A Time for Reflection

The birth of a child is one of the most important and often happiest times for a parent. Holding that newborn just minutes or even seconds after giving birth must be an amazing feeling for a mother.

I say must, because, although I am a mother... it was nearly 24 hours after her birth before I was able to hold my little girl. Even then, I could only hold her for a couple of minutes.

Googie was born on July 21, 2005... 10 days before her actual due date. Her birth was induced, because my doctor was concerned she would be too big to deliver if we waited until the due date. The Hub and I were very impatient about meeting our little one, so when the doc said let's do it early... well we jumped at the chance.

I was induced on July 21. I spent hours on a pitocin drip to bring on labor. My body didn't respond and it was decided I'd need a c-section to deliver my little one. I won't bore you with the details of how my epidural didn't work properly, so I felt every bit of the c-section. (Seriously, just ask my sister. I'll never forget the look of horror on her face as I screamed every single expletive ever known to man... and probably a few new ones!)

All of that was unimportant the moment my daughter was born. I remember the Hub bringing her over to me so I could see her. I remember looking at her perfect head, her sweet face... and I remember them taking her away. Then the pain medicine they were unable to give me during the operation kicked in. I don't remember much else for about 30 minutes or so.

Googie was born at 7:03pm. She weighed a healthy 8 pounds, 2 ounces and was 20.5 inches long. She was perfect... except for one thing. Her lungs. They just weren't doing their job properly. When the staff in the special care nursery tried to take her off oxygen, her sat levels would drop.

When I was being moved to my regular hospital room from labor and delivery, the nurses took me by to see my little one. I touched her little hand and whispered to her how very much I loved her. I was still a little out of it, but I remember thinking how weird it was to be going to my hospital room without my daughter.

The next day, I had friends and family come by to visit me at the hospital. Still, there was no newborn in my room with me. Googie was still on oxygen in the nursery. I remember feeling nothing. I didn't feel like a new mom. I felt like I was recovering from an operation. Now, I look back and I'm a little angry at how "complacent" I was with the hospital staff. I'm not sure why I was that way... why I didn't ask more questions... push more. I felt empty. I felt sad. And today, more than 10 months later... I still feel so very guilty. Maybe if I had pushed more, asked more... maybe Googie would have never gotten so sick. Maybe...

I held Googie for the first time, when she was nearly 24 hours old. I was only allowed to hold her for a few minutes. The nurses didn't want her out from under the oxygen hood for very long. I remember hearing her cry and fuss. She was hungry but she couldn't be fed.

After a while of sitting next to her and talking to her, taking photos and just holding her hand, The Hub and I walked back to my hospital room. I remember walking down the hallway, hearing the other mothers in their rooms with their babies. I remember the emptiness I felt in my heart... in my arms. Still, the nurses said everything was ok. Googie was just taking her time. She'd be fine. I was told I was welcome anytime in the special care nursery.

Late Friday night, I sent The Hub home. He was exhausted. Our dogs and cats needed to be fed. He needed some rest. I settled in for the night... well, as much as one can settle in when you have nurses coming in every 4 hours or so to take your darn vital signs! Around 2 or 3 am, I got up to go to the bathroom after one of the afore mentioned nurse visits. Now, if you've never experienced a c-section... or major abdominal surgery for that matter... let me just tell you... trying to do ANYTHING is extremely painful. Walking, sitting up, lying down, rolling over, getting up, breathing, coughing, sneezing. It all hurts.

Anyway, I was finishing up in the bathroom when I heard a knock on my door. It was one of the special care nurses. Through the bathroom door she told me there was an emergency. Googie had turned blue. She was barely breathing. A NICU transport team had been called. They were taking my baby away. The neonatologist would be in very soon to tell me everything.

I remember frantically calling the Hub, my sister and my mother. I remember trying to be calm as I woke them from a dead sleep. My Sis actually had to drive to my house and use her key to get inside to wake the Hub up. I remember sitting alone in my hospital room when the doctor came in to tell me Googie needed to be put on a ventilator to breathe. I remember him saying that had to be done at the NICU. I remember thinking my baby girl was going to die. I remember the feeling of my heart breaking at that moment, both because I was so sure she was going to die... and because I was so sure it was all my fault.

I sat on the edge of my bed, alone, for what seemed like hours. By the time the NICU transport team from USA Children's and Women's Hospital had arrived, the Hub, my sister and my mom and step dad were with me. I had to sign forms to allow them to take Googie. They let me give her "Lola the Cow", a stuffed animal that was a gift from one of my best friends. I remember telling Googie I loved her... and I felt in my heart it was the last time I would get to see her alive. Then, they wheeled my little girl out of the room. My family left after awhile, promising to come back a little later in the morning.

I remember I just laid on my bed and cried. I held a photo of my dad and prayed to him to stay with Googie, to keep her company, to keep her safe, to keep her alive.
When the doctor on call made her morning rounds, I remember begging her to discharge me from the hospital. She refused. I remember being in tears as I asked her if I could simply leave for a few hours to go see Googie. Again, I was told no. The Hub went to see Googie in the NICU. He said she was resting comfortably and her breathing seemed better. My mom, stepdad and sister went to see her too. They gave me words of encouragement. But words can't help when you are miles away from your newborn.

I was released from the hospital Sunday afternoon. I wanted to go straight to the NICU to see Googie, but it was almost time for them to close for shift change. So I waited. Part of me was relieved to wait. I wasn't sure I was ready to see my little girl on a ventilator. I still remember how much my body shaked as I walked into the hospital.

I remember my hands shaking as I washed and dried them at the "decontamination station". I remember barely breathing as I put on the yellow gown. I remember how weak my knees felt as the Hub led the way to Googie's bed amidst what seemed like a sea of tiny baby bassinets made of plastic.

Googie's NICU nurse came over and introduced herself and gave us an update. There were IV's, tubes and wires everywhere. But I remember how caring the nurse was. I have said this since the day I met the staff of the NICU and I'll say it until the day I die. It takes a very special person to work in a neonatal intensive care unit. It's amazing.

Googie, because she was a c-section baby, did not have the fluid squeezed out of her lungs during delivery since she did not travel through the birth canal. Her lungs were not quite fully developed so they could not handle the fluid. She developed pneumonia.
The NICU nurses assured me what Googie was experiencing was not uncommon. They promised there would be no lingering effects, that when Googie had finally recovered... it would be like nothing had ever happened.

They were right. After 10 days in the NICU, Googie was finally released from the hospital on August 4, 2005. Three days after her scheduled due date.
It took me a long time to have the courage to put my feelings into words. More than 10 months, to be exact. I feel better for writing it.