Long Story

My beautiful son made his entrance into the world on July 19th at 8:37 PM. He was whisked away quickly and passed off to a special care team because he wasn’t breathing on his own. I didn’t get to hold him or touch him. I barely remember the 30 seconds he was on my stomach. They put my legs up into stirrups directly after so I couldn’t see what was going on. I sent my wonderful husband over to be with him. I didn’t want our little man to be alone. I don’t remember hearing him cry, I did hear muffled noises. At this point I couldn’t tell how many people where in the room. I had a midwife, 2 nurses and my wonderful husband who I knew where there and helped with the birthing process but I couldn’t tell you how many people where behind the curtain waiting for my son. I had another midwife enter the room who was going to put me back together as the other one was only there for the hour covering the open time slot. She ended up staying for the entire birth process and was completely amazing and super encouraging. The second midwife took over the gross job of putting me back together. We talked about knitting patterns. My husband entered the room with a nurse practitioner and both looked somber. I was nervous. What were they going to tell me? My son didn’t make it? I didn’t hear much because to my left was a nurse taking vitals, at my feet was a midwife stitching me up still, and to my right was my husband and nurse practitioner. She spoke and I heard the words he’s fine, best thing for him and transport. In a nutshell, when he decided not to breathe his body didn’t take in the oxygen he needed and his body took it from other places. They were worried about brain damage. Cooling therapy was his best chance of healing and the sooner the better. However it wasn’t done at the hospital we were in but a few miles away at a different one which is an advantage of living in a bigger city. My husband started making phone calls trying to get all the emotional support we needed from our own mothers. He went back to be with our son and I got a dose of phentanol to cope with the stitching pain. I ended up with 3 2nd degree tears and 1 1st degree all natural. My husband didn’t want to leave me and since they moved my son, I didn’t want him to be alone. Soon my mother showed up and for a while it was the three of us. I was in tears and still didn’t know what was going on. The nurse practitioner came in and explained everything again as he first time I was in no state to understand any of it. They were going to bring my son by as soon as they were ready and they were going to bring him to a hospital that did the treatment. At midnight or so, time is a blur. It moved fast and slow at the same time. They wheeled him in on a gurney. He was in an isolette with all the gizmos and gadgets attached. My husband said it looked like a spaceship. I wanted to touch my son. I wanted to see him. However with all the materials and the stitching I needed assistance to even sit up and reach forward. The grasp lasted all of 10 seconds. I again couldn’t tell you how many people where I the room. It felt like 20. I bawled my eyes out this entire time. Then I had to sign paperwork so they could take my son. It was explained to me what I was signing but I couldn’t tell you. I had physical contact with my son for less than a minute and they were taking him from me. I was heartbroken. This wasn’t what I imagined at all. I was moved to postpartum. Luckily they had removed all the baby items from the room as to not add to an open wounded heart. I had our my mother, mother in law, husband and sister in law in my room. My son was in an ambulance moving to a different hospital. I decided that he needed to have someone with him. My husband was the logical choice. If I moved as a patient, it would have cost us so much and we would have lost everything. Sending my husband off to be with my newborn was hard. My mom stayed with me so I wasn’t alone. My heart hurt. I went to sleep at 2:30 in the morning with a promise to discharge as soon as possible. I was woken up to use the bathroom and attempt to pump. Both painful experiences. The aide wasn’t very helpful and assumed as a first time mom, I knew what I was doing. I was discharged at 2:30 that afternoon and went straight to where my son was. I had been in communication with my husband and knew my son had a rough night and my husband was tackling it alone. My son got agitated and held his breath for upwards of 40 seconds which caused all of his stats to drop and he was on seizure watch as well. I arrived at the new hospital, Children’s. And didn’t know where I was going so I called my husband in tears. I just wanted to see and touch my son for more than a minute. I got to the NICU, and saw my baby with tubes and wires. It didn’t bother me because I got to see him. The rest of the day was a blur. Family visiting, my siblings blowing up my phone with texts left and right.

We are now a few hours away from warming him up and me holding him for the first time. He’s doing so much better. He’s breathing on his own. I’m healing too. Soon I’ll get to hold him for the very first time.