Pregnancy and Birth VII

On Sunday morning, day 4, I was released from hospital. But I decided to lodge in the hospital to be close to Boeboe. I couldn't bear the thought of going home without her. It’s going so well with her, that she’s being given 1ml of expressed breastmilk every 4 hours. It broke my heart, though. She was extremely hungry, and 1ml did nothing for her. But she still had those strange gasses in her stomach and bile coming out, they couldn't afford to give her too much. All the grannies comes to visit. They’re allowed inside NICU on Sundays. They didn’t stay long, you could see it was too difficult for them. They’re not used to today’s technology. Seeing a baby on beeping monitors and tubes, wires and needles coming out from every orifice and extremity.

Some other family members visit, and we sat and chat in one of the sittingrooms. It lifted my spirits. Everyone was happy and Mr N played with his cousin as if nothing was wrong. I felt normal and alive, until I went to stand next to my daughter’s crib once everyone left. Her arm was swollen and yellow and looked extremely painful. The IV line went into the muscle. They had to move the drip into her head. There were no veins available anymore in her arms or legs. Her beautiful, black hair has been shaved off in the front. It pained me and I wanted to cry. They didn’t even save some of the hair for me to keep.

But she was alive. She was fighting. And she was healing. She was getting stronger and stronger. Our little Mcguyver. She didn't sleep every moment anymore. She loved her dummy and sucked it constantly.

On Monday morning the pediatrician told us she was recovering beautifully, and that they could give her more milk. She was getting 10-20 ml. It went well. They gave it through a gastric tube. They wanted to chase me out each time, but I refused. Once they pushed it in through the nose and it came out her mouth. With blood. I felt like fainting. She screamed and screamed.

She loved the milk. I was expressing way too much, but at least she was drinking some now. She had jaundice, and the lights were put above her bed. She had a big mask over her eyes to protect them from the UV light. Between the mask, the plasters, the tubes and the wires, you couldn't see much of her face.

I started to get depressed. Next to me a mommy came in with her newborn baby and all the family visited and laughed and celebrated. I cried and phoned my husband. I couldn't take it any longer. He said he’s coming. We went to Boeboe, and said goodbye. It broke my heart, but I needed to do this for me. It felt like a huge weight rolled off my shoulders when I left the hospital with my husband, hand in hand, our little boy in his other arm.

Mr N smiled from ear to ear. He was so much happier with me back with him. He was still not feeling well, so back we go to the GP. He got some meds. My husband took me to Woolworths, where we bought some prem sized clothes. We gave our first photo film in. Boeboe looked so alone on them, with all the wires and tubes. I wanted to go back. I wanted to be with my daughter. I needed to go back.

It was going well with her. They said she was doing well on the milk. I greeted her with a very heavy heart that evening. I was going home without her. I couldn't stay in the hospital any longer. Mr N missed me too much.

It’s chaos at home. Fortunately, I froze some meals before the birth. I spent some time with my son, and then went to unpack the bags. It broke my heart to unpack Boeboe’s unused bag. I chose each outfit for every day so carefully before the birth. I pressed the pink babygrow to my chest and cried. I cried and I cried. For the first time I let all the emotions out. It felt good. I repacked her bag with one set of clothes, and a soft blanket. And I hoped we get to put it on her soon. I stared at the empty crib next to my bed for hours before sleep overcame me.

To be continued…