My memory of the details of the next twenty-four hours are somewhat hazy. After they took Aiden from my arms, I must've gone into a mild state of shock. I had just given birth to a beautiful boy who was in some serious trouble. I was exhausted but incredibly relieved that I didn't end up with a C-section. However, I was supposed to be basking in the beauty of my precious little boy; nuzzling him, nursing him. I couldn't see or touch him and it nearly drove me insane. I remember thinking "This is not how it's supposed to be." The only things running through my mind were affirmations like "He's going to be okay, he's going to be okay" and "I need to breastfeed him NOW." Hormones took over my body and mind and I had trouble containing the Grizzly mom inside of me screaming "GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!!!" But, I didn't say a word for some time. I stared blankly around the room as Dr. Brown quietly stitched me up, hoping that only the best and brightest were working on my boy.
He wasn't breathing on his own for the first few minutes. They suctioned his nose and mouth as much as possible and started breathing for him with a handheld ventilator. They rolled him out of the room and Wes followed the trauma team and Aiden to the nursery where they would determine the need for him to be life-flighted to a NICU. Wes and I agreed early on that should anything happen or if Aiden needed to leave my room, one of us would stay with him at all times. Little did we know that this would cause a whole other set of problems...
There was a nurse who helped with the delivery who from the start, rubbed me the wrong way. Let's call her Dragon-Lady (DL) for the sake of anonymity. I probably had close to a dozen different nurses over the course of my labor, and every single one of them had introduced themselves to me, smiled, established eye contact, used my name, acted like they cared, etc. In short, they had established trust. All except DL. To her, I may as well have been a house plant. So, when Aiden came out in such distress and DL whisked him away to work on him, this gave us pause. It was for this reason and the fact that it had been communicated to us that we would always be able to stay with our baby, that Wes followed DL and the rest of the team into the nursery.
Aiden needed an I.V., which can be tricky to administer in newborns. DL exclaimed, "we need to place the I.V. in his head, so get him (Wes) out of here." The Grizzly dad inside of Wes replied authoritatively, "I'm not leaving my baby." Another nurse who had been a force for good throughout the labor and delivery defended Wes's right to stay. DL did NOT appreciate this. The tension between the two nurses was so thick, you could've sliced it with a scalpel.
Wes does not grow faint at the sight of blood, nor is he known for throwing temper tantrums in public places (except occasionally on the church basketball court.) Granted, DL and the rest of the trauma team working on Aiden didn't know Wes from Adam, but all evidence pointed to the fact that Wes would stay back and quietly observe. Had DL exercised a little bedside manner earlier on, Wes would've been more inclined to leave Aiden in her capable hands. That didn't happen. Wes was not leaving. The nurse drama that transpired earned us several visits from apologetic nurse managers who 1) ensured us that despite her lack of people skills, DL's vast experience in emergency situations in large NICU environments made her the exact person we would want to care for Aiden and 2) once Aiden was on the mend, they would be happy to reassign DL elsewhere. We obliged.
Meanwhile, back in Room 1, I remember the doctor and nurses stepping out of the room, leaving just my mom and me. My mom stood by my side, looked and me and said "He's going to be okay." At that moment, I lost all control of my emotions.
There are different kinds of tears people cry. There are happy tears, angry tears. Tears you cry when you've been physically hurt, and tears that fall from loneliness or empathy. People cry on behalf of themselves and others. And sometimes we cry for no reason at all. I don't cry very often, but the tears that gushed out of me that day were from some deeper place than I've ever known. These were "please save my baby" tears. There is nothing like them. I don't think I stopped crying for the next two hours. I could barely breathe.
People came and went. Nurses. Doctors. Wes's parents. But no baby, not for two hours. I was starved for information. Why were the doctors giving others updates and not me, his mother? Didn't they know I could kill someone for details? Dr. Lavender stopped by and noticed that I was completely losing it, so after a quick update- "he's stable and under close surveillance," she took my Nikon into the nursery and came back with a couple of shots of my Aiden.
