thoughts on the birth and the NICU experience.

The first time I saw my little Lu, in the NICU.

Two months later, I am just starting to get my thoughts straight on just what the hell happened with Luka's birth. I mean, wow. What a whirlwind of crazy that was. So many emotions went with having an emergency birth and a new baby in critical condition, not to mention being hormonal. The biggest thing I dealt with personally was guilt. I kept blaming myself for his condition, as if I could have done something to prevent it. At the hospital, it was never really adequately explained why there was distress in utero. I was told that my placenta was calcified, but not why or how. After talking to my OB, I found out I have no risk factors for such a thing. I'm not a smoker, a drug user, no high blood pressure, my diabetes was well controlled. I was sure the diabetes had something to do with it, though my doctor insists it does not. He said that sometimes placentas start out not so great, then get worse as the pregnancy progresses. Still, all of Lu's paperwork has "gestational diabetes" listed as a maternal complication. I have had to work through the guilt though, as it is unfounded and doesn't do anyone any good. I had the best pregnancy I could have, and we have a beautiful kid to show for it. A quarter of a million dollar kid, to boot. Yes, his hospital bill, before insurance, is more than a quarter of a million dollars. We don't know exactly how much we owe yet. Not that it matters, because we aren't giving him back!

I've heard lots of people say that their birth plan went out the window when the birth actually happened. And it's true that you can't always plan things to a tee. And damn, did my plan ever go out the window! I planned for a natural birth, with lots of guided imagery and breathing, showers and back massages from my husband. I planned to breast feed immediately, and have our son stay in the hospital room with us for lots of immediate bonding. What I got instead was an unexpected emergency c-section, completely knocked out with general anesthesia. Followed by 24 hours of heavy sedation, unable to stand up to be carted to see my son in NICU, or even focus on what his doctor was telling me about his condition. The whole thing was so confusing and terrifying. I had to keep reminding myself that I wasn't still pregnant, since I had no recollection of the birth. I found myself patting my belly and talking to him, not ready to accept that he was fighting for his life two floors beneath me.When my catheter was out and the morphine was wearing off, I finally was able to go see the little guy. I stood there by his tiny little hospital bed, looking a mess in my thrift store pajamas. I cried, and cried, and cried, while the nurse kept urging me to sit back down in the wheelchair. I asked questions about when Luka could come home, and how long it would be before I could hold him. All questions about his future were met with a brick wall. It hurt, and I know now that they weren't being mean, they just didn't want us to get our hopes up because they didn't know if Luka was going to be okay or not.


next entry, Lu's month in the NICU. Or, how not to take a nurse's shitty attitude personally.