In a previous blog post, I shared my birth story with my son Jude. If you haven’t already read it, you can find that post here. In this post, I want to share a little about what our experience was like navigating an unexpected NICU stay and being back in the place that held most of our memories with Eden. It was a very emotional and traumatizing experience.
the transfer to the NICU
In the early hours of the morning on Jude’s second day of life, medical staff rushed into my room to get me out of bed. They helped me into a wheelchair and told me that Jude was being rushed to the NICU for a blood transfusion, and that if I wanted to see him I had to leave right now. I was pushed in the wheelchair behind Jude as he was being transported in an incubator by the same nurse that transported Eden to the NICU after she was born. The parallels between the experiences took my breath away.
At that moment, I felt as though I was separate from my body, watching these things happen. Could this even be real? Was it all a sick joke? Am I going to lose this baby, too? I was hit with a tsunami of memories when I entered the NICU. I saw the sink where I scrubbed in every day before visiting Eden. We passed by room 309, where we held her for the first time. I felt a tug in my heart to go visit her, even though my brain knew very well that she would not be inside.
preparing for the blood transfusion
When we reached Jude’s room, a swarm of medical professionals was there waiting for us. They had sprung into action, prepping Jude for a prompt blood transfusion. I recognized so many faces as ones who cared for Eden. This was simultaneously comforting and absolutely soul-crushing. The nurse practitioner who was explaining what was happening to Baylor and I was the same one who was on Eden’s team when she transitioned to comfort care. Last time I saw these people, my child was actively dying. I could barely understand what was being said to me, because I could not will myself to stop crying.
I tuned out all the voices and stared at my limp and pale newborn being worked on by very skilled hands. Hands I trusted but never wanted to have to depend on again. It felt like all the images I was taking in were leaping out at me and attacking me. The image of a team of providers working on my child. The wires. The monitors. The recliner and cot. All familiar sights that I never, ever wanted to see again in my lifetime. All sights that I did not think I would have to see again after carrying a supposedly healthy baby for just shy of 39 weeks.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t the redemptive experience I asked for. It felt like God was dangling Jude’s life before my eyes like a carrot to a rabbit. It felt like He was telling me “don’t forget that I can take him, too.” I felt completely helpless.
the waiting period
The blood transfusion was a sterile procedure, so we had to leave Jude’s room and wait until we got a phone call from the NICU that it was okay to come back. As I waited, I worried about what the long-term repercussions would be from having a hemoglobin level of 3.4 (normal for a newborn is >14), which was the discovery that led to his prompt transfer to the NICU. As someone who had already lived through the loss of a child, it was hard not to go straight to imagining the worst-case scenario.
I remember sitting on the edge of my hospital bed sobbing. I felt so alone at that time, but I now recognize that God placed people in that room to encourage me when I needed it. My postpartum recovery nurse sat with me. After hearing about what we had been through with Eden, and now with Jude, she started crying too. I felt so comforted by her presence. She did not have any words of encouragement or advice, but she was willing to enter into my pain with me, which was impactful. I don’t remember this nurse’s name, but I’ll always remember the way that she cared.
My mother-in-law also came to visit during our waiting period. I remember her simply sitting next to me and touching my back, reassuring me that this was a different story. The trauma of Jude’s NICU transfer was magnified by the grief of losing Eden, and at the time I needed that audible reminder that despite the parallels in both babies’ births, this story could still have a different ending.
Jude’s recovery
After what seemed like forever, we got a call that Jude’s blood transfusion was complete. He responded very well and was ready for us to come back to see him. His labs were already improving drastically. When we arrived at his room, the baby we saw was not the same baby we had left hours before. This new baby was pink, squirmy, and looking around. We were instantly relieved and reassured. Shortly after we got there, Jude was getting an ultrasound done to check for internal organ damage and was clearly bothered by the disturbance. I loved hearing his little cry and witnessing him being opinionated about something, as newborns should be.
From that point on, we only received encouraging news. Jude made many positive strides as his labs continued to improve. After a couple of days in the NICU, he achieved his hematocrit and hemoglobin goals. He did not need any further blood transfusions, which was such a relief. We were able to start breastfeeding, which I enjoyed much more than pumping. Jude was a natural with nursing from the start and loved to eat (he still does!).
our NICU family
While the NICU was the last place we wanted to be, our time there also had its sweet moments. We got to see most of our favorite nurses that we had with Eden and introduce them to her little brother. There were not many people in our life that actually got to physically experience Eden, so it was like getting to introduce Jude to our extended family. Hearing him referred to as “Eden’s little brother” by staff was really comforting to my grieving heart.
It was clear that the NICU staff had not forgotten Eden. She was continuing to make an impact on their lives. One moment in particular stands out as I reflect on that time. Baylor and I were on our way to Jude’s room to visit him, and we ran into one our favorite of Eden’s nurses, Nathan. When he saw us walking by, he stopped us and said that it felt like seeing a ghost. It was equally strange for us to be walking those same halls that we walked only one year prior. Nathan shared with us that he had just been thinking about Eden the week prior while he was painting. Later on that night, he came by Jude’s room to meet him.
Getting to see firsthand the impact that Eden had made on the staff who cared for her was redemptive and beautiful. It felt like Eden was a proud big sister in Heaven and may have had a hand in orchestrating these meaningful interactions.
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