From Little Things... Big Things Grow

From Little Things... Big Things Grow

Monday, January 18, 2010

Going home without my baby


Now to get up to speed... I will likely miss a lot but I hope I can remember most things since I am doing this for myself so in years to come, I can remember how far we have come



Seeing Nico for the first time since delivery was a mix of emotions. I actually felt that I was going to pass out. I am not sure whether it was from being overcome by Nico's tiny little body covered in foil, the NICU environment (my dad describes it as walking into a space ship) or simply from getting up and having a shower less than an hour after delivery, cold corridor and then into the hot NICU bay.

He was in an open crib with a foil blanket (see previous post picture). A tube down his throat for ventilation, a line in his belly button for blood pressure I think, two IV lines, a sat probe around his foot, 3 pads on his chest for heart and breathing monitoring and possibly a tube down his nose for feeds but that may have been the next day or 2. His skin was transluscent and had no fat underneath making him quite a frightening dark red colour. I immediately became grateful for the time I had to ask all my questions before birth so it was not such a huge shock. I clearly remembered feeling so wrong asking "What will he look like? Like what do we need to be prepared for?" before he was born, as if I was worried he would be deformed or something.

I was discharged 36 hours after Nico's birth. I was glad to go in some ways. After nearly a month, my own bed and real food was my idea of heaven. I hated leaving without my litle man though. It just happened that we went down the lift with a couple taking their baby home... and a pregnant women coming in the door as we left. I felt a bit jealous but I thought it would be worse. I had 2 friends due to give birth within the same week as me so it was nice to know I wouldn't crumble at the sight.

And so began the transition to our new home/hospital life. The first few weeks I had the same emotions every visit.
  • Anger as I arrived. Parents should not have to "visit" their newborn!
  • Fear as I walked through the hospital. What if they tell me he is in a bad way
  • Anxiety as I got to the door of his bay. Would I see 10 doctors swarming around him
  • Intense happiness seeing my little man just fine, sleeping soundly in his isolette
The first week was fabulous. He did so well. He dropped the standard 10% of weight (down to 640g!!) and although not breathing himself, was not needing much extra oxygen. The world revolves around oxygen requirements in this land and the lower the better. He had a Grade 2 bleed on the brain, this was fine and would likely resolve itself. He also had a duct to his heart that hadn't closed, again, this would probably resolve itself in time.

Things you learn quickly about oxygen in NICU
  • Oxygen saturation (SpO2) should be between 86-94% for bubs under 36 weeks
  • SpO2 quickly tells you if you baby is 'happy' or not. High=happy, low=not
  • SpO2 being at 100% for too long can cause blindness for


  • Sp02 being low (less than 75 ish %) for a long period will cause brain damage


  • The aim is to get oxygen requirement to 21%, air.


  • High oxygen requirements are not good, means lungs not doing well


Nappies were changed 6 hourly along with taking his temperature. Meds were given at their various intervals. We felt useless at first but then Geoff changed his nappy at 3 days old.. I was more hesitant and waited til day 6. Feeds started after a few days at 1 ml per hour.
At about a week old we got a call at 10pm telling us he was not really coping on the standard ventilation and had to be changed to a High Frequency Oscillator. HFO. I just said "Ok...", hung up and wondered what it all meant. I didn't think to ask any questions and the next morning the nurse laughed and told me the doctor thought I must have been a bit bewildered since I didn't say much. The machine made his chest, and therefore his whole body, shake as it gave him 900 breaths per minute. Not a typo. 900. It also made a constant rattling noise. It was not until seeing him that I understood why they called. Not for permission but to stop parental heart attacks.
Note to self: when hospitals call to tell you stuff, ask questions.






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