Pipsqueak: Mothering a preemie

If there are any lessons I've learned from birthing a premature baby, it's pack my bag as soon as the pregnancy test reads positive, and check myself into the hospital when I get a sore throat because with my history, it probably means I've gone into labor.

In labor. 

But seriously, In the words of Nora Jones, "You humble me Lord." Why did he humble me?  I'll tell you. I had the best experience with labor and delivery with my first son. While in the hospital he barely left my arms. I nursed him, changed him and loved on him every second. It was an instant bond. Deep in my mind I always thought, "Sucks for those women who don't get this same experience, I guess I am just a strong woman who has strong healthy babies, the NICU is for weak mamas who have weak babies." COL. Pride comes before the fall.

When Benjamin was born and taken to the NICU, I felt very weird. Now what the heck are you supposed to do? I had this uneasy pit in my stomach. When I wasn't pumping, was I allowed to just go to the NICU and hang? And then what was I supposed to do when I was in there? Talk to him while he was slept in his "cage"? And about what? It's way more natural to do that when he's in your arms, but another when there is a glass separating you and your sweet tiny monster.

"Uhhh, is this right?"

And don't worry, I got my nappy hair cut the day after I left the hospital thanks to looking at this picture.

Fortunately we had lots of good folk come visit and  it helped pass the time. I did feel guilty for not being in with him when I was hanging with friends, but like I said, what was I to do in there? I hated that I couldn't hold him anytime I wanted, and that I was not the one feeding him and changing him. I felt worthless to my child, he had no need for a mother when he had nurses taking care of him. It was weird that he was my baby, yet I felt like I needed to ask permission before I did anything for him. Example: On his third night on planet earth, I went to see him and hold him skin to skin. At this point they were feeding him my breastmilk through a tube that went down his nose. Instinctively he started slamming his head against my chest in search for a boob. He found it and went to town sucking away. Nobody ever gave me permission to breastfeed him. I was so scared the nurse was going to come behind the curtain and we could get caught, and then we'd both get in trouble. I fessed up to the nurse. We didn't get in trouble after all. They removed the tube and he's been a boob man ever since.

My sweet friend Casey who came bearing gifts of what I needed most, coffee, turquoise earrings and lip gloss.

The first time I went to see him in the NICU I felt a bit low class. Having stated in a previous post, I showed up at the hospital with only boots and no socks on. Before I walked to see him, I changed out of my gown into comfy pants, the last thing I wanted to do was put those stupid boots back on to walk down the hall. So, I tried to go in barefoot with my pants covering up my feet so they wouldn't show. At soon as I stepped in, in a matter of seconds, I was caught, semi made to feel like trailer park and given surgical slippers. I promised the nurses I had shoes on the way and I wouldn't do that again. When I went back later that night, with rainbows on, I got to hold him skin to skin for the first time, he was so stinkin sweet and small weighing in at a mere 4lbs. 8oz and 18inches long.

I pretty much had it together while I was in the hospital because I was distracted. My last day there, I went in to say good-bye to Benj and tell him that I'd come back to see him tomorrow. I felt ok until a nurse said to me, "Don't worry dear, this day is the hardest." Oh shoot, I'd been too busy to think ahead. My heart started to race because it hit me, I was going home, without my baby. I wanted to get out of there before I started crying. I speed walked out to the parking lot, as fast as you can walk 2 days after having a baby. Julius had pulled the car around for me and when I saw him, I had my first breakdown.

I proceeded to visit Benjamin twice a day. I had many great people come to the rescue and watch Jet so I could go see him. It got way more comfortable fast. When visiting him, I would change him, take his temperature, nurse him and snuggle him skin to skin and sing to him. With all the songs constantly in my head, I only had 2 that ever came to me while rocking him. "Jesus paid it all, all to him I owe, sin had left a crimson stain, he washed it white as snow." And one my mom always would sing to us. It's John 3:16 with her own music, and you fill in a name. "For God so loved Benjamin, that he gave his Son, that if Benjamin would believe in him, he would not perish but have everlasting life."

I felt torn because when I was at home I felt like I needed to be with my baby. When I was at the hospital I felt like I needed to be with my husband and toddler. At home, I was hooked up to the pump constantly. The hospital had asked me not to bring anymore of my milk up there because they had enough, and my freezer at home was overflowing. Yes, the overflowing freezer that everytime you opened it, a milk rock hit your foot. The overflowing freezer that when you saw your spouse go to open it, you would cover your ears because you knew something would be spewing from his mouth. The overflowing freezer that you sent your guests to get something out of just to make it awkward for them as they try to fit everything back in there that fell out. Anywho, I started dumping my milk because I had nowhere else to put it. Until I thought, "Why spend lots of money on organic milk for Jet when he can have something much better, and free?"  And so it was routine, as soon as Jet saw me sit down in the chair in my bedroom, he would literally sprint to the drawer in the kitchen to where his sippy cups were, grap one and run straight back to the bedroom. He would wait patiently while I pumped and as soon as I was done, he would grap the pump bottles, unscrew them with my help, and pour them into his cup so intensely. It was hilarious everytime. Call me the Dairy Queen. Jet would walk around holding the pump parts to his chest saying "Boobies boobies." One time I caught him doing it with kitchen funnels.

So, ten days after Benj was born they told me he was doing great and would be going home in just a couple of days. We were shocked. I had pictured us bringing home a bigger and chunkier baby. So that Saturday morning, when he would have only been 34 weeks and 5 days in the womb,  he got to come home with us. We had a nurse come out and check on him every few days for a couple of weeks to make sure he was growing and maintaing his temperature.  I wasn't supposed to take him out because it was RSV and flu season, but poor Benj came home to a house full of three sick people. Within days he caught a cold too but got over it pretty quickly. Nothing brought me greater joy than getting to suction his nose with the bulb syringe.

Holding his hermano for the first time. Don't worry, Jet has had a haircut as well.

In just over 2 weeks of being home, Benj was 7lbs and not so preemie size anymore. I still wasn't supposed to take him out too much, but that was fine with me because it gave me an excuse to not shower or put on make-up and stay in sweats all day. Unfortunately I can't seem to break that habit now and it's been months, except I do go out in public. Poor husband.

The king at 13 weeks. He obviously doesn't miss a meal.

So there ya have it. "This is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long...!

I love him so much!