The Worst Was Over…
They took Zachary into surgery around 1:00pm on April 20th. Chris and I went back to my room and sat in silence for a while. My hormones started to really kick in, so I would break down every now and again. I was able to doze off here and there, but my thoughts were never off of my baby.
At 5:30, we couldn’t take it anymore and called the NICU for an update. Deirdre got on the phone and actually told us that she just heard from the OR, they were done with surgery, and he was heading back to the NICU shortly to recover.
I couldn’t breathe. For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality, was only a matter of seconds, I didn’t know how he was. I literally think I stopped breathing until I heard Deirdre say, “He did great and he is doing well”. I put my hand to my face and sobbed. All I could do is give Chris a thumbs up to let him know that Zach was ok. “He had the obstruction”, sobs, “he did very well”, sobs, “his stats never dropped”, sobs, “he was stable the whole time”, sobs, “he doesn’t have an ostomy bag, they were able to reconnect the bowel”, sobs, “they were already able to extubate him”, sobs, “I’ll call the room when you are able to come down and see him”…sobs.
The relief I felt…I can not begin to explain. I just can’t. I could breathe. The worst was over. He made it through…
Chris just held me. He was a rock. He was my rock. He just held on and let me cry. God, I love that man.
Around 8:00 when we still hadn’t heard from the NICU, we called and asked if we could come down. His new nurse Linda said yes, and I don’t think a person one day after surgery has ever moved so fast. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold him, but I just wanted to see him, to touch him, to let him know that I was there, that I was with him. He wasn’t alone.
I don’t know what I was expecting to see. I don’t know how I was expecting him to look, but I thought he looked fantastic. Considering this was only the third time I had seen my baby in 30 hours, how could he look anything but amazing.?!
His incision was only about an inch and a half long, which was a lot smaller than I had expected. Chris and I were ready to make up a story to tell Zach about how he was attacked by a shark or something.
He was sleeping, which is what newborns do…but it’s also what newborns on anesthesia do.
We sat next to his warmer, and held his hands, touched his cheeks, told him how proud we were of him, and remarked on how well he looked and how good he was doing.
He started to get very fussy, I could tell he was in pain. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world to not be able to help your child when they’re in pain. What I would have given to take that pain from him…but this was his fight. And I would have fought it in a second if I could have, but he would have to do it.
All I could do was try and give him a pacifier. He was having no part of it, and I started to get so upset. I just wanted to help him…and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even stand next to him because I was in so much pain. I just cried.
Around 11:30pm, the nurse was gently suggesting that we go upstairs. She assured me that he was okay, and that she would call us if anything changed. She then told us that the NICU had a 24 hour open door policy for parents, and we could come down anytime, or call throughout the night. I had already started to fall asleep with my head on his bed, so I reluctantly agreed, and Chris wheeled me back to the room.
I remember calling a couple times throughout the night when I was awake pumping. Each time, his nurse Linda would say how well he was doing.
I fell asleep and in my dream, I was holding him…
They took Zachary into surgery around 1:00pm on April 20th. Chris and I went back to my room and sat in silence for a while. My hormones started to really kick in, so I would break down every now and again. I was able to doze off here and there, but my thoughts were never off of my baby.
At 5:30, we couldn’t take it anymore and called the NICU for an update. Deirdre got on the phone and actually told us that she just heard from the OR, they were done with surgery, and he was heading back to the NICU shortly to recover.
I couldn’t breathe. For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality, was only a matter of seconds, I didn’t know how he was. I literally think I stopped breathing until I heard Deirdre say, “He did great and he is doing well”. I put my hand to my face and sobbed. All I could do is give Chris a thumbs up to let him know that Zach was ok. “He had the obstruction”, sobs, “he did very well”, sobs, “his stats never dropped”, sobs, “he was stable the whole time”, sobs, “he doesn’t have an ostomy bag, they were able to reconnect the bowel”, sobs, “they were already able to extubate him”, sobs, “I’ll call the room when you are able to come down and see him”…sobs.
The relief I felt…I can not begin to explain. I just can’t. I could breathe. The worst was over. He made it through…
Chris just held me. He was a rock. He was my rock. He just held on and let me cry. God, I love that man.
Around 8:00 when we still hadn’t heard from the NICU, we called and asked if we could come down. His new nurse Linda said yes, and I don’t think a person one day after surgery has ever moved so fast. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold him, but I just wanted to see him, to touch him, to let him know that I was there, that I was with him. He wasn’t alone.
I don’t know what I was expecting to see. I don’t know how I was expecting him to look, but I thought he looked fantastic. Considering this was only the third time I had seen my baby in 30 hours, how could he look anything but amazing.?!
His incision was only about an inch and a half long, which was a lot smaller than I had expected. Chris and I were ready to make up a story to tell Zach about how he was attacked by a shark or something.
He was sleeping, which is what newborns do…but it’s also what newborns on anesthesia do.
We sat next to his warmer, and held his hands, touched his cheeks, told him how proud we were of him, and remarked on how well he looked and how good he was doing.
He started to get very fussy, I could tell he was in pain. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world to not be able to help your child when they’re in pain. What I would have given to take that pain from him…but this was his fight. And I would have fought it in a second if I could have, but he would have to do it.
All I could do was try and give him a pacifier. He was having no part of it, and I started to get so upset. I just wanted to help him…and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even stand next to him because I was in so much pain. I just cried.
Around 11:30pm, the nurse was gently suggesting that we go upstairs. She assured me that he was okay, and that she would call us if anything changed. She then told us that the NICU had a 24 hour open door policy for parents, and we could come down anytime, or call throughout the night. I had already started to fall asleep with my head on his bed, so I reluctantly agreed, and Chris wheeled me back to the room.
I remember calling a couple times throughout the night when I was awake pumping. Each time, his nurse Linda would say how well he was doing.
I fell asleep and in my dream, I was holding him…