I'm not sure whether the shock had started to wear off and the reality had begun to set in, but day 8 of my baby's life was incredibly difficult. He had lost weight since being transferred from the other hospital, the nurses were rarely letting me hold him, my husband was back at work and thus I was alone visiting our son, and I just felt so broken.
When I sat beside my baby in the hospital I tried not to cry as I didn't want to bring attention to myself. I sat quietly either trying to read a book, or more successfully, write in a journal. Most of the time I just sat watching my baby, until I had to pump again which seemed to be much too frequent.
On this day I must have given away my mood in my face, as I did not shed a tear, as one of the nurses approached me in what I believe was an effort to lift my spirits. She told me that the bright side of the whole thing was that I got to meet my baby early. I thought about this quite a bit, and how I almost went to get the 3D ultrasound of him a couple of weeks before in order to get the early peek...
The thing is, I wouldn't wish this experience on anyone. At least when I was still pregnant with him I had him with me all the time. While he was in the hospital I had to keep leaving him behind- I think an incredibly terrible thing for a mother to have to do. It doesn't feel right to be separated from your child- emotionally or physically.
This was a really hard day as my thoughts kept sinking lower. I remember watching some of the other women on the maternity floor when I was sitting on an empty chair to get a break from the NICU, carting their babies around in cots, preparing to take them home with them in the next day or two. Some might have smoked, others may have drank or done drugs or eaten poorly or not exercised. I had thought I had done everything right, everything that I possibly could have to ensure a healthy pregnancy, yet here I was- visiting my baby in the NICU. It just didn't seem fair.
The tipping point occurred that night when I got home. I found out that my dad had sent pictures of our son in the NICU out to different family and friends by email and I just lost it. It wasn't that I had told him he couldn't, I just hadn't told him he could. I didn't want anyone to see my son with an IV in his head, with wires all over his body, with a tube down his nose... he was still supposed to be safe and protected inside me- this was not supposed to happen. I cried and yelled and cried some more. My husband tried to comfort me through his own tears but there was no consoling on this day.
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