Friday, March 8, 2013
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| Born at 31 weeks - now covered in kisses. |
A dress is just a dress... unless it's not. To many pregnant women maternity clothes are a burden. Something they are stuck with until they can fit back into their regular clothes. To a preemie mom they are a reminder of what she didn't have. A big belly which housed and protected a full term baby.
I was about six months pregnant when I had to buy a dress for a big work function. While shopping I found "the dress" that I had to have for my baby shower. The shower was supposed to be a surprise but there were enough hints going around that I knew it was eventually coming. When I tried on the dress I imagined myself at my shower surrounded by my friends and family with my big belly filling out the loose fitting dress. It was strange to me because I never had this feeling while I was shopping for my wedding dress. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones but tears filled my eyes in the dressing room of that maternity store and when the manager came to see if I was alright or needed anything she laughed and said "I guess you like the dress?"
I took the dress home and hung it in the closet where it waited for the day I could wear it. I never took the tags off because I didn't want to be tempted to wear it for any other occasion. That was in May 2012... the tags are still on the dress. I unexpectedly had my son one month later.
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| This picture was right after I gave birth... they surprised me and allowed me to hold him for a few seconds. I was a mess because they had told me I would not be allowed to see him because he would be rushed to NICU. It was the most special surprise of my life. |
I had a relatively easy pregnancy. I didn't get sick and hadn't gained a lot of weight. My husband and I went on a "babymoon" that was planned before we got pregnant and while we were there my feet swelled but I thought it was the walking and bad food I indulged in. My blood pressure always stayed low until one night when I was reading and started to see spots. I knew immediately something was wrong. My doctors told me to go to triage immediately "just to be checked out." There they diagnosed me with severe pre-eclampsia. I was on strict hospital bed rest for what felt like weeks but was really only four days. They had me hooked up to monitors and IV's and monitored me around the clock. My baby never showed a sign of distress which was a huge relief. Everyone at the hospital told me I'd be there for a few weeks, which I later found out this was a lie to keep me calm... I guess it worked because my blood pressure returned to normal. They were able to administer the two steroid injections for my baby's lungs before telling me I was being induced. During this time I was oblivious to the fact that I was in danger. My amazing husband was my rock and worried for both of us so I could focus on keeping calm and holding out as long as I could. One conversation I clearly remember through the haze of emotions and drugs was picking baby names. We had decided on our girl's name before we were even married but we hadn't decided on a name for a son. We picked Evan which was fitting because we later found out that it meant young fighter and he was both of these things.
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| This is when he was one day old. I was still on bed rest so I hadn't seen him since the delivery room although our family was able to see him. |
Our son came into the world eight weeks and two days premature. Preemie moms do that if you didn't notice. We measure in days when others measure in weeks or months and measure in cc's or ounces when others measure in pounds. Evan was born in June and my shower was scheduled for two weeks later. Immediately I heard the questions. "Do we still have it?" "Would she want to go?" I pulled my mom to the side and told her that I overheard the questions and that I would need a reprieve from the weeks of NICU time I had ahead of me and it would be nice to see friends and family. I had no idea how hard that day would be from leaving my son for the day in NICU to realizing I could not wear my dress.
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| This is when they finally wheeled me in to see him. I was bawling and scared. I had seen pictures but I didn't know exactly what to expect when I first saw the NICU. I don't think anyone can be prepared for that moment. |
On the day of the shower we went to see our son and I kissed him and held him and cried. It broke my heart that I had to leave him for the shower but I couldn't back out. On the way to the shower we pulled over in a residential area so that I could pump. It felt so unnatural pumping before my baby shower... I was supposed to still be pregnant. I also made my husband take me shopping on the way to the shower to buy another outfit. I hated every outfit I had and there was good reason. I had been dreaming of that day in the dress I picked months before. Nothing felt right.
The shower was beautiful. I laughed and cried and thanked everyone for their love and support and warned them of the battles ahead. Sanitizing for months. Locking down over the winter. Not meeting Evan until he was a few months older than they expected. As beautiful as the shower was I could not wait to leave and hold my son again. That night I saw the dress peaking out from the back of my closet. I closed the closet door and tried to forget about the dress.
