September is Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) Awareness month, and Postpartum Support Charleston wants to honor the mothers who have spent time with their babies in the NICU. Mom Anna Sanchez is bravely sharing her story with us about what it was like for her when her son was in the NICU.
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During my whole pregnancy, I had a ‘perfect’ vision of what my birth and postpartum looked like. I couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
I was diagnosed with preeclampsia at 33 weeks, and three days later I was admitted for severe features and was being induced. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, having JUST learned what preeclampsia was a few days prior. NICU nurses came by everyday updating me on what Mason’s care would look like, but I had no idea what would lie ahead.
Mason came a week later at 34 weeks, weighing 4 pounds 11 ounces and screaming his head off — which was a great sign. However, not too long after, my little fighter fought too hard to breathe on his own and ended up with a collapsed lung.
I was able to hold him for a few seconds while they wiped him off and the next time I saw him he was hooked up to a ventilator. The first time my husband and I went to see him was probably the most scared I have ever felt in my life. What was I going to see, feel, or how was I even going to react?
I was oddly calm. Too calm probably. My baby boy was on a ventilator, chest tube in place, numerous IV’s administering different things.
One of the biggest challenges I faced and still face seems very minuscule in comparison to everything we went through. But I never got that golden hour. I never got the chance to breastfeed (he had a feeding tube until a few days before we left). Who gave him his first bath or changed his first diaper? All the firsts I should’ve been doing, I wasn’t and I’ll never know.
Everyday I was there I held his little toes through the isolate and admired all his features through the bilirubin lights. I always had my phone on loud in case the nurses called, but prayed they didn’t.
For weeks, the closest I felt to my baby was when I was pumping around the clock. It was the only thing I felt I was doing right as a mom. As far as I knew, I had failed at everything else. I watched his monitors probably more than I watched him, and I’m so thankful we had the nurses we did. They kept me calm, and even when things looked bad, they somehow made it seem like this was all ‘normal.’
Every day we celebrated little triumphs. An ounce gained, 5ml of breastmilk administered, and an IV coming out. His daily x-rays and heel pricks looked better and better. There was hope.
Hope was the only thing that kept us going. We set target dates, but never rushed him. We soaked up as much knowledge as we could before we took him home.
The day came where we took him home and our new journey began. There were new firsts and new memories we created. I sometimes feel guilty talking about our NICU experience because Mason thankfully didn’t have anything catastrophic like some NICU families I have seen. However, what I’ve learned is that it’s not a debate or even some weird competition about who had it worse. We are all united by the grief we each experienced and the hole in our hearts left by leaving the hospital alone. A hole that will never truly heal.
Each day, when I look at Mason, I give thanks to those who reached out to us during such a difficult time and the nurses that never took a break, and I pray for those still sitting by their babies’ sides, hoping for better days.
For moms like Anna, the journey through those NICU days is excruciating. Having the support of loved ones and the medical staff can mean such a difference. So this month, let’s honor the many people supporting our NICU moms and their families.