I watched quietly as they wheeled you in to meet your tiny baby for the first time.
Remembering how scary it felt for me, I give you an understanding smile, "Congratulations".
I listen to the nurse give you the run down of what each tube, wire and monitor is for.. I don't need to look at you to know that you're not taking any of it in.
I wish I could tell you that it will all be ok, but I can't.. no one can.
I was there when they brought your baby in. He looked so tiny under all that tubing.
As I watched on in disbelief, that a baby so incredibly small could even be in this world, I felt tears begin to fill my eyes. I wished I could take some photos for you so that you didn't feel like you missed so much.
I remember meeting my son for the first time, 9 whole hours later, and wondering what had happened to him in all those hours. What did I miss? I'd never know. Over the months to come, you'll find that there is so much time that goes by unaccounted for.
I see the bruises on your arms from weeks of cannulas and blood tests. Every single one, a reminder of how hard you tried to hold on.
You'll look at those bruises during your first shower at home and fall apart at the thought of what they stand for.. at the thought of your tiny baby fighting the fight of their life while you get to go home. You're about to experience the hardest days of your life.
You'll learn an entirely new vocabulary. By the end of this, you'll know the names of a hundred different medications and how they work, and you'll find yourself using medical terminology when you talk about your baby, because you don't know any other way to describe the shit they're going through.
Your heart will be in your throat every time your phone rings. You're about to spend the next weeks ensuring you always have your phone on you.. it's never on silent.. and you hurry the heck up when you do take a call.
The second that NICU number flashes on your screen, you'll answer quicker than you've ever answered a phone before.
You'll find yourself wishing that they'd skip polite introductions and tell you what's wrong.
People are going to say some really hurtful things to you. They don't mean to hurt you. They just don't know any better.
They'll say things like, "At least you don't have to wake up during the night" or "Enjoy the time you have while he's in the hospital". Really! People will say that.
Some days you'll just let it slide as you smile politely and agree with their naivety. Some days, you'll lose your shit and the look on their face is going to make you feel like you have completely lost your mind.
Your new word is about to be 'common'.
Nothing about this is 'normal'. You'll find yourself asking if what is happening with your baby is 'normal' and, more often than not, the answer nurses and doctors give you will be, 'it's common'.
You're going to feel like you have some level of depression. You won't be sure. You'll question if it's 'baby blues' or if it's full blown depression.
You'll brush it off as a bad few days. How else are you supposed to feel when you have to leave your baby in the hospital each night? But every few days, you'll have a really horrible time, and you'll wonder.
You're going to hate it. All you will think about is all the plans you had.
The sweet little outfit you wanted to take him home in..
All those ideas you had for the 'first photo'..
How you'd spend your time together getting to know him, at home, as a family..
How you'd dress him up in that cute onesie and matching beanie and show him off as you sat and sipped coffee with the girls..
I'm sorry that this is how it starts for your little boy.
I'm sorry that you have to feel the pain of 'touch-and-go'.
I'm sorry that you'll feel that sinking feeling when the neonatologists ask for a meeting with you to discuss your baby's care.
I'm sorry that your heart is so full of love for this little darling, but so full of sadness too.
But I want you to know something.
I want you to know that, although this time is going to be draining, it will change how you look at life and all your 'have nots'.
You are about to see your child fight for every breath.. and you're going to see them miss a few.. or a lot.. but he's about to show you that he's got this, Mama.. and so do you!
But, more importantly, I want you to know that there's a community of mums like you, white-knuckling it through this rollercoaster ride, just hoping like hell for no more 'surprises'. No more infections. No more viruses. No more drops. No more setbacks. And even though you'll find a thousand mums who have babies going through the exact same thing as your baby, he's still your baby, and nothing about that makes it easier.
Some days he's going to feel like he can't fight. He's been fighting for so long and he just can't do it today. The team looking after your baby will turn his oxygen up.. pump up the pressure a little.. maybe boost his caffeine.
It's ok for him to rest some days. He needs to! ..but so do you, Mama.
Don't let yourself run so thin that you aren't looking after yourself, because that's a huge part of what is about to get you through the next few months.
It's a shit fight.
It's messy.
It's unpredictable.
And you're about to see how dirty 'life' fights.
Fight back.
Take it all in.
Educate yourself and know what's going on with your baby.
Ask questions.
Speak up.
Stand your ground.
This is Motherhood 2.0. It's undefined and it's all uphill. But you've got this.. and so does he.
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