"He Isn't Breathing On His Own"

I was diagnosed with Complete Placenta Previa early on in my 4th pregnancy. I had had a partial with my middle daughter but it thankfully moved. This time we weren't so lucky. It stayed exactly where it was the entire pregnancy thus resulting in needing to have a C-section at 36 weeks. I was scared out of my mind. My other children had been born naturally and without complication and I had no idea what to expect. My one and only fear the entire pregnancy is that my son would be born not breathing. I had nightmares about it, cried for hours over this fear, and it gripped me like a plague.

The day came for my scheduled C-section. I was surprisingly calm that morning when I woke up and started getting ready to go to the hospital with my partner. I was actually excited that in only a few hours we would get to meet our son. I checked in, they prepped me, and we were just waiting for 8 o'clock. They rolled me down the hall at exactly 8 and I could not wait to have our boy in our arms.

After the initial routine spinal and other prep, it was time to start. I didn't feel a thing and didn't even know they had pulled him out till the anesthesiologist said so. I didn't think too much of it at the time, then I started getting worried because I hadn't heard him crying. I started freaking out at this point, asking everyone in the room what's wrong and is he okay and why isn't he crying. They all assured me he was okay and they were just getting him to cleaned up. I could barely hear a whimper coming from the corner where they had him. They brought him over and I was able to give him a quick kiss before they rushed him out of the room, followed by my partner. They finished up with me and I was wheeled back to my room oblivious to what was going on with my son.

My partner came to the recovery room soon after with the news that something was wrong with his lungs. We waited impatiently for what seemed like forever when the head nurse of the nursery came in. "He isn't breathing on his own." My worst fear was alive. My heart was breaking, my mind was racing, and all I wanted was to see my son. She proceeded to tell us that he was on 100% oxygen and they would wait a bit to see if anything would change but it was a possibility he would have to be transported to a bigger hospital with a NICU. My baby boy was fighting for his life.

After I was moved to a postpartum room, they asked if I would like to go see him and of course I would have crawled to him if I had to, so yes I wanted to go see him. They helped me into a wheelchair and took me to my sweet son. He was so little. His chest looked like something from an alien. It seemed as though it was working backwards than it should have, that's the only way I can describe it. We could only barely touch him for a few moments at a time or his heart rate would skyrocket. He didn't like being touched. After awhile of sitting next to him, they came to tell us the transport team was on their way to take him to a NICU in a hospital 45 minutes away. When the transport team arrived, we had to go back to my room while they prepped him. Let me tell you, when they brought him into my room, in this scary looking box, and all I could see was his tiny arms and legs, I broke down. He looked so helpless and there was nothing I could do for him. Then, they took my baby away. My baby was gone. I would hear the other newborns crying and it was like a longing in my body for my own. I felt so much guilt, fear, pain that I didn't know how to cope with it. My baby who was only a few hours old at this point, was in some strange hospital alone and I could do nothing but lay in bed. We got a call later that when he had arrived at the NICU, they were able to turn the oxygen down some but had to turn it up again. I was begging to be let go the next day so I could go be with my son. Mind you, for a C-section, it's mandatory to stay in the hospital for at least 96 hours. I was discharged in a little over 24 hours. I was in a TON of pain but I didn't care. I just needed to be with my baby.

To make an even longer story short, when they had preformed the C-section, to be able to get him out, they had to cut through the placenta. Being that he was also breech did not help at all, because when they had to cut the placenta, it cut off his oxygen and he gulped in a lot of amniotic fluid. They said his lungs were also those of a premie which didn't help at all. Both his lungs ended up collapsing, and they had a hell of a time keeping the air out. Seeing your newborn baby with chest tubes coming from both lungs, on a ventilator, feeding tube, PIC line, being sedated; it is one of the worst sights a parent can see. All I wanted was to hold my baby, hear him cry like a normal baby. I wished just to see him MOVE at all. The NICU became our home for the next few weeks. You learn so many new terms that you never thought you would have to know, you hear the beeps and you know which beeps mean what. You watch as your baby's heartrate drops and the monitor goes off and all nurses rush to his room. The nurses become family and there is a special bond created because they have your baby's life in their hands.

I finally got to hold my son a week after he was born. It was only for a few minutes and he was still hooked up to everything but in those few moments, time stopped for me. Nothing else going on mattered at all. I didn't think about anything but my sweet boy in my arms. It was a scary road but he was and still is a fighter. He is our hero and is now a funny, adorable, and sweet 1 year old. The only effects he has from his traumatic start are small hole scars on each side of his chest from the tubes and he rattles when he breathes. It causes him no distress and he will likely always have that. Before that experience I never thought much about donating to charity for babies and whatnot, but now, I have a much different view on it and since living through it, I donate as much as I can as often as I can.