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| This is our first family picture. It was taken when Evan was four days old and Tim was doing Kangaroo care with him. |
A few months later I decided it was time to pack away my maternity clothes. I remember packing them up wondering if I'd ever wear them again and thinking that I should still be in them. Most of the clothes meant nothing to me. A pair of jeans that I wore once or twice, a dress that never fit quite right, or a skirt that was too short anyway. But then I got to the dress. It was as beautiful as I remembered and still had those damn tags hanging on it. I sat on the floor crying. By this time my son was home with us and my husband came upstairs thinking something had happened to him. I felt stupid telling him that I was crying over a dress but he didn't say anything and just hugged me. There were many of those moments in the months after Evan was born. Times I would cry over seemingly nothing or sob uncontrollably over good things. It broke my heart that the dress never got its day to shine. I had let down my son and I let down that dress... or at least that is how it felt to me at the time.
Shortly after that night I went to a baby shower for a friend. This was a big step for me and was harder than I ever let on. I walked into the shower and the sister of the mother of honor was also pregnant ... wearing MY dress. No it wasn't really my dress but it was the same one. Worn by someone else... at another shower. I wanted to run out of the doors and cry and go home but I stayed strong and tried not to look at the dress the entire time. I felt rude but if she had any idea what was going on in my head she would have understood.
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| Finally, a picture taken to celebrate being nine months old. I cannot believe how big he is getting and when I look back at pictures of where we started it's hard to believe he's the same tiny little boy in those pictures! |
Recently my husband and I discussed having another child... eventually. After Evan was born my husband said no more kids. After seeing me and his child both at risk he couldn't handle it. But after a few months with our son we knew we had to go through the rollercoaster again. Of course the thought of it all is scary. Will the baby be early? Will the baby be healthy? Will I be safe and healthy? Will I finally get my big belly? We cannot answer these questions. But there is one question I know the answer to. Will the tags finally be torn off that dress? YES!
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
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| First time meeting Oliver. |
My first two trimesters of pregnancy were pretty normal with all the average pains and discomforts. I started getting pretty bad swelling in the middle of my second trimester. Around week 24 I even had to get an ultrasound on my left leg because they were concerned I had a blood clot. It was around that time they started drilling the symptoms of pre-e into my head, telling me to call immediately if I started to experience them. My swelling improved a little with pressure stockings and I continued on in my pregnancy. Around week 28 I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes and was warned that this also increased my risk for pre-e. But it wasn't until around week 30 that I went in for a normal check-up and my blood pressure was very high. I was sent straight to the hospital to get a Non-stress test in labor and delivery. It was scary but after laying down for about an hour my blood pressure went down to a safe place. I was sent home and the next day I did my first 24-hour collection test. I ended up in labor and delivery the next day with really high blood pressure again. This time my NST took about 6 hours while they tried different things to get the readings they wanted from my son. Eventually they gave me IV fluids (it took them 4 tries to get the IV placed!) and was released again afterwards. From there on out I was on bed rest. I had no idea what to do with myself, I went from working over 40 hours a week managing a salon which I walked to and from every day, to not even being able to walk down to my mailbox.
The next few weeks were full of marathon napping and intense boredom and loneliness. My favorite days were the 2 days each week I would go in for NST's. They told me to have my bags packed for the hospital because any appointment may end in me being sent to deliver. They did a growth ultrasound at 34 weeks and I was told my son was already 5 lbs and would likely be around 8 or 9 if I went to 40 weeks. I was put on labetalol to try and lower my blood pressure, though it just continued to rise even as we increased my dosage. I'm really glad I was able to hold out as long as I did and that my son was already so big (from the GD I guess?). I made it to week 35 before another 24 hour collection test came back showing a high level of protein in my urine. The same day the results came back my left leg had suddenly swollen a massive amount. My OB had me go in to see her and scheduled another ultrasound for my leg. When I got to my OB's office she checked me out and tested my reflexes. My reflexes were scary jumpy, she told me she was cancelling the ultrasound on my leg and would have someone do it later on in the hospital. I was sent straight to labor and delivery to get on a magnesium drip to prevent a seizure. When we got there we had to check in, I remember the lady at the desk asked me my name and when I opened my mouth to tell her I just started crying. My husband had to check me in.
