When I think of mothers, moments after giving birth, I don’t think of the NICU.
Instead, I think of pictures of women holding their newborns in the first minutes of life. When my pregnancy came to an unexplained and early halt, I didn’t think about photographing my baby’s first cry. I only thought about my baby’s health and safety.
What happened
My contractions started one night during my seventh month of pregnancy. I assumed they were Braxton Hicks. I had a doctor’s appointment the next day, so I went to bed without another thought about the pain that woke me all through the night. The next day, I went straight from the OB/GYN’s office to the hospital. Two days later, my son was born at 30 weeks gestational age. He came into the world healthy but available only to my eyes and not my arms. I couldn’t hold my son because he had to go straight to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). I had no idea what to expect, as I had never intimately heard another parent’s NICU story.
The life of a mother in the NICU
I, like many other parents with a child in the NICU, focused on the task at hand: keeping my baby healthy. This left little room for processing the events and emotions that unfolded in and out of the NICU. It was explained to me by NICU nurses and doctors that my baby’s well-being depended on my ability to provide for him, specifically by pumping breastmilk and offering skin-to-skin time.
These demands on my body (pumping at least every four hours, anyone?), commuting one hour each way to and from the hospital (without traffic), and the stress of having a baby, pre-term no less, piled up. With massive sleep deprivation and heaps of stress, it is no wonder my memory suffered. On my son’s second day in the NICU, I introduced myself to his doctor, not realizing we’d met the day before. I didn’t remember her name or face. My mind was wiped blank. Remember, I was in labor for over two days and pumping every four hours. The doctor encouraged me to go home and get some rest. Despite my delirium, more sleep felt like the last thing I needed. I needed to be with my son as much as possible. Nursing my own health was my last concern while my son was learning to eat and breathe at the same time.
People don’t want to talk about the NICU
For support, I reached out to women who I knew had spent time in the NICU, but no one really wanted to talk about the NICU. Most of the women I contacted told me the story of their child’s stay at the NICU and the logistics of theirs. Not many were willing to reveal how terrified they were. All parents can relate to the fear of losing a child. When that fear is heightened and sustained, it changes a person inexplicably.
My advice, my plea
For those of you who are still at the NICU or have been there and haven’t talked about it, talk about it. We need to create more communities for NICU families to talk about this incredibly difficult experience and how it shapes us as caregivers.
I’d love to hear your story. Because mine needs company.
Resources that have helped me:
Hand to Hold
The March of Dimes
Graham’s Foundation
Postpartum Support International
Thank you so much for sharing your story! I also had a NICU baby and know what you mean when you describe being in such a daze. It’s like a time warp. We had to say goodbye to our daughter Marlowe after 39 days fighting for her life. The doctors and nurses all hold a special place in our hearts.
My condolences to you and your family and thanks so much for sharing. Every NICU mom has a deeply personal story that has so much power when shared.
I was just thinking about our NICU experience today…my daughter started 3rd grade today, and doing so well. But it haunts me that a NICU nurse actually said to me, “If she were born 30 years ago, we would have let her die”. I will never forget that horrible statement to a mother struggling with her preemie in the NICU.
NICU experiences suck no matter the outcome. It takes years to process.
I’m so sorry to hear that stays with you, Jamie, but I’m also so glad to hear that your daughter is doing well.