Unless you or a close family member or friend have ever had a baby decide to come into this world really, really early, you probably have no idea what the preemie world is like.
That was me a few months ago. My first son was born full-term without incident. This one, not so much. Go ahead and read what sounds like a redneck reality show but is exactly what happened. I’ll wait.
The best way I can describe the process of getting a preemie ready for the world is 2 steps forward, 1 3/4 steps back. One day, you step into the NICU to see he’s made some sort of progress, like, say, he’s taken his bottle just fine, coordinating his suck, swallow, breathe reflex perfectly. This goes on for 2 or 3 days, and then for no discernible reason, he no longer knows how to do it and goes back to forgetting to breathe – which is a pretty important part of the living process.
This is just one small example of the roller-coaster preemie world. You honestly never know what you’re gonna get when you arrive in the NICU – unless you’ve called a few minutes before getting there and asked.
It’s up. It’s down. It’s forward. Then back.
Last week, Meyer had 4 or 5 days of mind-blowing progress, and since he’s getting close to “full term,” I thought we were days away from the elimination of all problems and baby coming home.
I was elated. But I am a slow-learner, it seems.
Somehow I had not gleaned from all of our previous episodes of progress then steps back that the same thing could happen again. And it did. Nevertheless, the doctor says he is almost ready to come home.
We will probably bring him home with some of the equipment he seems to have become permanently attached to, like his heart monitor and maybe his feeding tube, but at least he’ll be home. And all of that stuff will be temporary.
It’s been quite a ride, and we’re physically and emotionally exhausted. But honestly, we’re lucky. When you spend every day at a children’s hospital, where you can overhear the problems other people are having, it will rearrange your perspective really fast.
Trust me. Someone always has it worse than you. Some of them much, much worse.
So today, I count my blessings. Meyer’s road may not be short but my baby’s gonna be okay.
If you like this post, please click the Facebook like button within the post or share! And subscribe now so to stay in touch. I’ll send you an email when there’s a new post (once or twice a week) and no spam ever.