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| First snuggles at 4 days old. |
So we got settled into the hospital room. Again it took the nurses a few tries to place my IV. This was the beginning of becoming a human pin cushion for the next three days. Blood draws every 3 hours, and testing my blood sugar every hour until I had delivered. They started my induction around 6pm with prostaglandin gel, later on adding pitocin to my IV. My OB was on call at her other hospital so the on-call from her practice was in charge of me for most of my labor. I had never met her before but I am so grateful for her. I really didn't want my induction to end in a c-section and I really felt like she was on my team. I labored for 12 hours before my cervix did anything. She told me before she checked it that as long as it had done something she would let me keep laboring. I was only a fingertip dilated, which she said was less than a cm, but it was a change so she would let me keep going. I had another six hours to get to 3-4cm to have my waters broken or it was off to c-section land. Well about 5 hours later my water broke on it's own (my tiny victory!). This was also when labor really started to get unpleasant. There was lots of throwing up, my IV site was throbbing, the pitocin induced contractions sans the bag of waters were more painful than I could handle. The nurse let me get into a hot bath (with the IV, monitors, blood pressure cuff and all) but it did not help as much as I had hoped it would. So I finally agreed to an epidural. I had really wanted to "go natural". But really there is nothing natural about being induced, pumped full of magnesium and pitocin, and being strapped into bed with monitors around your stomach and a blood pressure cuff squeezing the life out of your arm every 10 minutes...so...I decided the "natural" ship had sailed anyway. After the epidural I got to relax for less than an hour before the pressure on my pelvic floor was so intense I asked the nurse to check me. 10 cm and baby at station +1! They called my OB, who got someone to cover her on-call shift at the other hospital, so she could come deliver my son. She got there an hour later and we started pushing. It took awhile, and I definitely almost fainted, but finally I pushed out my 5lb 5oz little shmooshie.
I was scared, of course, when my OB told me I had to be induced. I was nervous when she explained the odds and statistics of what most babies born at 35 weeks are like. For some reason I was really optimistic, I had not really prepared myself mentally that he might not be ok.
I remember my OB placing him on my stomach with his back to me, I reached down to touch him but immediately someone from the NICU picked him up and said "I'm taking him." There was a lot of hustle and bustle around the little baby station at the other side of the room. My husband and mother watched the nurses work and I couldn't hear my baby. I was so scared, I kept asking them what was happening but no one responded to me. Finally I started hearing baby noises. At the time I thought they were good noises but later it was explained to me they were just labored grunts from my son trying to breathe. While I laid in the bed having a tear sewn up they bundled up my son, bagged him, and wheeled him out of the room. It was like I had been in a car wreck, it happened so quick and I really wasn't expecting it and then he was gone.
I got to meet my son about an hour later (I think?) down in the nicu. He was born in respiratory distress and had some fluid retention in his lungs. The first few days were scary and confusing, the cpap was a bit of a roller coaster. People kept assuring me he was fine but then alarms kept going off and they would increase his oxygen. It took a few days but he finally got over the desats. When they switched him to the high flow nasal cannula at 4 days old I finally got to hold him. His IV came out after 6 days and he spent the rest of his nicu stay learning how to eat, a few tries at the breast but mostly the bottle. He was in the nicu for a total of 13 days.
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| Oliver's Graduation Day, unplugged and ready to peace out! |
Monday, February 11, 2013
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| Born at 25 weeks - Virginia |
Its been a year since our parenting journey started on this wild ride. The crisp mornings and early sunsets that make September different from August in the Northeast are such instinctual reminders of this time last year. It was in that month before her birth that I realized how precious life is, how important faith is, what a truly amazing husband I have, and what an incredible support system of friends and family we have.
Until 20 weeks I had a perfectly normal pregnancy. I had been working out 5-6 days a week, eating (mostly) healthy, and had perfect checkups and ultrasounds. Around 20 weeks I started to notice my tummy occasionally getting hard while I was working out or sitting for a long period of time. Initially I thought it was the baby rolling, but then realized that it was likely braxton hicks contractions. Dr. Google told me that it was normal to have them that early but it still made me nervous. I had previously had a uterine surgery (septoplasty) that I knew put me a slightly higher risk for pre-term labor and cervical issues. Because of my history I had made a plan with my OB at the first appointment to have monthly ultrasounds to monitor for any cervical changes. Once I started noticing sporadic braxton hicks contractions I called my OB and asked that we move up my scheduled ultrasound from 23 weeks to 21 weeks. He agreed and also eased my concerns stating that serious complications would be rare even with my history, but it was worth being cautious.
