My son just had his very first day of school. He’s the first to tell me that he’s “a big
boy” and all I can think of is the tiny 3 lbs 14 oz baby in the incubator. It’s amazing
how time takes on wings once becoming a parent. As he embarks on this very
special milestone of starting formal education, I take time to reflect on how he
entered the world outside of the womb.
The expectation of your first child comes with a myriad of feelings. At 35 weeks
pregnant, my husband and I were filled with anticipation as we only had 5 weeks
before we met our little one…or so we thought. At around 32 weeks, an ultrasound
showed that our baby was not growing as he should and was smaller than expected.
At 35 weeks. We went in for an additional ultrasound, and to our complete shock,
the doctor told us that I would be admitted and induced. What?!? I was supposed to
go back to work later that morning….my baby shower was scheduled for later that
week. I was not ready!!!!
They induced me, but the baby was not tolerating the contractions very well. I wasn’t
progressing very well with dilation either. They inserted a Foley catheter to help me
along… My goodness! The pain of that thing was worse than the contractions in my
opinion. I only made it to 4 cm. In the end, after about 28 hours of labour I ended up
having a c-section. That was an experience. Being at a teaching hospital, I knew of
the likelihood of working with students and residents, but lying there on the table,
hearing one resident instructing another on how to stitch me up, I felt like I was on
an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.
After briefly holding him after the c-section, my son was whisked away to the
NICU. Through all the labour and preparation for surgery, nobody informed us of the
likelihood that our baby would have to be admitted to the neonatal intensive care
unit (NICU). I was in no way prepared for the separation from my baby. It would be
12 hours before I would have the chance to finally hold him again. At one point, I
remember waiting for the nurse to check my vitals so I could go to the NICU and see
my baby. My nurse was nowhere to be found. I paged and waited, paged and
waited some more. No one came to me. I didn’t care. I got myself into a wheelchair
and wheeled myself off to my son. Even though I was staying on a different floor in
the same hospital, the separation was torture for me. It was even worse once I was
discharged and my son was still in the NICU. I remember the day I left the hospital
and he remained in the hospital. My husband and I were in a crowded elevator, I had flowers and “it’s a boy” balloons in hand… and no baby. The idea of going home
without my son was absurd to me. There I was at home, with swollen feet, a fresh
scar on my midsection and pumping milk like a cow… all evidence that I had given
birth to a baby, but there was no baby at home with me. Absurd. This was an assault
on my mental health. We spent all day at the hospital and then slept at home. I
remember walking the halls of the NICU and thinking, “what am I doing here?” It all
seemed so unreal. I envied those who were caring for my baby when I wasn’t there
and also worried about how they were handling him. Ultimately, I was missing out on
time with my baby and I felt lost. There was only one remedy to relieve this sense of
loss and that was to hold my son. Upon holding my son, the tears would stop flowing
and my level of anxiety would dissolve. Having his head on my chest was the biggest
relief and the best feeling. It assured me that he existed; it assured me that I was
actually a mother.
Eighteen days. He spent the first 18 days of his life in hospital, but it felt like an
eternity. During that time you start getting used to machines telling you that your
child is ok; that his heart is beating and he’s getting enough oxygen. This was
something my husband and I had to unlearn. The night before my son was
discharged, we had the opportunity to sleepover at the hospital in our own room, so
we would do just that. We were able to care for the baby on our own, without
machines and nursing care. That was a real gift to ease our minds before bringing
him home.
Fast forward 4 years. My boy marched off to kindergarten. He was so ready! He said
his goodbyes and just like that was on his way. Looking back, on those early days in
the NICU, I’m convinced that they built resiliency in my son. It may sound silly, but I
look at how he successfully handles himself in new and sometimes daunting
situations and I can’t help but wonder….