Time Passes

 

Gabriel was born on December 22, 2003, eight years ago today. According to the doctors he was four weeks early, so his first days were spent in the ‘Bear Nursery,’ the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) for babies who are in really rough shape. He weighed five and a half pounds, and looked huge next to the two-pound preemies. Thankfully, he required little attention from the busy, buzzing nurses.

There was baby in the nursery that had Hydrocephalus. I knew it was a possibility that Gabriel would be diagnosed with that as well, so I paid special attention to that baby boy. I remember his mother. She looked scared, she didn’t speak English and seemed to have a hard time understanding the neurosurgeon. So did I, as I eavesdropped on his explanations. I was scared and sad for her. How in the hell was she going to manage the situation? I was so glad it wasn’t me.

After a couple days, Gabriel was wheeled across the hall to the ‘Bunny Nursery.’ Here things were a bit mellower. If a place that costs $15,000 a day, can be called ‘mellow.’ On this side of the hall, things were quieter, fewer beeping monitors, fewer people. Gabriel was jaundiced so was wrapped in a Biliblanket. Jaundice is treated by exposure to light, so someone created a blanket that glows. It creates a sweet glowworm green effect on the swaddled little babies. My daughter had been jaundiced too, so we simply let her sleep naked in a sunny spot on the couch. But with Gabriel everything was different, absolutely everything.

Gabriel spent 15 days in the NICU. Though it felt much longer. It was an interesting place to hang out, except that my baby was sleeping in a plastic box and strangers were taking care of him. The blunt reality is that an artificial environment is nurturing your baby because, for whatever reason, you can’t do it yourself. It sucks. It sucks a lot. And it was so unfamiliar, full of medical terms, tests and procedures. Descriptions and measurements of the indescribable, a child, a boy— snips, snails and puppy dog tails.

A priority in the NICU is getting the babies to eat on their own. Gabriel couldn’t manage this right away, though I can’t be sure he was given the opportunity. He was fed with a feeding tube, it went in his nose down to his stomach. The tube is called a Gavage, a term I would prefer to know nothing about. I held a syringe that was attached to the tube and slowly pushed the plunger forcing a cocktail of breast milk and formula into his belly.

The number of babies in the nursery would fluctuate. Some stayed for a couple days, quickly passing their discharge tests. Others were there longer. I noticed the babies who never had visitors, the ones who didn’t get picked up or held except when a nurse had a free moment and an inclination to sit in a rocking chair.

I asked a nurse about the lonely babies.

She said, “Have you noticed how often you are the only parent in this room?”

I had not until she mentioned it. I understand a bit why those parents didn’t want to be there. It was intimidating and scary, and though we had children in the nursery, we were slightly treated like we were unworthy. Not quite suitable for parenting, not quite capable of handling things on our own. We were trespassing on someone else’s turf.

All of this happened at Christmas time. I had a three year old at home and an early infant in the hospital. I made my way to the nursery as often as I could, at least twice a day. Sophia was too young to visit, so I satisfied her curiosity about her brother with photos and sketchy videos.

Sometimes I would bring people with me, allowed one visitor at a time. One friend, Gabriel in his hands, looked at me and said, “I don’t want to leave.” This was a remarkable considering the guilty sign of relief I exhaled every time I walked out of that room.

Each time I entered the nursery, I was required to scrub my hands and arms up to my elbows with a brush and medical soap. Now, I will occasionally smell that soap and the scent will instantly send me back to that time and place. That place of hyper care and plastic nurturing.

 

 

Comments

[Steve Spencer]

Leilani, thank you sincerely for making me cry this morning. Your strength has always been so impressive. Thank you for reminding me that people are people, and that they are what is important. That people have things in their lives that are real, and too deep and precious for words. That everyone is special. And that all too often I build my own emotional bubbles, and leave too many "lonely babies" in my wake.

Thank you.

[Jodie]

Big hugs Leilani! Thanks for sharing your thoughts and helping bring everything into perspective.

[Dennyse]

Thank you for sharing this, Leilani. It's beautiful and sad and so strong. You are wonderful and I'm so blessed to know you!

[Shannon]

I love you, L. You always inspire me. xxoo

[elisapiper]

I didn't realize Gabriel's birthday was in December. Must be hard every year. It's inspiring how you have taken these experiences and are working to make the world better for the families that find themselves in this place as well. Wishing you much peace this Solstice!

[Ashley Jennings]

Wow. Thank you for sharing.