Once Dylan was born and the NICU team had a chance to do some suctioning and check him out in the delivery room, they offered for Cameron to carry him upstairs. I still had to get my stiches, and deliver the placenta. Plus, I was pretty out of it, exhausted from labor and pushing, and had finally gotten some pain meds pushed through my IV. The nurse had held him up to me so I could see him, and kiss his sweet little swollen face. My arms were to shaky to hold or touch him, and then both he and Cameron were gone. I still wasn’t too worried, and frankly was still fairly focused on my own body. I was very relieved to have labor finished, and remember just wanting to be left alone. But the placenta took nearly twenty minutes to separate, and the Dr. had to also get things stiched up. Once that was all done I called my mom, had some food, and rested. I was aware Cameron was gone a long time, but wasn’t aware enough to be upset. He finally came back to the delivery room a few hours later empty handed, and told me the baby wouldn’t be coming back to our room. I was certainly dissapointed, but not yet too upset. Things that first night are pretty fuzzy, even for Cameron. I had an absolutely amazing nurse that night Vicki, who took amazing care of me. Cameron was truly exhausted and was sleeping on the day bed in the room. Vicki brought me snacks, and got me hooked on pudding and graham crackers, taught me how to use all the personal items for the stiches, helped me in and out of my bed so I could use the bathroom, and helped me remember my advil, and got me something alittle stronger to help with that first night. I set my alarm and every 2-3 hours pumped for ten minutes to try to get my milk started. When I got the tinyest bit of colostrum, we suctioned it out of the pump with a tiny oral syringe, and someone took it up to the NICU for Dylan.
Around maybe 8 pm or so Cameron wheeled me up to the NICU so I could finally take a good look at our son. I couldn’t really stand, and he was in this tall large bed that had a heating lamp overhead. At first I wasn’t even sure I could touch him, but nurse Valery assured me gentle pressure from an open hand was fine. Cameron stayed really strong, and had already been by his side for hours, so he was already used to seeing baby attached to monitors, and in this weird space. Nurse Valery was by Dylan’s side, tenderly caring for him, adjusting his tubes, and watching his monitors. She offered for me to hold him, and that brought me to tears because I didn’t expect that I would get to. She placed him in my arms as I sat in a recliner next to his bed, and we had to watch all the tubes and wires coming off of him. I didn’t get to hold him for more than about 30 seconds and his monitors started going off, and he vomited up some of the amniotic fluid that he had swallowed. The nurse deemed me “baptized” and had to take him back. It was a bit too much stimulation for him to be held just yet. Cameron and I stayed another ten or fifteen minutes just watching him, and he wheeled me back for some much needed rest. I woke Cameron back up around 3 or 4 AM and asked him to wheel me back. I just got to look and touch gently this time, but I felt very compelled to be back in the same space as my baby boy. I was starting to feel the gravity of the situation, and the gravity of being a new mommy. I continued to pump every 2-3 hours throughout the night and next morning.
At seven AM we were back in his room in the NICU, and my OB met us there and decided I would stay another nigth to recover myself. Moving around was painful and exhausting, I still didn’t have very much energy, and even a few steps made my legs shaky. There was absolutely no talk of Dylan coming home, and I think that was good because it meant I didn’t get my hopes up. Just like in labor, when all I could focus on was getting through each contraction, we focused on getting through each moment of our new ordeal. Dylan was safe, being cared for by an amazing team of doctors and nurses, and I still had to get some strength back. In the meantime Cameron and I had our room and beds to rest and try to relax in. We spent a few hours in our room, then a few hours with Dylan, going back and forth as often as I could. I remember being wheeled past other baby’s rooms, and seeing their doors decorated with their name, and themes like cars or trains for the boys and flowers for the girls. I remember thinking that meant those babies had been there a long time, and weren’t going home any time soon. So in a way, Dylan’s plain door with no mention of who was inside gave me hope.
