I kept calling the NICU throughout the night to ask how Zachary was doing. Every time I called they told me you were doing great. Although I was sure they told that to most every parent, it was still reassuring to hear.
In the morning, I was moving as fast as I could so we could go down and see Zach. I still hadn’t held him yet, and it was breaking my heart. I had an anxiety- that nervous butterfly feeling that you get in your stomach that wouldn’t go away. I just needed to see him!
Chris got me a wheelchair and off we went. We buzzed the door, and said that we were Zachary’s parents and they let us in. We had to stop at the desk and fill out a form saying that we hadn’t been sick in the last two weeks (as if that would have stopped me), and gave us stickers with 4-20-15 written on them.
Chris wheeled me back into Zachary’s pod and over to his warmer. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was beautiful. I wanted to scoop him up, I wanted to run out the door with him, I just remember thinking, “how can he not be ok? Look at him…he’s perfect”. Chris and I sat there commenting on how good he looked, and how adorable he was. I was aching to hold him. Physically aching. His nurse was busy helping another baby, so I had to wait. I didn’t even know if it was okay for me to hold him.
Finally, his nurse Deirdre, asked me the question I had been dying to answer…”have you held him yet”?
Through the tears I simply answered, “no”.
She picked him right up, and placed him into my arms. I had been waiting for this moment from the moment we found out we were expecting him. It was beautiful.
I remember leaning over and kissing his face, holding his hand, touching his cheek. He was so precious. I wanted to stay in this moment forever. In this moment there were no nurses, no tubes or wires, no beeping, no NICU, no worries. It was just a mom holding her newborn. I had read so much on the benefits of skin to skin holding, or kangaroo care. I planned my hospital wardrobe around it. I wanted to place him on my chest. I wanted him to feel my warmth. I knew it would be so healing. Not only for him, but for me as well. But I was lost in this moment of holding my baby for the first time.
His nurse then came over and asked if anyone had spoken to us about Zachary getting a PICC line.
My precious moment was gone…
We signed the consent for Zach’s PICC line, and they immediately started to prep for it. They explained that this was a sterile procedure, and we would not be able to stay with him while they attempted the line.
They were ready to start, and we had to leave. Leave? How could I leave my baby? I just came down, we didn’t get enough time, Chris hasn’t held him yet..
They said the procedure can take a couple hours, so give them a call in about an hour and see where they are.
We kissed Zachary goodbye, and Chris pushed me back up to my room. We were just waiting. Waiting to call, waiting to see him again, waiting for them to say it was time for surgery.
When we finally called, Deirdre said that the PICC line went in beautifully, and it only took a ½ hour. She then said the words we had been anticipating all day; “it’s actually time for his surgery. They’ll be taking him back shortly”.
I froze. I had thought about this moment all day. Actually, I had been thinking about this moment for the last 11 days since we had found out he would need surgery. This wasn’t the way I envisioned it. I was supposed to kiss him, I was supposed to hold him until it was time. I was supposed to be with him. I was supposed to tell him I loved him. I didn’t get any of that. It was just time for surgery…