Preemie Parent

I saw on a friend's blog (who had preemie twins as well) an article about post traumatic stress in parents of children who are in the NICU. I started reading it, but had to stop. So many times, when I look back at photos of Nick, or view photos of other kids in the NICU, or read stories about experiences in the NICU, I get very emotional. Sometimes, I can't even do it. It is just too hard. I cry just seeing a photo of a child I have never met. It is such a hard thing to explain, and for others to understand.


While I am not sure that I would classify my emotions as post traumatic stress syndrome, I don't know that I can fully classify my emotions. I know I felt an overwhelming sense of dread when I was discharged from the hospital. Not being right down the hall from Nick was extremely hard. I know that I called the NICU first thing every morning, and last thing every night to check. I often called during the day, especially if he was having difficulties, or procedures. I often called in the middle of the night when I got up to pump. I remember being so incredibly careful with my cell phone, as I felt that was my only life line to my son. I would sometimes check my phone numerous times in an hour to be sure they didn't call. I went to the hospital every day, all 111 of them.


I remember jumping, and my heart leaping out of my chest when my phone rang, and I saw the hospital number on the phone. I remember reading every thing I could get my hands on about preemie babies, what to expect, what could happen, and looking for the ominous signs in my own son. I remember his bad days where his heart rate would drop in the 40's and my heart would drop then race, watching the monitor every second to see him recover. The hardest days were his bad days. The days when he would have multiple apnea spells a day.


It was the most incredibly hard time in my life, and I never want to relive it. I sympathize with every parent who has been through that, is going through it, or will go through it. I wish that I could say something to make it better, but I can't.


The only thing I know for sure, is Nick is okay. He is home, where I can be with him hours a day, instead of minutes. He is home where I can hug him, love him, kiss him, and care for him every minute of the day if I choose.


There are after effects of the NICU. I know that any type of sniffle sends me almost into a panic. I know that certain things can be so much more dangerous for Nick, but despite all that, he is here. I admit, I still go check on him every night, put my hand on his back to feel his breathing, and maybe I will do that for a while. Everyday, I get a little more confident that everything will be okay.




While I sometimes grieve the loss of things "normal' with bringing home a baby, I know that for both Nick and myself, this whole experience has meaning. I have faith in God that there was a reason, it can only make us stronger. At the very least, he will have a great story to tell when he gets older. How many kids can say I only weighed 1 pound 8 ounces. That among many other things makes Nick incredibly special!