My first baby was born at 24.5 weeks gestation which made us about 6 months pregnant. My husband and I were both 29 years old at the time. The Mighty Griffin, as he became known at the University of CO Anschutz hospital in Aurora, CO, was born 1lb. 12oz and 12 inches long on October 21st; 10 years ago now. His birthday was unfortunately not one of the best days of my life, like it is for most Mothers. It was the most terrifying and exciting day of my life. Exciting like climbing the tallest and scariest roller coaster ride. The day we brought him home on February 7th was one of the best days of my life for sure.
In the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, I was able to hold my new baby for the first time at around 1 week after his birth. That was the most phenomenal feeling of my life. A rush of new Mama chemicals soared through me like electricity sizzling. My body came alive with remembrance and love of this new child. I remembered him and really knew him on the outside finally. When I held him that first time, skin to skin, the nurses stood by to watch his vitals on the monitor for signs of distress. It was common for him to have As&Bs episodes (Apnea & bradycardia) and the nurses all knew this. For the first time since he was born his vitals all settled down in a slow and steady rhythm in tune with mine . He was calm, comforted and centered with me. “Kangaroo care” became a daily occurance from my husband or I for the next year of his life. During those times I took the opportunity to sing to him, meditate and also visualize his body growing, stretching or fighting the cold bug who once entered his little body.
At birth, Griffin had a brain hemorrhage on both sides of his brain, which we were told may necessitate a shunt surgery if the blood didn’t drain. I decided to try visualizing the brain healing itself during kangaroo care. I pictured in my mind his brain and the blood draining back into the rest of the body.
A couple weeks or days later he had a follow up brain scan and the baffled doctors shared that his bleeding had drained on its own.
Another time our son started to develop Retinopathy of Prematurity. Again during Kangaroo Care time, Dad and I visualized, like watching on a projector screen, what a typically developing healthy eyeball looks like inside and out. I pulled up photos on my phone for reference. After several months the Mighty Griffin’s ROP resolved on its own and he never needed corrective surgery.
Things I have learned since birthing a premature baby and having a NICU stay is no matter how long a parent, especially the Mother, is separated from the newborn baby it is traumatizing. I have seen it in many Mothers’ eyes. The pain of sustained separation and not knowing when or if the child will come home is emotionally earth-shattering. The echoes of PTSD are real for NICU families. Please know families, friends and medical professionals of NICU babies that postpartum depression, anxiety and/or PTSD does not always show up right after birth. I was not given the PTSD diagnosis until my infant was 6 months old. Three months after his hospital discharge.
It was not until we felt somewhat safe and off of the front lines of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit did the emotional aftershocks begin.
My PTSD showed up as intense bouts of worry to the point of angry rage and then tears all within 30 minutes. The rest of the day I felt emotionally raw, scared and exhausted. My biggest fear at that point (and likely still) is my child(ren) becoming hospitalized again. The ways in which this baby, who came home during cold & flu season, could be hospitalized were numerous for more reasons than you’d like to know. Preemie babies and any baby with compromised immune systems are fragile and we parents struggle and worry sometimes by the hour to make it another day, another week.
My advice always is to just focus on taking it one day at a time. Through my hardest times my mantra became One Day at a Time.
Just make it to midnight and deal with tomorrow when you get there. Make your best decisions with what information you have at the time. When you look back you’ll know, and can trust, that you did the best you could with what you knew at that time.
