Nothing could have prepared me for those long and painful
days After Kai was born. I was still so scared to love him, but I was so
worried and almost obsessed with him. I felt like I had tried so hard, but had
failed him. I wrestled with guilt and anger and fear. I began pumping
faithfully to provide for him, and didn't have much to show for it. I struggled
to eat, or do anything for myself because it felt selfish when he was fighting
so hard.
I was amazed at how he was so strong and so fragile all at once. At almost 27 weeks gestation, he was wholly formed- every organ system was in place, but having to work when they should still be in the safe and growing in the nurturing womb.
His skin was see through and they told us that every touch was painful and irritating, but the more firm pressure we could apply, the better it would feel for him. His bed was temperature and humidity controlled and covered with a blanket to keep it dark. We washed and scrubbed and sanitized to open the little door on his isolette and place a firm hand on his body. Each time we opened the door it changed his environment and we balanced the knowledge that our presence and touch was healing for him, but it was also painful and exhausting. All of the "normal" ways we think of comforting our baby flew out the window. No cuddles, no patting, no rubbing. We learned to only engage one sensory experience at a time. If we were touching him, it was better not to talk. If we were talking, it was better that his bed was covered and not too much light was coming in. Of course sometimes I found myself whispering to him through the whole touch time. I wanted him to know I was there. The amazing thing was that the nurses would tell us that his heart rate and breathing would change the moment we walked into the room. He could sense or smell us long before we ever reached his side. So I sat there, day and and day out, as he slept, knowing that my presence was a comfort.
At a few days old, I heard him cry for the first time... like the fast, high pitched whimper of a new puppy. I promptly stuck my phone in the little armhole to record it. I still listen to it in amazement that this tiny little person has grown into such a plump healthy boy.
The first couple of weeks we got lots of scary news. Kai had bleeding in his brain, and then he got very sick. They started antibiotics right away and we later found out he had pneumonia. All I could think of was that I gave it to him. I put my phone in his bed to hear his voice and I put germs in his safe little cocoon. I was terrified that he would not be strong enough to fight it and it was my fault. Fear and grief can wreak havoc on the mind.
I was still weak and getting back my stamina and energy from being on bed rest, but my mom and JC took me up to the hospital as often as they could. When I wasn't there, he was all I thought about. I pumped and worried, pumped and worried in a continuous cycle.
Kai required blood transfusions,a lot of medication, and special procedures in those early days. The doctor kindly explained them to me and often asked for permission to proceed. The nurse would hand over a document that explained the risks and benefits and I was supposed to be the adult who signed and said it was ok to poke and prod on my tiny baby and give him the strangest sounding medications. I didn't feel equipped to handle these decisions. I would look over the forms but the words didn't make sense. It was like daydream reading, when you realize you've read a few pages and have no idea what they said, except it felt very high stakes. I didn't know anything, so if the doctor told me Kai needed something I had to trust him. I was supposed to sign and give permission, yet I felt I had no choice in the matter at all. I often take responsibility for things that aren't really even mine to worry about, so it was the most unnerving feeling to have a child that I couldn't care for. I was completely dependent on other people to keep him safe, healthy and alive.
We didn't get to hold him for over a week, and the first time we did it was just to lift him and his little blanket bundle off of his bed. And there we stood for our first family picture, with our little 2 lb. miracle baby.
He was the youngest and sickest baby in the NICU for quite some time. Lots of times there was an "all hands on deck" situation, trying to get his oxygen and heart rate stable. Alarms went off and lights flashed and I looked at these numbers on a screen that seemed to hold so much power. I wrestled with what ifs every day. It took a while, but I finally had to rest in the fact that all of these machines sustained Kai, but it was God who gave him life.
