NICU Life

It was a Friday morning. There were tornados in the city. Power was out everywhere. There were no traffic lights and the hospital was on backup generators. The hallways were dark.

I had gone through all the signs and symptoms of early labor.

"You'd be in more pain, go home."

We just so happened to be staying at a hotel near the hospital because I had developed pregnancy-induced cholestasis earlier in the week and needed to get two steroid injections 24 hours apart. When I went back to get my second injection, I asked the doctor about my symptoms.

They ran the usual tests and concluded that,

"You are not going to have these babies at thirty weeks. If you were in labor, you would know it because you’d be in more pain, go home."

Monday, three days later. My partner got home from work and said he is going to go out to cut the grass. I am sitting on the couch. I asked, "Could you hang around for a few minutes, I think I am in labor, but I can't tell because I am not feeling much pain. There's just this tensing feeling every five minutes or so. I think I should call the hospital and see what they say."

Thankfully, we had had our bags ready from our previous trip.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was five centimeters dilated. Lilah and Belle were both breach. I was transferred by ambulance to another hospital to have the surgery. My partner followed behind in the car.

The transferring hospital was ready and waiting when we arrived. I was immediately rushed to surgery.

Our girls came into the world just two minutes apart. As soon as they were born, they were taken away to be stabilized. I only caught a very quick glimpse of each of them as the doctor whisked them away to the adjoining operating room.

They could not yet breathe on their own because their lungs were not strong enough at this point. A baby’s lungs are the last thing to develop in utero. This is why I consider myself lucky for developing pregnancy cholestasis, a steroid injection is the same protocol when you’re suspected to be at risk of early labor, which would not have happened had I not had cholestasis. By fate alone, my daughters were given the exact medicine their lungs needed to help them survive being born this early.

This is NICU Life

Annabelle and Delilah had to have oxygen pumped into their lungs with a face mask, IV drips, nasal gastric tubes, light therapy, pic lines, and be placed in a heated isolette to stay alive. This is Neonatal Intensive Care, life support for babies. My husband took a video that night that to this day I have only watched once because seeing my tiny, fragile babies like that, not even being able to hold them or touch them while they’re going through so much, and feeling so incredibly helpless was the scariest thing I’ve ever faced. To this day, thinking about it makes me cry.

No one plans on having their baby stay in the NICU. Nobody counts on leaving the hospital without their child.

Many people envision their birthing stories as a picturesque moment where they get to cuddle and nurse their baby right after birth, I was one of these people. I didn't get to see Annabelle and Delilah for the first time until 30 hours after delivery. Seeing them hooked up to all that medical equipment hurt my heart.. They went from being in the warm comfort of my belly to this sterile box with hoses and apparatuses attached to them. I couldn't help but think how uncomfortable it must be. All I wanted to do was hold them, hug them, kiss them, and comfort them, but the only thing I was allowed to do was put my hand in the arm hole of the isolette and place it on their backs.

An excruciatingly long 72 hours later, I was finally allowed to hold my babies. Even then, there were strict rules in place on when, who, where, and how they could be loved, held, and cared for. Holding my babies for the first time was every bit as wonderful as I could have imagined and hoped. I wanted to hold onto them forever. I felt the most wonderful sensation that to this day, I still do not have the words to describe with any justice.

Preemies are the Ultimate Definition of Perseverance

Delilah and Annabelle were fighters. They were determined to grow and thrive. They were both off oxygen within a week and breathing on their own. Their condition continuously improved. We celebrated every tiny baby step with them.

The NICU would be Lilah and Belle's home for the next seven weeks. For the first four weeks, we drove back and forth to the hospital after my husband finished work, two and a half hours each way. On weekends, we’d stay in the hospital hotel. I cried every time I had to leave their side.

Once Belle and Lilah were stable enough to be transferred, they were sent by ambulance to a hospital a little closer to our home. I was able to get accommodations five minutes away, at a hospital house for ten dollars a night. I vowed to stay until my girls were ready to go home.

Home at Last

Every year, on November 7, we celebrate their NICU Graduation Day with the dinner of their choice and a few small gifts.

In the present day, Annabelle and Delilah are happy, healthy, snappy little sprites who are, kind, wonderful, fun, super smart, growing so fast, and so full of love!

There is not a day that goes by that I am not immensely grateful, the kind of grateful that brings tears to my eyes, a flutter in my heart, and butterflies in my tummy that my daughters are alive, home with us. Healthy and thriving.

I am eternally grateful for Neonatal Intensive Care, and my daughters' will to live.

I get to hug my babies.

Go hug your babies.