I was convinced that everything was fine, but was glad that I would have piece of mind after the ultrasound. Unfortunately I knew something was definitely wrong as soon as I saw the ultrasound image on the screen mounted to the wall in front of me... the baby's tiny feet were slipped down into what looked like a funnel. This is definitely not what my weekly "your baby is this big" email from babycenter.com looked like. In an instant my heart sank, my hands shook, and my mind went blank. My cervix was funneling and measuring 2.2 cm. A full 1 cm shorter than the measurement at my ultrasound 3 weeks prior. Again, my doctor put me at ease. He explained that while my cervix was effacing much earlier than normal it did not mean that I couldn't continue to have a healthy pregnancy, albeit one spent on bedrest. I felt better, composed myself and left the office determined to do everything I could do to keep the baby cooking. We canceled all of our plans for traveling to our niece's baptism and babymoon in Montauk and set up a new routine at home. I was ready to spend the next 4ish months alternating between my bed and the couch. My first week of bedrest went really well. I hardly had any braxton hicks contractions, I was able to get quite a bit of work done from home, my spirits were high, and we already had so much support. It was a week later and a week closer to a healthy baby.
Again, I walked into my OB's office pretty confident that things would be ok. I thought for sure that the measurements would either be the same or maybe even better. Afterall I had gone from being very active (including long runs and workouts) to laying around and doing nothing for a week. This time I had no idea what I was looking at when the image came up on the screen. I didn't need to though, the look on the ultrasound technician's face was an unmistakable look of sympathy. There was basically nothing left to measure and they sent me right over to the hospital for observation, testing and a possible cerclage the next morning.
The two days that followed were the hardest of our lives. We had consultations with many doctors. We were hopeful that a cerclage to stitch my cervix shut could be done, but didn't meet a single doctor willing to recommend the procedure because of the risk of sending me into immediate labor. Even the doctors that suggested that our baby had very little chance of making it to viability were unwilling to perform a cerclage. It was unbelievably confusing, scary and heartbreaking. Over those 2 days, My Husband and I talked about things that no expectant parents should have to discuss. Would we name the baby? Would we baptize the baby? Would we want to be alone? It was a relief to discuss and decide on the unimaginable and move on so we wouldn't have to make these decisions at even more emotional and stressful moments. From then on we only accepted hope and despite all the grim statistics we decided to believe that we would be okay.
We counted days, days that felt like years. Somehow days turned into a week and then another week and suddenly we had reached viability. I received steroids to help the baby's lungs mature and was moved from the general gynecology floor to the antepartum maternity floor where they were better equipped to monitor my condition. We went from desperation veiled as hope to so much hope. My first ultrasound in 2 weeks revealed that everything was the same. I was still fully effaced but was not dilated. It seemed like I had stabilized! My doctors were equally surprised and confident that it meant that I could remain pregnant for much longer than anyone expected. I was even given a discharge date of December 10th (32 weeks).
Again we were confident. No contractions, the baby was growing well, I felt good, I had a steady stream of visitors, and we were prepared to spend the next 8 weeks in the hospital. Just a few days later, late in the night on a Tuesday things deteriorated, I felt different and knew something was wrong. I will never forget the fear as I waited for the chief resident to come to my room. I shook like a leaf; fear and disbelief once again took over. The resident determined that I was 3cm dilated and my membranes were in the birth canal. In a matter of minutes they were inserting IVs into my arm and wheeling me to the labor and delivery floor. I called my Husband, who didnt hear any of the phone calls. We have no family and the area, so I ultimately had to call the police to go knock on our door to awake my husband. It must have been the scariest night of his life too, he walked into the hospital not knowing if I had already delivered. During the wee hours of the night, while in the haze and overwhelming heat of magnesium, there were ultrasounds showing that the baby was in the least favorable position of feet down, we met with anesthesiologists, met with my on call OB, met with the on call MFM and most sobering of all we met with the neonatoligist. We were once again given the statistics; survival statistics and disability statistics for a baby born at 24.5 weeks. She also attempted to prepare us for what we would see and how they would attempt to help our baby. Hours turned into shifts and then days and somehow things stabilized again. I desperately wanted to get back to my room on the antepartum floor and desperately wanted to be able eat again (I was NPO for several days while on magnesium). I felt like a ticking time bomb on the labor and delivery floor (I was) and wanted to go back to "my" room where I hoped to turn days into weeks again.
