…….
6
You never realize how lucky you are with a healthy
child, until you have an ill child.
Our friends and relatives called us, worrying about me and my baby. But that day, I asked for visitors not to come because I couldn’t move, had lots of pain and needed rest. We appreciated our friends’ and relatives’ support. Even too many doctors and nurses kept coming in and out from my room.
When I had a moment, I called my Mother.
“Our baby has been born, but he is very ill,” I broke in tears while talking to Mom.
“Olga, please be strong. I feel your pain, my Daughter, and I wish I could help you, but what can I do? We will be praying. I know God has been healing other people. He will help. We will take care of your children. I will help you with meals. Tell Oleg to stop by any time. I will give him food to eat,” my Mother cried on the other end of the phone, while trying to ease my concerns.
Because of our son’s critical condition, I wasn’t able to breastfeed him or do the skin-to-skin contact. I knew this was important because in my job at WIC that was what I taught new mothers. I knew the skin-to-skin contact would enhance our son’s immune system. It would provide him better oxygenation, better heart rate and better temperature. He was all alone in an incubator, surrounded by wires, tubes and pumps with medications. I knew that the nurses were taking good care of him, but he was my baby and I was missing him. He and I were separated. Surprisingly, I was at peace. Oleg also felt at peace. He stayed with me that whole day and the next night.
…….
By the morning, the anesthesia was no longer affecting my body and the magnesium medication was stopped. The itching ended and, finally, I was able to sleep. I no longer felt dizzy and could walk with the nurse’s help. I was beginning to feel better and thanked God!
I received a phone call from my former co-worker, Kathy.
“Olga, I am coming to visit you!” she said.
At the same time, Oleg received a phone call from his cousin, Eddie.
“I am coming to visit you, brother.”
Eddie and Kathy arrived at about the same time, so Oleg spent time with Eddie and I spent time with Kathy. Kathy brought me two cards, one from her and one from my former co-worker Marge. I started reading them and the words from one of the cards made me cry. It said, “God knows everything you are going through and He will help you…”
Kathy comforted me. It was wonderful to have such friends, who worried about me and brought me cards that showed hope.
“Olga, I would like to see your baby,” Kathy said.
“I haven’t seen my baby myself,” I answered. “I felt so awful yesterday after the anesthesia and all medications, but I feel a lot better today. We can go see my baby together.”
“Walking that far would be impossible for me.”
I looked at Oleg.
“How will I get there? I am on the 14th floor and our baby is on the 12th. Is it far?”
“It is pretty far,” Oleg answered. “You will need to take a wheelchair.”
“No way. Wheelchairs are for disabled people. But now I have to use one?”
I wanted to see my baby so much, I complied with the rules and went to the NICU in a wheelchair. Kathy pushed it for me, while Oleg and his cousin walked behind us. We arrived at the NICU.
“Only three healthy visitors can see your baby at a time,” the clerk explained. “No children are allowed, only siblings.”
We signed in and washed our hands all the way up to the elbows. Then we went to the last room at the end of the hall, where the smallest babies were. Because there were four of us, Eddie waited in the hall and then came in after Kathy left. Four doctors were by our son’s bed. The doctors greeted us and told the updates on the baby.
“The last two days we have been worried and didn’t think that your baby would live. But he lives, so we are planning to meet with the surgeon and come up with a care plan for your son.”
After the doctors left, I looked around the room. There were four other raised beds with tiny babies, covered with a glass lid and small blankets. I realized our family was not the only family with problems. There was a baby who was even smaller than our baby. Two nurses were taking care of babies in that room. Some parents sat in the rocking chairs by their baby’s bed. Our son’s bed had a sign on it: “Anischenko Baby” with tiny footprints on it and the baby’s weight and length: 3lb 1 ounce and 14 inches.
With Oleg’s help, I got out of the wheelchair and came closer to the incubator.
“Our baby is so tiny!” surprised, I told Oleg. “David, Kristina and Michael were all 8 pounds at birth. I never imagined that our fourth baby would be only 3 pounds.”
Two rounded windows were on each side of the incubator. The nurse and Kathy were staying next to us.
“Olga, you can open the round windows and put your hands through to your baby,” the nurse explained. “But do not make any strokes. He may not like it. Your baby still needs to be in your womb for more than two months, not being touched.”
I opened the round windows, put my hands on our baby’s head and legs, and looked at his face. He was so beautiful with blond curly hair and looked so much like Oleg. The nurse told us more about his tubes and wires.
“An oxygen tube, taped to baby’s mouth, is going down into his lungs to help him breathe. The sensors on his chest check his oxygen, pulse, heartbeat and body temperature. The umbilical intravenous line is inserted though his belly button, so we can draw blood for labs. The PICC line (a prolonged IV) is inserted in his hand, so we can send in nutrition and medications.”
There was a tiny diaper on my baby and, luckily, his legs had nothing attached to them. Everything seemed beyond our control. Seeing our baby with the tubes scared me.
“It is real. What do we do now?” I asked my husband.
Oleg hugged me tight. I wanted to hold our newborn son and have some quiet time with him, but it wasn’t possible. I felt a strange wave of emotion like he was mine, but at the same time not mine. I tried so hard to control my feelings and to not cry. “This is serious. We and our baby are in deep trouble,” I thought.
“Your baby has jaundice, a medical condition with yellowing of the skin and whites of his eyes, arising from excess of the pigment bilirubin,” the nurse said. “We need to turn on the special light that will help his jaundice go away. I need to cover your son’s eyes with black glasses, close his incubator and keep him under the lights.”
Oleg and I stepped aside. I didn’t want to leave our son, but due to my pain, we returned to my room for more medications. I needed rest, and it was time for me to pump more milk. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I couldn’t say a word to Oleg, who laid quietly on the couch with his own tears.
When I calmed down, I called my sister, Luda. One of her children was also born premature.
“Olga, I know what you are going through,” she said. “I feel your pain.”
We both talked and sobbed. It was easier to talk with someone who had had similar experience and understood. I was so grateful for my sister’s support.
…….
In the afternoon, Oleg brought David, Kristina and Michael to visit me and meet their baby brother.
“Mom, why did the doctor cut your stomach? How big is your cut?” Michael asked, scared.
“The baby would have died if the doctors had not cut my stomach,” I answered. “The cut is about five inches long.”
“Did it hurt, Mom?”
