The NICU

*I started writing this post about 8 weeks ago.  Forgive the delay.  I wanted to do this experience justice, for myself and Isaiah.  This whole multiple kid thing has thrown me for a loop ;)

About 36 hours after giving birth to our son, things were going great.  The morphine fog had cleared, allowing me to eat, get up and shower, even fix my hair.  I was moved to a larger room with a nice queen size bed and lots of room to breathe.  Liv was in love with her new brother and would not put him down.  Family and friends were visiting, snapping pictures, and celebrating.  Yes, day two was wonderful.  Until...

A nurse came in to do a routine temp check on Isaiah.  It read 100.9, five tenths of a degree higher than what is considered within normal range.  She said she would let the nursery know.  I wasn't too terribly concerned as the room was fairly warm and he had been swaddled.  Not forty minutes later, the same nurse returned to the room with a solemn look on her face.  She didn't have to say anything.  I knew she was going to take my baby.  She told me they were going to be "admitting him to the NICU" and a neonatologist would be in shortly to answer our questions.

I was shocked.  I hear those words all the time at work.  We are constantly told such and such is going to be admitted here or there.  But this was my child.  And he was being admitted to the NICU.  Serious stuff. What was wrong with my baby?

I took a few moments (seconds really) to say goodbye to Isaiah, and then watched as the nurse hurriedly whisked my baby away.  Then the tears came.  And my hands shook.  My dad asked if I wanted to pray.  Angrily I said, "No.  I don't want to pray.....I don't want to do anything."  I collapased into my pillow and sobbed.  How could this be happening?  Again?  Olivia had a fairly severe case of jaundice.  It was so painful to leave the hospital without her in my arms.  Still today it is one of the hardest things I have ever done.  In. My. Life.  Throughout my pregnancy with Isaiah, it never occured to me it might happen again.  I assumed that he would be coming home with me.  So, in addition to being scared and worried about my son's health...I was angry.  I'm ashamed to admit that.  But I was...furious.  How could He allow this to happen...for the second time?

The Neonatologist came to my room and explained that this was routine due to Isaiah's elevated temperature.  They were going to start antibiotics right away just in case there was an infection somewhere.  They would give the culture time to grow, as few as three days, as many as five.  He said they were considering Isaiah a "well baby" until they knew otherwise.  We just had to wait.

In the meantime, I was encouraged to continue nursing which meant we could visit at least every three hours or so.  I was relieved that we'd still be able to have contact with our son.  When we went in for the first time, I wasn't at all prepared for what I saw.  There he was hooked up to all kinds of beeping monitors.  The tiny blood pressure cuff had left red markings on his arms.  His head was taped with the IV line that would administer his antibiotics.

It wasn't until he was in my arms that I felt a sense of peace. And in that moment I realized how foolish I was to be angry with God. I asked Him to forgive me and I plead that He shower his mercies on Isaiah. Let this be nothing, Father. Don't let anything grow on that culture. Please, please, please...no infection. Lord, I don't want to leave this hospital without my baby...

I learned once again that God's ways are not always like ours.  I'll never know what caused Isaiah's temp to spike.  The culture grew nothing, chest x-rays were good, and no diagnosis was ever made.  He spent time in the NICU to essentially rule-out infection.  And after four days in the hospital, my husband and I left without our baby.

Two days later Isaiah was up for discharge! To say I was overjoyed would be an understatement! One day I'll tell this little man how my heart raced all morning. I'll tell him that I fought back the tears while we got him dressed (in an outfit that his NICU nurses said fit his personality to a tee!)...

I'll tell him about how we adjusted his shoulder straps about fifty times before his nurse was satisfied...nearly driving Mommy B-A-N-A-N-A-S because I was so ready to get him outta there! 


Honestly though? I am so grateful for all the ladies that cared for this little prince!



I'll tell him how amazing his Daddy was through it all.  He was so good to me.  I'll tell Isaiah about how in my darkest, most emotional moments his Daddy held me together.  He unselfishly gave, at times putting his own emotions on the back burner.  I'll tell him that we must've made that walk down to the NICU at least fifty times, and that there is no one else with whom I'd rather walked.   I'll tell him how that week reaffirmed a thousand times why I married his Daddy.

My sweet boy,

I love you more than words can say.

The day we brought you home was and will remain to be one of the happiest days of my life.

I pray for God's wisdom as we raise you, that you would be an incredible man just like your Daddy.

You have so many that love you, little one.  

Your big sissy thinks you hung the moon, and since bringing you home has been in love!

You have completed me in ways that I had no idea needed completing.
Olivia says that "we got the best baby boy for us."

I think she's right.  You are the best.

My heart is so full.

I love you, Isaiah.



Goodbye, NICU!

The NICU will always hold a special place in my heart.

The hallway we walked several times each day.





Isaiah spent less than two hours here.  Room 3006.  Mommy and Daddy's 2nd honeymoon...minus the #uknowwhat.