The Tiny Baby in the Incubator

My husband went with the baby, and the multiple professionals, to the NICU. I then lay there with the OB, resident, and nurse and waited for the placenta to be delivered. I felt so much relief that the pushing was finally over and my baby was alive that I just laid back and stared at the ceiling. I half-heartedly gave a couple of more pushes as requested by the OB in order to deliver the placenta. However, after a few minutes the OB literally pushed the resident out of the way and told her that it had to be quick as my cervix was closing. I felt her reach in and a bit of a tug and then she told me it was over. I watched her look at the placenta and say that it was healthy and intact, although on the smaller size. This triggered me as I had never been told that my placenta was on the smaller side during any of the ultrasound check-ups, but I trusted that she had gotten it all out. This would turn out to not be the case... I received one stitch and the placenta was sent to the lab to see if there was an infection or something else that could explain the premature delivery.

I was thankful that they did not end up doing an episiotomy. The OB had told me that they often did with preemies because their heads are so delicate. I found this very interesting after being told the week earlier in my prenatal class that no one did episiotomies anymore. Then again, the prenatal class really didn't prepare me for anything that had or was happening.

My husband returned shortly after to check on me. Apparently the baby was doing very well considering, having scored 9/10 on the apgar test and was breathing on his own. I was told that once I felt up to it, I could go see him in a wheelchair. It did not take long for me to get into the wheelchair with the IV at my side and have my husband wheel me down to the NICU.

There were about a dozen incubators lined up against the walls and my baby was placed in the one in the farthest corner. I pulled up to him and the few nurses surrounding him backed away so I could see him. He looked much smaller in the incubator than he had when he first popped out on my chest and I suddenly became very scared again. He was wearing a tiny diaper and had a number of wires hooked up to him. The alarms kept going off and the nurses kept surrounding him and then backing away while reassuring me that it was all very normal. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes but much of me was in complete shock.

I did get to touch his little hands and gently stroke his skin, although all of this was frightening to me. I didn't want to hurt him and I was so scared he would suddenly just stop breathing. I didn't know anything about preemies, including the survival rate. But I couldn't bring myself to ask if my baby would survive...