this one - the story will get brighter.  Promise. 

While Ethan and I were snuggling for the first time I noticed that he was panting but didn't really think much about it.  Usually babies are pretty alert right after delivery and want to nurse, but Ethan just closed his eyes and laid still on my chest.  They said this was pretty normal for a baby whose mom is on the magnesium sulfate (mag for short).  The poor baby comes out feeling the same as their momma does- sick and lethargic.

I was still laying in bed and hooked up to the IV as they wheeled me down to the mother/baby unit.  I had to continue to be pumped full of the mag for 12 hours after delivery.  Dustin left with Ethan to perform the ritual of the first bath, and I pretty much immediately passed out.  My mom must have left somewhere around this time too.  When the nurses woke me up an hour later to do vitals (they would continue to check my vitals every hour for the entire time I was on the mag and then every 2 hours for the following 12 after that) I realized Dustin still wasn't back from the bath.  I asked what was going on and the nurse informed me that Ethan's was breathing abnormally so they were hooking him up to be monitored in the NICU.  I had no idea how hard it would be to get him out once he was in there.

I don't think I fully comprehended what they had told me because I allowed myself to be sucked back under into an uneasy sleep right after the nurses left again.  A couple hours later I struggled to consciousness, fighting the fog in my head and asked if I could go see my baby.  The nurses wheeled me to the NICU (I wasn't allowed to walk while I was on the mag since it makes you so dizzy).  Honestly I hardly remember those first 24 hours after delivery.  Between the magnesium sulfate, sleep deprivation and stress of it all my brain didn't have a chance.

Our new little family - all together for the first time

Ella meeting her baby brother

Then all the bad news started coming.  Our regular pediatrician was on vacation the entire time we were in the hospital so we saw whatever pediatrician happened to be on call each day.  The first day the pediatrician told us that Ethan had some signs of a chromosomal disorder (he used Down Syndrome as an example but said there were many others that were less well known) - his head was an odd shape, he had a single simian line on one hand, and his testicles were not descended.  The head shape could just be due to the vacuum and the other things could be unrelated but we needed to be aware of the possibility that our baby would never be "normal".

Ethan continued to show no interest in eating, well after the effects of the magnesium sulfate should have worn off and each day he was in the NICU the doctors and nurses seemed to find something new to worry about. High bilirubin levels, a huge hematoma on his head from the vacuum, a possible seizure, he failed his hearing test, he was being tested for an array of chromosomal abnormalities, and lack of eating = "failure to thrive" (a depressing term, if I ever heard one).  It seemed like we would overcome an obstacle one day only to have our world shattered all over again the next.

Getting prepped for an EEG because of his "seizure"

EEG being done to look for abnormal brain waves

When he continued to refuse to eat they placed a feeding tube in his nose.  He needed 60 mls of milk every three hours so we had a routine.  We would try to coax him to eat orally for about 20 minutes.  Breast or bottle he would usually only take about 10 mls.  The remaining milk would then slowly be pumped into his stomach for 30-40 minutes while either Dustin or I held him.  Then I would pump for 20 minutes to supply milk for the next feeding.  The whole thing took well over an hour so I spent A LOT of time in that chair by his bed.  I would let the nurses handle the feedings on their own about twice a day but I still had to wake up to pump each time, so to say I was exhausted (physically as well as emotionally) would be an understatement.  Ethan was such a sweetheart through the whole thing.  He hardly ever cried and when he did all it took was a soft stroke or a quick snuggle and he would stop right away.  It's almost like he was just checking to make sure I was still there.

Ethan with his feeding tube

I would have a couple days where I felt strong - like I could handle it all.  And then I would have a day where I would just crash and be unable to stop the tears from flowing.  At my lowest point I started to question my role in this.  Had a forced this child into being because I wanted him so badly?  My body had fought me literally every step of the way.  Was it a selfish desire on my part to have a second baby, when I should have just been happy with one?  I felt like such a failure.  My body's main purpose as woman was to carry and bear children, and here it had fallen short and created something that was, in a way, so imperfect.  He certainly didn't deserve this.  I had been unable to give this child the advantage of a healthy start to life, the way it seemed other mothers did without trying.  My love for Ethan never wavered but when I looked at him I found myself searching for signs of all the problems I was told he might have, rather than seeing him for the beautiful boy that he is.  It took a lot of faith that God's plan is greater than my own and a lot of praying (still does) to receive the comfort that I needed to change this way of thinking.