Most of you have heard these stories from 20 years ago. Probably even more times than you really wanted to, but alas I am Rachel. (You do remember my father and grandmother, right? They liked to spin a web every now and then too) In case you were wondering I am going to share them one more time. 20 years ago we experienced just about every emotion known to man. Almost. Every. One. I can still close my eyes and feel what I was feeling then. I can smell the smells and hear the sounds. I think maybe this always happens when your life changes in a heartbeat. Even in an out of synch, very sick heartbeat. Such emotions...
Pure Love
Man, there is nothing like holding your newborn baby. Looking into their amazing eyes takes you to a new place in your world. You have looked forward to this moment for 9 months. The weight of a baby in your arms is something so satisfying that I find it hard to put into words. There are lots of other words that can describe this moment...wonder, awe, astonishment but when I think of it, it's love that bubbles up.
Confusion
Oh, our best laid plans. They can change so quickly. Nurse Jenny didn't really go over what could go wrong during our childbirth class. Nurse Jenny didn't show us this room during our tour of the birthing center. Nurse Jenny didn't really explain that if you have an epidural (and something goes wrong) (and you have to go to this room) that you really won't be able to move or feel your legs much less walk to be with your baby. Nurse Jenny didn't tell us that (if something goes wrong) (and you have to go to this room) this hospital doesn't have a level 2 nursery, this hospital can't do an intubation on a baby, this hospital can't do much for a baby who isn't healthy (if something goes wrong) (and you go to this room). Nurse Jenny didn't think she would have to be explaining this to a 12 23 year old first time mom (when something went wrong) (in this room) (where this hospital can't do an intubation).
Helplessness
This is what I felt the most during the next 3 weeks of this story. We couldn't help that it was storming and the helicopter couldn't fly. We couldn't help the ambulance get there faster. We couldn't help that our baby was under a plastic hood that looked like a cake plate. We couldn't help when the team from MUSC got there and very quickly shut the door and the blinds and stuck a tube into our itty bitty bitty baby, packed him up in an incubator, snapped a polaroid and whisked him out of our sight, into a waiting ambulance to drive through a storm. Charles couldn't help me when he had to leave with my dad to get up to the NICU to fill out paperwork and answer a million questions he didn't know the answers to. Amy couldn't help the tears that poured out of her eyes 36 hours later as she wheeled me out of the hospital with flowers and balloons but no baby in my arms. Helplessness is not a good feeling.
Trust (is that an emotion?)
Trust in God, trust in doctors and nurses, trust in technology, trust in machines. Because WE were helpless we had to trust. It's not always easy that trust thing. Trusting that God loved our baby more than we did was hard. Trusting doctors and nurses we didn't know was hard. Trusting technology that we didn't understand was hard. Trusting machines that were actually keeping our baby alive was almost impossible.
Fear
I probably don't need to say anything else (but alas, I am Rachel). Was this the last picture we were going to get to take with him? If we bump something will we mess up all the settings that are so hard to get just right? In the NICU everything is scary. The beeps and the flashing lights are scary. The hums of machines and the woosh of the ventilator is scary. The whispers of the attending physicians to the residents is scary (although the fussing and dressing downs were more scary). Let's just say the NICU is a scary place.
Disappointment
This wasn't how Halloween was supposed to be. We were supposed to be able to dress him up in the four different costumes we had picked out for him. This wasn't how being a grandmother for the first time was supposed to be. We were supposed to be able to snuggle him and kiss his sweet smelling head. We couldn't couldn't snuggle him or kiss him. Ha! We couldn't even touch him or talk to him. Our baby had a bad habit of having seizure-like brain activity and shutting down his heart pump when he had any stimulation. Imagine that....stubborn even then.
Utter Joy
To see your baby off of life support is another one I have trouble putting into words. No more tube in his mouth, no more seeing his blood outside of his body and going through a machine, no more blue lights, no more cannulas sticking out of the veins in his neck, no more sticky things on his head measuring brain waves. (Ok so he has 2 iv's sticking out of the top of his head which in all honesty was kinda creepier than some of the other stuff but hey we were going to get to touch him) JOY!
Hope
Once again in our arms. And that was just enough for us.
Peace
Everything after this we can handle together.
20 years ago Noah fought and won. 20 years ago our family stood by us. 20 years ago our friends prayed. 20 years ago the doctors knew what to do. 20 years ago they had the technology and machines to save his life. 20 years ago God loved my baby more than I did.
Thank you for these 20 years. I love you Noah Squires. You changed my life and I will be forever grateful.