And now for a dose of brutal honesty... I looked at the pictures and thought, "I have no idea who that child is." He couldn't possibly be mine. I felt no connection to him. It's not that I didn't care about his well-being: I have a soft spot for any child in distress. It's that I had missed those crucial first minutes with my baby that allowed me to develop that unmistakable, unbreakable bond everyone talks about; the bond I had with Liam at birth. I didn't recognize my own baby. Am I a horrible person? What kind of mother does that make me? All kinds of negative thoughts ran through my mind that sent me into a tailspin of panic.
How could I recover what had been lost?
Dr. Lavender assured me that Aiden would be okay and that he was already showing signs of improvement. His APGAR score had gone from about a one to a nine in just a couple of hours, even though we were not yet out of the woods. He had inhaled meconium which presents the possibility of a slew of problems including pneumonia and other respiratory issues. Hanging on every word she and the nurses told me, I was starting to feel some relief.
Just then, Wes returned from the nursery in a state of panic. I had never seen him like that before. Furrowed brow, close to tears, pacing, talking fast...I had JUST heard a fairly good update from the pediatrician. Why the state of alarm? My heart raced. She must've missed something. Wes was mumbling things like "the ventilator wasn't working..." and "possible brain damage." I had to gauge if this was Wes giving me the cold, hard truth of the situation or if it was, in fact, his own speculation and perhaps overreaction. I was confused, exhausted and terrified.
After what seemed like and eternity, Dr. Lavender brought Aiden to me to nurse. I decided that if he was healthy enough to leave the nursery, this was a very good sign. I felt satisfied with the doctor's assessment of the situation- that Aiden would recover to near perfect health.
I studied every detail of his face, memorized his sounds, learned his movements. All of the self-doubt I had experienced earlier melted away until..."YES, I know you." He was already a professional nurser (he had to have been hungry after that journey!) I remember thinking he looked a lot like Wes. Finally, a son of his own! (Liam is a carbon-copy of me.) Sweet, sweet serenity. The bonding was delayed, but it happened.
Aiden was hooked up to a machine for nearly 48 hours which administered oxygen when needed, measured his vitals and saturation and sounded the most obnoxious alarm anytime he moved the wires resulting in lost signals. Around 3am on Monday the 19th, the nurses came into our room excitedly and implored us to come visit Aiden. He was like a different baby...completely alert, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed! It was a joy to behold. I know that Wes and I both were saying many silent thank-you's to Heavenly Father that night.
While it was fairly clear that Aiden would continue to improve, there was still the chance that he (we) would have to stay a week or more in the hospital. The doctors told us that Aiden had developed a small pneumothorax; a small pocket of air had escaped from his lung causing it to collapse somewhat, probably from the handheld ventilator. They took several x-rays to determine its size and whether or not it was dissipating on its own. It was. After 48 hours, the blood culture showed no signs of pneumonia or any other problems. Aiden was able to maintain normal saturation levels without oxygen 24 hours after his birth. It seemed that every piece of news we heard after those first terrifying hours was good news. Even the ER visit the night after we got home turned out to be a minor congestion issue (solved with $700 saline).
Have you ever seen the movie, 17 Miracles? In my mind, that is kind of how I refer to this whole birth experience. There were so many moments that should've had bad outcomes; so many near misses. In fact, I am confident that it was our reliance on Heavenly Father that helped everyone through. Wes gave me a blessing at home when I first went into labor. Soon after he was born, we prayed together that Aiden's health would be fully restored. Aiden was given a blessing by Wes, Uncle Kevin and Papa John while recovering in the nursery. I could feel the many prayers of our friends and family being answered along the way...
Aiden's arrival into this world affected me spiritually more than any other event in my life. Our bond is solid gold, and I am thankful for it. I could not possibly love this little boy more than I do now; I would do anything for him. I am grateful for our health, our growing family, my amazing husband, the fact that Liam seems to still like us, our wonderful friends/extended family and modern medicine. Life is beautiful.
Aiden Elijah Charles
Born March 18, 2012 at 2:04pm
8.0 pounds, 22.5 inches
The End (or beginning). Peace!