After 3.5 days in a labor and delivery room on strict bedrest (otherwise known as the the 7th level of bedrest hell where catheters, bedpans and sponge baths are very much a reality) my doctor agreed to let me go back to "my" room on strict bedrest. I told him I was ready to last another few weeks and for the first time he didn't share the same optimism. He gave it to us real. It was Friday afternoon. He was on call all weekend and said he wouldn't be going home all weekend. He didn't think I would still be pregnant when he signed off to the next OB on Sunday night and wanted to be sure he was "in house" for what would likely be an emergency situation. He anticipated that my water would break and had us prepared for a crash c-section and a very frantic but well rehearsed series of events.
By dinnertime on Friday the 21st I was back in "my" room and more importantly back in "my" bed which was far more comfortable than the beds on labor and delivery which were very clearly made for birthing babies and not for sleeping. In hindsight I was very much preparing for Virginia's immanent birth while putting on a face of strength and hope. We narrowed down names to 2 boys names and 2 girls names, something that we hadn't discussed since the series of unfathomable conversations that Heath and I had during those first 2 days in the hospital. By the next morning I knew I was going to give birth that day. I tried to convince myself otherwise, but even my favorite Resident's prediction that I would prove my OB wrong and make it to Thanksgiving was not enough to distract me from what I already knew. I called my nurse a few times and she said they weren't picking up any contractions on the monitor belts that had been strapped to my belly for the last few weeks. I called her again and asked her to page my doctor. I was right. I was 7cm dilated, as scary thought since she was still breech and a baby so small can be delivered before being the full 10cm dilated. I thankfully skipped my breakfast knowing that I would need a c-section and was soon back down in the same Labor and Delivery room.
If you have to give birth to a baby 15 weeks early, you want it to be under the most controlled and ideal circumstances. Somehow I had avoided infection and somehow my water had not broken. We were down in Labor and Delivery under fairly calm conditions. There was definite tension in the air as micropreemie births are not an every day occurrence even in the best of hospitals. The calm erupted into controlled chaos when they thought the baby was going into distress. Suddenly seconds felt like hours until I was in the OR and they confirmed that the baby was fine. Things calmed down and instead of being put under general anesthesia I held my OB's hand as they tried and tried and tried and finally succeeded at giving me a spinal. It was all so surreal- it still is. My most distinct memory of that day is laying flat on the cold operating table and looking down at my bare belly before they put up the blue screen. I could see the tips of my toes, the little pregnant belly I had in the days prior was mostly gone because the baby was so far down in my pelvis. It was so unsettling, so surreal. Heath joined me in the OR as they started the operation. He sat on the left side of my head and held my hand. Within minutes the baby was out. 11:11am. Absent was a cry that we wouldn't hear for another 8 weeks. 10 or 15 minutes later they announced it was a girl and let us know that she was successfully intubated.
The rest was hazy and none of it mattered. It was a new fight, a fight that I unfortunately could no longer fight for Virginia. We could only hope, pray and BELIEVE that she would fight. This is the end of this story and the beginning of the most amazing story I have ever known.
You can read Alyssa's full account of her birth story on her blog.
Monday, January 7, 2013
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| Click here for MORE NICU bedside Printables! |
Seriously, how cute are these? Cheer up your spot, thanks to the Canadian NICU Support Foundation!
Monday, November 5, 2012
I am
a NICU mom, a twin mom, and an AMA mom.
(that last one is Advanced Maternal age). I was 39 when I was blessed with my twin
pregnancy. I am also an adoptive mom to
my 14 year old son. I did have
complications. Gestational diabetes, a
SCH (Sub chorionic hematoma), bleeding, cramping, and throwing up for the first
27 weeks. :/
My
sweet girls were born preemie at 32 weeks on the dot. I am a former NICU nurse, and I never, ever
thought I would be a NICU mama.
I
felt cramps, and ignored them. I would
later find out, it was PTL, Preterm Labor.
I am
angry at myself for my girls’ early delivery.
I should clarify and say, I hated my body on that day. It failed my girls and it failed me. I didn’t want to have babies in the NICU…I
was trained to take care of preemies …not at all prepared to be a mom on the
other side of the fence.
Lauren
was born vaginally and Kate was born via c-section on July 20, 2010. I recovered on a GYN floor. Found out later, I was on that floor instead
of regular Mother/Baby unit so I would not hear babies crying. It was too quiet and I didn’t like it at
all. I even asked why I was not on the regular mother/baby unit, and
a nurse said, “we do that so you won’t get sad hearing the babies cry.” I wanted to hear babies cry. I was a Mom just like those “term” moms. My babies were in the NICU, but I still was a
mom. Being on that floor away from all
the other moms and babies was awful. It was hard enough being in a completely
separate building from them. And to be
on a floor with a ton of old geezers in for GYN stuff was depressing.
