#30DaysofBrave- Day 3- Valerie

“Becoming a NICU parent is something that nobody ever thinks about.

I remember taking a tour of the hospital when I was pregnant with my first. They brought us to the NICU floor and I remember thinking "oh it's nice that this is here" but I never really gave it a second thought.

Who would have thought I'd have two NICU babies - and that my full-term baby would be sicker than the preemie?

My water broke early in the morning at 35+0 on Valentine's Day 2016. We rushed to the hospital where I found out I was 2cm dilated. I had a totally healthy, normal pregnancy up until this point so I never had an ultrasound after the 20 week anatomy scan. They brought me to my L&D suite, where I labored for about 9 hours. Then, one of the nurses realized that she wasn't feeling a head during her checks; she was feeling a butt.

The baby was breech, and nobody knew.

I was 8cm dilated. I was rushed into an emergency C-section and my first little boy was born shortly after.

It all happened so quickly.

I remember waking up alone in recovery because it was a slow Sunday afternoon in the hospital and my husband went up to the NICU with our son, Tommy. I don't even remember being brought up to my room.

One of the things the hospital prided itself on was "mother-baby suites."

I stared at an empty bassinet in my room for the first two days.

After that, they just took the bassinet out.

I'm not sure what was worse.

I would get out of my hospital bed every 2 1/2 hours to go downstairs to the NICU to try to breastfeed/pump. Tommy wasn't that sick, thankfully, but I was totally blindsided by this unexpected birth experience.

When we had to take our infant CPR class 5 days after I gave birth in preparation for discharge, I had a complete breakdown.

This was the beginning of a long journey of postpartum depression that went undiagnosed for 11 months. Tommy spent 7 days in the NICU.

Fast forward to 2019/2020.

My pregnancy with my second was more difficult. Because of the preterm labor with my first, my OB and high risk team recommended that I take Makena injections to help me get to a term birth. Term was the goal. So each week, starting at 17 weeks, I would go to the doctor and get a painful progesterone injection.

Each week, I'd have an allergic reaction with large, itchy, hard welts at the injection site. They would have to change the injection site each week, so after a few weeks, my arms, butt, and hips were covered in a bumpy, itchy, hard rash. I debated giving the medicine up as it wasn't a guarantee, but I figured the discomfort was a small price to pay to avoid another potential NICU stay.

At my 32 week appointment, my blood pressure was reading high. My OB let me go home, but told me to come back in two days for another check. The BP was still high at the next appointment. My OB told me he should send me to the hospital, but knew I had a 3 year old at home, so he was going to give it one more chance.

Well, the next appointment, it was still high, so I was admitted to the hospital.

I stayed there for three days and was then sent home with a gestational hypertension diagnosis, orders to monitor BP at home, and biophysical profile (BPP) appointments twice a week for the remainder of my pregnancy.

A week later, the baby wasn't moving enough during the BPP monitoring so I was admitted to the hospital again. I stayed for 2 days this time. It was the second time I was leaving the high risk floor at the hospital - still pregnant. Good news, but also anxiety-inducing.

I brought a packed hospital bag to all of my doctors appointments.

Oh, also, this baby was breech too.

It was decided that due to my high blood pressure, I would deliver at 37+1 weeks, unless baby decided to come sooner. I made it to my scheduled C-section date and I was ecstatic.

The painful shots worked and I was going to have a term baby! Sure, it wasn't 40 weeks, but it wasn't "premature." I knew that another NICU stay was a possibility, but I was excited for the chance of having a "normal" birth experience and felt pretty confident that it would happen.

I was excited to hold my baby after giving birth, breastfeeding, and getting to have him with me in my room. Everyone kept saying that every day the baby stayed in, the healthier he'd be.

My C-section went well and my son, James, came out crying, but I knew something was wrong when they didn't give him to me right away.

In my medicated fog, I thought the lag time was about 15 minutes, but looking at the time stamps on my camera, I later realized that there was a full 30 minutes between me giving birth and the doctors handing him to me to hold him before whisking him away to the nursery.

I remember looking at my husband, scared, and he didn't know what was going on either. It turns out that the gas exchange wasn't happening the way it was supposed to and my son's lungs were not expanding or allowing enough oxygen in.

They told us that he would be taken to the transitional nursery, but would likely be with me by the next day. While in the nursery, my son's condition worsened, and their normal treatments were not working.

While I was still in recovery, they took my son to the NICU. It was then when I realized it would be a long time before we would get to take him home. My son's breathing was becoming increasingly fast and he was not getting enough oxygen. Ultimately, they had to intubate him.

He was diagnosed with prolonged TTN (transient tachapnya of the newborn), which normally clears up within 12-24 hours after birth. His condition was worsening and they didn't know why.

They told me that sometimes bigger babies have a harder time because their lungs are bigger.

I know it wasn't their intention, but I felt like I failed my baby. I tried everything to keep him inside me longer, and he wound up being sicker because he was bigger. I realize that this is an irrational thought, but it just felt like I couldn't win or make the right choice for my baby at this point. He also had pulmonary hypertension and plagiocephaly due to his positioning in my womb.

It was heartbreaking to see my baby with tubes down his throat, not being able to cry. It took 3 people to get James out of his bed and into my arms. I couldn't breastfeed because of the CPAP and ventilator. Pumping every three hours felt like the only thing I could actually do for my baby.

James spent 16 days in the NICU.

He's thriving now at 7 months, but we've had a difficult journey to get here, including months of painful breastfeeding, physical therapy, occupational therapy, a tongue tie revision, hip ultrasounds, head shape clinic, urology specialists and craniosacral therapy.

I didn't mean to write this much about my journey and there is plenty that I am leaving out.

I cannot describe in words the devastating feeling to non-NICU parents that is leaving your baby at the hospital on the day you are discharged.

It is absolutely gut-wrenching. You think you have it together until you don't. I'm still dealing with the grief of the birth experiences I wanted. I still have pangs of jealousy when I see friends on Facebook showing pictures, cuddling their new babies hours after giving birth and getting to go home within 24-36 hours.

I wish there was something I could do to give back to the nurses, doctors and respiratory therapists that helped my babies and me throughout both of our journeys. I also have so much love for the volunteers and the various organizations that supported us during those difficult times with care packages, homemade quilts and hats and onesies.

The nurses who made us footprint art projects and holiday goodies (both babies were in the NICU during Valentine's Day) are angels and those gestures will never be forgotten (in fact, they are framed).

My babies are thriving now because of these wonderful people, and my goal is to get involved with our NICU and with supporting local NICU families in my area.”