Ugggh. So in the NICU there is this "Graduation" board that displays letters from parents of babies that were lucky enough to get out of the NICU, or "graduate" from the NICU. Sometimes they would even refer to it as "going out for pizza." Anyway, I would pass by this board and read the letters daily. There were some thank-you cards that just had the baby's birth weight and then the at-home weight.... there were a few letters that were more detailed about the baby's stay (like "my baby's PDA closed with meds - Woo hoo!") Every time I would pass by the board, I would visualize MY letter on that board. My baby's graduation letter. My story of triumph over the NICU. So now I'm trying to write said letter and it is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I want to be honest and say that most of the time it sucked. Hard. I had to hand over my tiny baby to people (strangers) and trust that they would be good to her. I had to stand back while they worked on her. I had to hold her down when they suctioned out her lungs. I had to ask to hold my baby. I didn't always get to pick who would care for her... I had to trust that the nurse wouldn't pull the curtain and call my baby names when an IV went bad (true story - with another baby though, not mine). I want to tell Chloe's story - but I guess a thank you note isn't the place to do that. Chloe has a great story. I have 50+ pages detailing her story. Like this day:
~~~
November 9, 2007. We got in with Chloe for cares at noon and Chloe desatted badly. She dropped her heartrate to the 60s and her O2 dropped to 29! Nicole had to bag her to bring her back up. Chloe turned completely blue and I almost passed out. It was like she was just trying not to breathe at all. She came back up with Nicole bagging her and after Nicole flicked her foot she brought her heart rate up. They suctioned her immediately and she had lots of thick secretions. It was very scary. I was okay until Marissa (nurse) asked how I was -- I told her I was okay- although I was less than okay. I wanted to scream. Nicole handled it very well - she didn't miss a beat and she seemed very sure of herself. I was glad she was there to take care of Chloe. After Chloe was suctioned she seemed to be doing much better. She's satting 92 now, which is excellent! I could actually hear Chloe trying to cough when we got in for cares. That's only the third noise I've ever heard her make other than 1) her cry at birth and 2) an air leak in her ET tube - so even if it's just a cough, I like to hear it. I can't wait until we can get the ET tube out.
~~~
I think I'll just keep it to more of a THANK YOU for saving my baby letter, rather than a HEY IT SUCKS TO BE HERE BUT WE MADE THE BEST OF IT letter. There were so many bad days, and on the flip, so many good days. There was the day that there was a man in the lactation room. The room, solely for women who needed to pump breast milk, was really the only place you could get away - and there was a dude in there. It wouldn't be so bad, but when you're sitting there trying to pump (*breast milk*) it's a little weird when you have to listen to a conversation between Husband/Wife about the parts to the machine (attached to her) and how it "works." I wanted to say, "It sucks, just like you for being here - in the lactation room -- so unless you plan on lactating some time soon, you might want to leave." Luckily, I had a nurse tell him ever-so-politely for me (thanks Denise).
There was also the day when the comfort Clown came in. Really? A huge scary clown is supposed to be comforting? They offered to put a red nose on me and take a photo. Um, no thanks. I'll pass all day long on that one.
There was the day that Santa came... I got to dress Chloe in clothes for the first time ever -- she was already almost 3 months old and had never worn more than a diaper. Poor girl. Anyway, the real-live-Santa-from-the-North-Pole came to the NICU. He makes special trips like that for micro-preemies. I dressed Chloe in Build-a-Bear workshop clothes... she'll never forgive me, but she looked pretty cute. 
There were SO many days that were so inappropriately filled with laughter due to my primary, Tori. She has the sharpest wit. Ever. One day I came in to find that the baby who used to occupy the space next to Chloe had passed away the night before. This was a baby that I had sat next to for 2 weeks -- talking to his parents, hearing their worries, praying for their baby. So I walk in to find that his name is off the white board. They just erased it and there was no longer a bed there. So what used to be a space for a twin was now empty. Tori was Chloe's nurse that day. I started to cry (surprise, surprise) and she put her arm around me. She then told some sort of inappropriate story and I wrote this on that day:
November 20, 2007
I came in sad today and Tori is so upbeat its insane. It is impossible to be down when she's around.
So there were good days - and bad days- mostly bad days that turned into good days due to either good blood gasses or good humored nurses.
Maybe I should just bake them some cookies. My cookies are pretty good - and that's a lot better than offending someone. I think I'll leave out the part where the nurse smelled of Italian dressing and cigarettes - maybe then there will be no offense. I don't think I'll name names because then I'll surely forget someone. Like Otto the camo-wearing RT. Wouldn't want to forget him. Maybe I'll just start writing and see what happens. (Even though that's the way I started this entry....and look what happened).
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