Life in the NICU

My brother sent me the link to this article: Never Let Go. 

It is a beautifully written account of learning to love and care for a micro-preemie with the help of the outstanding men and women who choose to work in a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

I had to read it in stages, as it brought me right back to the side of Elias's isollette, with my hand cupping his fragile head, wondering if he would make it through the night.

 

For NICU parents and  staff, you will recognize yourself in Kelly Benham's words.

For everyone else, this is a glimpse into this surreal world where medicine and motherhood merged for me (and so may other Moms)-- and through science, technology and the faith of a tiny hand with the power to squeeze my finger, I became Elias's Mama.

Comments

[Blanche]

Thank you for sharing this story.

Even with a mostly healthy 33.5 weeker, the NICU is a strange and surreal world. To use her words, "the things I'd been too dazed to comprehend" just about sums up my memories of our own unexpected time there.

Happy New Year to you and your family!

[Jenny F. Scientist, PhD]

I originally read that article via Phantom's List (phantomslist.blogspot.com - a compilation of excellent writing by women!) and cried my eyes out. And my kids were born at 39+5 and 40+5, so I attribute it solely to the author's amazingly powerful narrative- moving without being saccharine or unscientific, which I very much appreciated.

[Kate]

Oh Christy this was hard to read!! Just a little glimpse of what it would be like to live it. Renewed appreciation and awe of all these parents and babies go through. I have no other words. Glad you shared it.

[Lin]

I made it to halfway through part 2 before starting to cry. I feel so lucky for what my preemie avoided, what he grew out of and the few relatively minor challenges he still has. It was 13 years ago this coming Sunday that he was born at 2:02 in the morning.

[Kimberly]

Thank you for sharing this link. My gal was a full term baby who was severely oxygen deprived. The doctors and nurses at our local hospital worked so long to get a heartbeat and we are so grateful that they did not give up on her despite the grave prognosis. Reluctantly Hopkins NICU took her. It seemed obscene, this 7 pound baby in a sea of preemies. I couldn't believe that after having a 'perfect' pregnancy that I was in the NICU now with my child in the most critical bed. Global Neurologic Devastation. Although the context is different, the physical and emotional trauma is the same. After she seemed to declare death we were being prepared with DNR talk at 2 weeks. We simply prayed and relented to God's grace and mercy. Within 3 days she rallied and even learned to breastfeed by 6 weeks of age. She has some mild deficits, but are minimal compared to the 'family meeting' prognoses for her. She dances beautifully, learned to read at 3, and even plays songs on the organ for church services. She loves to write her name in cursive and thinks clever things like 'mommy, dance is like walking in cursive.' She is proud to wear a bikini and not ashamed of the G-tube scar. I sometimes permit that dangerous thought of what if we relented to a DNR, what we truly would have lost. I look back on those NICU days in raw turmoil and golden triumph. I'm grateful though that we weren't dictated by statistics. I am grateful that we didn't see that life was only worth it if we could only have perfection. We embraced the potentials because love transcends them.

[Christy]

I agree that this is a really well-written account of the NICU. I like that we see the experience from the perspective of the nurses and doctors as well as the Mom's. I too cried throughout and I even read it over a couple of days, in part because my kids interrupted me and in part because I needed to take it in doses.

Kimberly, when Elias was in the NICU and still didn't weigh much more than a pound and a half there was a nine pound baby across from him who had breathing complications. I remember thinking the baby's cheeks were as big as my son's body:) I am so glad your little girl is doing so well!

Whenever I read of preemies catching up and surviving without disabilities a part of me wonders what our life would be like if Elias didn't have a head bleed. And yet another part of me feels like I could say to that Mom standing by the isollette, fearing the worst when those head x-rays come back that the worst scenario imaginable doesn't always turn out bad. There is unexpected joy and wonder and beauty in disability. And we are all strong enough to put together a life that though different than we planned is still wonderful.