My time as a NICU mommy; or, as I sometimes like to say "How did I ever make it through that?"

So, last time I promised that I would share with you about my time as a NICU momma. This is that post.

My time with Rana while I was in the hospital recovering from her birth was easy, comparatively speaking. I was able to pad down the hallway to the NICU and see her any time I wanted. I could hold her tiny body, skin to skin, and doze lightly in the big kangaroo-care chair, my feet up and leaned back as far as it would go. I could also forgo the need to worry about eating on a regular basis because food arrived, in my room, at regularly scheduled intervals. I had all the chocolate pudding I could want, and my bed had controls for the lights and the television. It was pretty comfortable, outside of the pain of my incision and the seemingly endless cycle of pumping.

But then it was time to leave the hospital. I didn't want to - I wasn't ready to be separated from my baby by more than a few walls.

It TERRIFIED me.

But we went home anyways. Without my sweet girl. I left her with nurses and doctors to watch over her while I was away. But still, I couldn't resist the pull to be physically present with her as much as allowed.

So I went to the hospital every day, most days from early in the morning until 8pm or so. I was fortunate to have had my mother-in-law staying with us at the time, because I wasn't allowed to drive for a bit. She would drive me up to the hospital and pick me up. Also, she helped keep the house from getting overrun with laundry and kept Creed from starving to death (or from spending every last cent we had on McDonald's "comfort food"). She also did numerous other things, which I cannot hope to recall the specifics of, but I know that she was there, and she did them. I am so very grateful for all her help - we could not have made it through without outside support.

However, even with all that help - it was still very difficult. I was trying to finish my first semester of Graduate work when my preterm labor started. By the time everything had settled, I was way behind. I had what was arguably one of the biggest term research papers I had ever attempted weighing down upon my every waking moment. I was stressed, and tired, and so very sad. I struggled to stay awake while reading my textbooks and research, and I valiantly tried to maintain some kind of facade so that everyone didn't have to see my heartache.

But I'm pretty sure they did anyways.

You see, no matter how hard I tried to keep it together, I just wasn't myself. Tears were never very far away. I told myself that I didn't have anything to cry about, because Rana was going to be fine. She would be home just as soon as she was ready. I also told myself that I shouldn't cry because it wouldn't do anything or anyone good. But none of that mattered to my aching heart. I longed to hold her at night. I wanted to be able to kiss her small hands and cheeks, and to smell her sweet baby smell - whenever I wanted. I was so very sad to be separated from her.

The answer to the question "How did I make it through that?" is the same as it always is - for me, I just put my head down, keep going, and remind myself that everything has an end. If it turns out anything other than what you wanted, you look for the bright side and make plans to adjust. You don't dwell on what might have been or what might still be. You do your best, and forget the rest. That is how I survived our time in the NICU.

For a starting place, read here.

Welcome to this blog - this place that I have created to share my story. Actually, it's more than that. It's the story of my family, and all the people in my life, and how I came to dwell in this land that I call the Preemie Momma Spot. And it's also going to be the place where I share my feelings about parenting as a preemie momma.

My daughter was born seven weeks early at the end of January 2013.

I had been working as a sales associate at a local retail store during my whole pregnancy, which had been blissfully easy. My husband and I endured several years of fertility treatments and finally conceived using IVF, so I jokingly referred to my easy pregnancy as my reward for enduring all the treatments and the many, many painful moments it took to get there. As I said, I had been progressing throughout my pregnancy with little to no problems with the exception of some back pain that I chalked up to the long hours on my feet.

I took breaks often and always put my feet up, kept myself well hydrated, ate well and often, and generally took good care of myself. I had told my boss that I needed to reduce my hours, but due to many factors, it was difficult to actually work less. Go figure. But the back pain persisted, as well as an escalation of what I thought were Braxton Hick's contractions. I would sometimes need to sit to make them go away, but that's what all the literature said would happen, so I didn't worry too much. Also, I had no other symptoms of labor, and the contractions and pain went away completely when I rested. At this point, I was seeing the doctor about every two weeks.

When it came time for my next appointment, I mentioned the back pain and a feeling of pressure, and asked her to "check me." To our mutual surprise, I was about 90% effaced and already dilated 3 centimeters. What followed was a week's worth of effort aimed at stopping my labor. If my daughter had been head down, I probably would have been sent home and told to come back if my water broke or if my contractions settled into a pattern or progression. Instead, she was breech, leaving her vulnerable to a cord prolapse, and also increasing the likelihood that her head could get stuck in the birth canal should my labor progress naturally.

So...I stayed in the hospital, confined to the bed except for showers and bathroom trips (which I had to get assistance with, EVERY TIME, because of the meds and my IV.) It was not a pleasant time. I did however gain a new appreciation for the difference between a good nurse and a mediocre one, and renewed my appreciation for chocolate pudding, as well as developing  what can only be described as an unhealthy hankering for the sleep that comes with good drugs. Ha.

In spite of all the effort of my doctors and nurses, my labor did not stop, and progressed to eight centimeters over a week. The good news was that the steroids had the time they needed to work to develop her lungs, and I didn't have any labor pain to speak of, but had been in labor for nearly a week or more.

The Operating room, just prior to Rana's entrance. Lookin pretty rough there, mama. 

A flurry of activity to get me ready, and before I knew it, I was walking into the operating room and getting the spinal block. After that, it was only a few minutes and my daughter was born via emergency cesarean. She was large for her gestational age, 5 pounds 8 ounces. I saw her for a few seconds before they rushed her to the NICU. 

She was beautiful and I was in love instantly.

Rana's second day in the NICU

That was when I became a preemie momma.

My first time to hold her, nearly 10 hours later that day.

Next time, I'll tell you about how I settled in, nesting in the NICU and when I learned how NOT to cope.