My
girls were in the hospital for 2 months.
And it was NICU hell.
I
think knowing all that I did about preemies was good and not so good. I knew too much. And it was hard for me to be Mom, because I
was used to being the nurse in the room.
I’m
going to be honest: I was not a fan of
pumping breast milk. I did it for my girls. I knew their bowels were premature, and BM
would be the best nutrition for them. I
only pumped for a total of 3 months. I
had to stop, as it was making me a stress case.
I never got much milk and I tried just about every piece of advice I was
given to produce more milk. My body was
failing me again, and failing my girls.
Lauren,
my baby A was a chunk. She was close to
5 pounds. Kate, my baby B, had IUGR
(intrauterine growth retardation) and she was 3 pounds. Everyone always thinks the chunky babies are
healthy, but Lauren was very, very sick.
She was in PPHN (persistent pulmonary hypertension) caused from her PDA
and ASD. I was forbidden to touch her or
talk to her for 10 days. It was the
hardest 10 days of my life. She never
opened her eyes until the evening of day 10.
She was moments away from being placed on ECMO and they kept telling me
they were doing all they could. She was
a 2:1. (Two to one). That means, 2 nurses to 1 baby. She had so many things hooked to her sweet
little body, she needed the care of 2 nurses and 1 respiratory therapist.
She
was on the Oscillator (high frequency ventilator) for a long time. Lauren also came home on oxygen, a pulse ox
(pulse oximeter), and a cardiac monitor.
She needed oxygen for 3 months.
Thank God above I pushed to get her home, because I would not have
survived an additional 3 months in the hospital. I just wanted my girls at home.
In
the 2 months the girls were in the NICU, I only spent 7 hours at home away from
them. My husband insisted I sleep at
home, in our bed, so I would “feel better”.
It was awful being away from them, and I just worried
and could not sleep. From that moment
on, I stayed in the hospital with the girls.
I rarely saw the sun. And I did
try and take walks around the hospital and thru the courtyards to get fresh
air…but honestly, I just didn’t want to be outside when my girls were sick in
the hospital. I didn’t care at that time
if it was sunny and flowers blooming…
I
wished I had made a journal entry about the girls shortly after they were
born. I think I was on too much overload
to think about a journal. I know I would
have included more details of our NICU time.
I did learn a few things about NICU, that as a nurse, I had never
experienced before. I experienced
emotions as a NICU mom, and everyone in our family seemed to not fully
understand what I was going thru. That
is how I found this Preemie group on the Bump, and later, I joined them on
Facebook.
I
would read peoples “siggys” on the Bump to have HOPE. When I would see other
Preemie moms had survived the NICU, and they had a preemie pic next to a
current pic of their baby at age 1, I had HOPE.
It got me thru some of the hardest days in the NICU. Having a support group of other NICU/Preemie
Moms is a very healing place to go and share about all things Preemie. I can say and share things that most full
term moms will never understand. I am so
grateful for the women in the FB group.
Here
is my gripe list ;)
1. My babies are preemie. They are in the NICU. They need peace and quiet. They should still be on the inside. Please don’t ask a NICU mom if you can come
and visit. Support her thru meals, gift
cards to places that offer a carry out menu, and send her text messages. Even a card.
But give her space and time.
2. I hate hospitals. (and I am a nurse)
3. My 1 year olds are not doing
the same thing your 1 year old is doing.
Don’t point it out. I know my
little ones are delayed.
4. If you are carrying a baby, be
grateful for every ache and pain you have.
My friends and I would give anything to have those aches and pains. We would go thru anything to keep our babies
cooking and not be in the NICU.
5. Wash your hands. Our preemies are more vulnerable to colds,
flu’s, and any type of illness. If you
even think your throat is scratchy, STAY HOME.
And a week after you thought your throat was scratchy…I’m still going to
ask you to put on a mask.
If
you are on bed rest, I wish you as much cooking time as is possible. Remember, being on bed rest is truly a full
time job. You are growing a little
human, and that is an amazing job. Every day your LO (little one) can stay on
the inside~ is less NICU time. So do not
get discouraged. Online shop, shop,
shop. J
If
you are a preemie/Nicu mom, I wish you an uneventful stay in the NICU. And I hope you and your sweet baby are home
very, very soon. ::Hugs for you::
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