Earlier this week you read parts 1 and 2 of Barbara’s story: her son Asher’s birth and his first few days in the NICU. Today, she writes about the end of his stay, and the happiest moment of all: bringing him home.
Lucie did not understand much of what was going on that first week. I showed her photos of Asher on my iPad. She would point to them and say, “Baby Asher,” but she had no comprehension of who he was to her.
We established a routine. We would wake up at 4:30 a.m. Jonathan and I would shower, get Lucie ready for daycare, and eat a small breakfast. Then, Jonathan would drop me off at the hospital at 5:45 before taking Lucie to daycare at 6:30. After that, he would go to work. When he left work for the day, he would pick me up from the hospital and Lucie from daycare. Then, we would go home and eat dinner, I would express some breast milk, and I would send Jonathan back to the hospital with the pumped milk to be used that night overnight and to cuddle Asher.
I would try to reserve a parent room outside the SCN each morning. There are three available on a first-come, first-served basis. They each have a pullout couch and a sink for washing breast pump parts, and the hospital food service will deliver meals to the rooms. Since the SCN closes three times during the day to take vitals and run tests, I would take advantage of these times to catch a small nap and to express breast milk.
I hate to admit it, but I did take more naps than just when the SCN was closed. I wanted to take every opportunity to hold Asher, to love on him with kangaroo care (skin to skin bonding), and be present for his medical exams, but I would be no good to him if I could not keep my eyes open. If I fell asleep in one of the chairs in the SCN, I could easily have dropped Asher.
I also needed a chance to physically heal. If Asher had been able to come home when I did, I probably would not have left my bedroom except to use the bathroom and go to the kitchen for food. I had to keep reminding myself not to overdo it. I was running on empty.
Asher’s breathing improved as time passed. Time was really the only thing that could heal his lungs. Then, he had to learn how to eat. He was used to food being put directly in his stomach through a tube. Eating was a lot more work for him, and he was confused about breastfeeding, since he had been given a pacifier at two days old, then a bottle at six days old, before being introduced to breastfeeding at seven days old.
The criteria for Asher to be allowed to come home were as follows: breathing room oxygen, regulating body temperature, and eating on his own by either bottle or breast 8 consecutive times in 24 hours. Since Asher’s problems were lung-related, I never imagined it would affect his ability to eat.
Unfortunately, Asher’s respiration rate was still high when he was one week old. The higher his respiration rate, the higher the risk is that he would aspirate breast milk into his lungs. After teaching Asher to eat, I thought getting eight feedings in by mouth would be no problem.
What we did not realize was that the first two days, Asher’s respiration rate increased when I left for the night, so his nurses would tube-feed him during the night rather than attempt to calm him so he could be fed orally. This reset the clock and meant we’d need to wait longer for him to hit eight consecutive feedings. When I realized this, I was so mad I told Jonathan I wanted to camp out at the hospital in a parent room overnight so I could bring my baby home.
I was hysterical, and Jonathan could not understand why. He thought I wanted to kidnap Asher from the hospital, which was not the case, but the idea made me giggle, since Asher had a GPS device attached. I wouldn’t get as far as the elevator without setting off alarms and he was my own son!
In the end, I did not end up camping out in a parent room because the neonatalogist prescribed a dose of Lasix to help remove the last traces of amniotic fluid from Asher’s lungs. It would also help him lose the bloat he obtained from spending his first days receiving IV fluids. He’d have to stay overnight for 48 hours after this. I agreed with Jonathan that I would go home and sleep in my own bed since there was no chance Asher could come home at that point.
The next morning, April 21, Lucie was not feeling well, and I knew at that point, Asher was in good hands at the hospital. I felt comfortable with the nurse on rotation that day, so I stayed home to care for Lucie. I called in to the hospital a few times to check on whether they had enough stored breast milk for Asher.
At lunchtime, the nurse told me that the doctor had completed Asher’s discharge form, which took me by complete surprise! I was previously advised he would be there until the next day at the very least. The nurse told me all I had to do to bring him home that day was to pass my CPR knowledge quiz (a requirement for parents bringing home NICU babies with lung problems), and bring an approved car seat to drive Asher home safely.
I wanted to pick Asher up immediately, but Lucie was not allowed in the NICU since she is too young. I had to wait for Jonathan to get off from work. I was very impatient. When Jonathan called to tell me he was on his way home, I asked him to meet me at the hospital. Jonathan stayed in a parent room with Lucie while I went into the NICU to sign all of Asher’s release papers, perform 5 rounds of CPR on an inflatable baby dummy, and pack up all of the personal things we had accumulated during the past 11 days.
It was the moment I had been waiting and praying for, yet I was scared out of my mind. I was afraid I would not be able to properly care for Asher at home.
That first night home, I had serious doubts about my ability to feed him, as Asher woke up every half hour to eat. In the SCN, he’d been limited on how much he was allowed to eat from each bottle. But once he learned that Mom is an all-you-can-eat buffet, he went back for seconds, and thirds, and fourths — all night long. I don’t think I was able to get much sleep that first week he was home. I’m still a little sleep-deprived, five weeks later.
I can manage with that lack of sleep, though, since that means that my son is safe at home, in his mommy and daddy’s arms, where he belongs.
