The NICU

*Again, another long post with a potential overload of TMI.  Readers be warned!

When Daphne was born they were afraid that I had an infection which may have transferred to her from laboring for so long.  Thus, there was a NICU staff team that whisked her past me after the c-section to a table in the room I couldn't see.  Burke, however, followed and he said it was pretty scary when they put her down and she lay there cold and limp.  Her heart rate was low and she didn't move or make a sound.  They put oxygen on her and Burke said it was such a relief when she suddenly "kick started" with a jerk and started breathing.

As a precaution they took Daphne to the NICU to give her antibiotics just in case if she did get an infection.  However, as soon as I came out of surgery, they took my temperature (which had decreased significantly) and concluded I had not had an infection, which of course means Daphne didn't either.  Something I didn't know before this experience, however, is that once a baby is in the NICU, it is a ridiculous process trying to get them OUT of the NICU.

That first night when I was finally able to go down and see her I was so sad about all the chords and tubes in her body, the multiple beeping of monitors and her healthy, chubby body in a plastic container usually holding babies half her size.  Never having stayed in a hospital myself and having just undergone a major ordeal, I didn't question for a moment that she needed to be there.  The doctors said she would have to be there for 48 hours and it was the hardest thing to put her back in her sterile environment and be wheeled from her room to go to sleep.

What started out as 48 hours turned into 5 and a half days of unnecessary time in the NICU.  Every day there was something minuscule that turned into another reason the doctors wanted to keep her: continued antibiotics (for an infection I never had), low sugar levels, and further monitoring.  On about the third day I began to question, "Now, why is she here again?"  At that point they had run out of internal excuses and said Daphne couldn't go home until she was sufficient at breast feeding.  Since that Sunday I had been hobbling down to the NICU every three hours for her scheduled feeding.  I had a lactation specialist helping me and I was pumping in between feedings, but my milk hadn't come in yet.  Besides, they had a feeding tube in her nose and were pumping her full of formula every three hours, so whenever I tried to feed her she would just fall asleep because she wasn't hungry!  I started to get really frustrated.  Any other baby that is born normally and  both Mom and baby prove to be healthy can be sent home the next day.  But since my baby had been admitted into the NICU (without ever having anything proven to be wrong with her), they wouldn't let me take her home until she could feed.

The nurses made that sweet sign for Daphne's door and I loved the daily goals they would make for her on the white board.  The first day we came in it said, "Hold mommy and daddy."  Definitely an achievable goal. :)

One thing I didn't know until this experience is that sometimes it can take up to a whole week for your milk to come in!  I was so sad every time I went down to Daphne's room and I couldn't get her to feed.  It wasn't until Wednesday afternoon when Burke had returned to work that I suddenly started producing.  I called him and started crying with the news.  I never knew I would be so happy about becoming a milk cow! :)  However, Daph and I still had a lot to learn and it took a few more feedings for us to figure out how to work together.  Whoever imagined breast feeding could be so hard and so painful.  Ouch!

A succession of extremely unflattering pictures of my reaction to breast feeding for the first time.  Burke thought he would be oh-so-funny and document my reaction.  That last picture says it all.  What the?!  TMI?  Probably. :)

On Thursday I finally got approval from the doctors to try "Ad Lib" feeding, which is where they would no longer feed her through the nose tube, but allow her to feed off of me only as if she were really home.  However, on Thursday, I was also discharged from recovery and now we were looking at a night of driving back and forth from the hospital to feed her every three hours (at the latest) and possibly sooner if she woke up and the nurses would call me to come feed her.  Thankfully, my mother arrived in St. George to help with the recovery that evening and agreed to be my chauffeur through the night as Burke had work early the next morning.  We drove over at 8:00, 10:30, 2:00, 5:00 and 8:00.  It was a looooong night, but Daphne was eating like a champ and I was ecstatic thinking that she had finally proven once and for all that she could come home.

At 9:00 every morning they have "rounds" at the NICU where a team of doctors, specialists and interns (numbering no less than 10 people) go around to each room and assess the baby's progress and their plan to help them get better.  That Friday morning I stood sleep deprived and emotional, holding my baby as I had every day that week, surrounded by this team that would prescribe for me what would happen to my child.  It is an intimidating feeling, especially where I felt that I had no power to disagree with them and tell them to (as Burke would say in a Moses-like voice with arms stretched wide) "Let my baby go!"  My mother came into the room right as they were saying that IF Daphne's diapers weighed a certain amount (which showed how much she was actually in-taking from her feeding) she MAY be allowed to POSSIBLY go home that afternoon or the next day.  At this point, my mom had seen enough and confronted the doctors on how unethical it was to keep a perfectly healthy baby in the NICU at the exorbitant cost that it was to have her there every day.  I was mortified as she challenged them and made them defend all of their decisions from the past week.   Mortified, but also grateful that my mother is assertive enough to take on the world for me and my baby.  Although the doctors would not let her go that morning, they didn't put up much of an argument that afternoon and it was joyous relief to take her out of that place and drive her back to our home where she belonged.  Hooray!

I feel bad thinking back on this experience as I have such a sour taste in my mouth for the hospital now.  I know the NICU is a wonderful place for babies that are premature or sick and truly do need the help of these talented doctors, but my baby did not need to be there.  It is sad because we had wonderful nurses and doctors and everyone was very helpful and kind as individuals. However there is no doubt that the institution has become somewhat skewed when they will keep a completely healthy baby basically captive when the parents have no right to take their baby home without their medical bills being rejected by the insurance companies for leaving without a doctor's approval.  I felt so trapped and ignorant as a first time mom, not sure what my patient rights were or who to talk to about getting her out of there.  It was a rough experience, but we are so glad that Daphne is healthy and finally home with her mama and papa.

One last experience with the NICU I wanted to share.  On Tuesday night, Daphne's little hands and feet were still a grayish color and the nurses admitted that for most babies their coloring was usually normal after a day or so.  When our nurse left the room and we looked at our sweet angel covered in cords Burke decided to give her a blessing.  He put his hand on her tiny head and blessed her that any problems she had would be resolved and that she would be able to come home with us soon.  Three hours later when we returned for the next feeding session our nurse had a big grin on her face as we came in the room and said, "Great news! I got permission to take her oxygen tubes off since she has been breathing normally all day.  And look!"  She pointed to Daphne's hands and feet which were now a healthy pink.  Burke just looked at me and smiled and I felt yet another affirmation of our Heavenly Father's love and awareness of us.