Flavor of the Day Feelings: Navigating NICU Emotions- Cori's story
When we think about the birth of a baby, most think of celebration, with smiles and laughter and tears of happiness.
Learning that a NICU stay is in your future, whether your baby is full-term or premature, may bring a shock to the system and cause tears of fear, not knowing what each day will bring and putting those celebrations and smiles on hold. Your head is spinning not knowing what kind of chemicals to shoot out in order to give you a certain kind of emotion, because that’s the thing- you don’t know what’s going to happen, but you want to prepare yourself to feel ready for whatever event is thrown your baby’s way.
After giving birth to my twin boys, Ezra and Rowan, at 22 weeks and 1 day gestation, my mental health involved a never-ending whirlwind of emotions- happy that my boys survived their birth, terrified for their health, and sadness because I knew it was much too early- they weren’t even considered viable.
When Ezra died after 20 hours, I felt overwhelming grief and pain. I didn’t know how I was going to feel or what was going to happen from one minute to the next. I’ve battled an anxiety disorder for 18 years, but none of the techniques I’ve learned over the years to help me cope could have ever prepared me for the slew of emotions I was about to be hit with head on.
Uncertainty is a monster that likes to hide out in the corner of the room during a NICU stay- uncertainty about time away from home, outcomes of your baby’s health and development, etc. But also, uncertainty over when you will feel like yourself again, and how you will feel each day.
For 129 days (the length of Rowan’s NICU stay), I woke up each morning feeling like I was reaching my hand into a candy jar to pull out an emotion for that day. I wanted to be the happy, excited mother that could enjoy every second of their new baby, but that monster of uncertainty liked to stay on my shoulder most of the time. Nonetheless, I wanted to bond with my surviving twin despite the little reassurance my husband and I would receive from our neonatologists (with good reason because things can take a turn for the worse without warning). Some days I would wake up and pull out a sweet-tasting “cheerful” feeling for the day, ready to bring a story to read to Rowan in the NICU and chat with the nurses about his night. Other mornings, a bitter “anger” would be the luck of the draw, such as the morning I threw a large glass on the bathroom floor while locking out my husband, who only wanted to pick me up and wipe the tears from my face.
Other days would be like pulling out an empty wrapper, because all I felt was a lack of emotion and only the need to survive another day; for me, for my husband, and for Rowan. Despite the mixed flavor emotions I would reach into each morning, I always felt an overwhelming amount of love for my boys and my husband. That love gave me the pick-me-up I needed to get out of bed each morning and not only worry about what Rowan needed, but what I needed, as well. Self-care for my mental health during our NICU stay meant taking care of not just my body, but my heart and soul, too. This was no easy task when I was grieving one baby and simultaneously celebrating each ounce of growth of the other. Uncertainty continued to creep its way into Rowan’s room throughout his stay. Would he be extubated today?
What would his chest x-ray show? Did he have good wet diapers? Would the antibiotics take care of each infection he endured? As hard as it was to tiptoe around that monster, the more I did for myself (from long walks around the neighborhood to some days just letting go and eating ice cream for dinner) the easier it was to shut it out and take things moment by moment, breath by breath, and snuggle by snuggle.
Uncertainty brings anxiety about the future, but the present is certain: your baby grows with your love, and you have more love to give when you take care of your whole self, too.