Nothing prepares you for NICU

There I stood trying to process everything around me – different lights, monitors, tubes, cries from babies (some shrill and strong, others frail.). Honestly, nothing prepares you for the NICU experience.

I tried to concentrate on my baby alone (as it should be, since I was there for him) but it was impossible with everything happening around.  Just by our cot was a poorly looking preterm baby boy who had no mother attending to him; all the other mothers looked sad and depressed.

It was a gloomy and unhappy atmosphere. Some of the mothers could hardly walk, particularly those who had been through caesarian sections.

How did I get here?

I tried to recollect the moments before the midwife shouted ‘Rush baby to NICU now’. Eight hours after delivery, I finally had the opportunity to see my baby and what I saw and how I felt, I still can’t find words to describe them today.

I didn’t know what birth asphyxia was but I knew what “severe” meant and so I understood whatever was happening was intense. There were two other charts stuck on the cot; one for seizures, the other for sugar levels.

It was a Monday morning and the unit was very busy. Nurses on routine feeding and diaper changing, doctors busily writing notes and attending to other cases (some were emergencies which required prompt attention.)

The nurse in charge of the cubicle asked me to grab a seat and try expressing breast milk manually (story for another day). She explained that my baby was currently on oxygen and couldn’t be breastfed till he was weaned off.

Not long afterwards, our visiting time was over. I tried to find one of the doctors to explain what was happening – what our condition meant and how long we would be on admission. The nurse advised that the doctors were usually busy in the mornings so it would be appropriate to speak to one at our next visit, which was three hours later.

As soon as I walked out of the NICU, I searched for ‘birth asphyxia’ on the internet. The results were scary but I remembered a post I had seen some time back on exaggeration of health conditions on the internet.

I assumed what I had read was one of such exaggerations so instead of worry, I would wait and speak to the doctor on my next visit.

Worst fears confirmed

By the next visit, the seizure chart had grown longer and the sugar levels were not getting any better. I went through same procedure; stood helplessly by the baby and later tried  to express breast milk manually till our visiting time was up.

This time I was able to speak to the doctor (now a very good friend) and although he tried to calm me he didn’t mince words with our condition and what the possible outcome could be.

Some of the long term effects of birth asphyxia could be epilepsy  and seizure disorders, learning disabilities, cerebral palsy, blindness, etc depending on the severity of the case.

He however advised that we kept praying and hoped the seizures stopped soon.                      

The walk from the third floor which housed the NICU to the second floor where my ward was, was one of the longest ever. I tried to hold back tears but couldn’t. My knees became weak. In less than 24 hours, my world had changed and I was living on hope.

My husband who was and still is very supportive in our journey had to run around for several laboratory tests and drugs and although he was equally disturbed by the baby’s condition, he tried to be calm.

I remember on our third day, I called him at dawn on phone and cried bitterly. The seizures were not getting any better. The baby was still on oxygen and the nurse I met that evening plainly told me to “pray hard” since our situation didn’t look good.

By the fifth day I was discharged from my ward and had to commute from the Kasoa Toll Booth where I lived then to the Korle Bu Teaching Hospital (over 20 kilometres) each day to attend to my baby.

Due to the distance and heavy vehicular traffic, I had to be at the hospital from morning till the last visit which ended at 8pm. We usually got home around 10pm and woke up by 4am to prepare and get to the hospital before 7 am. (The time fathers are allowed to visit in the mornings).

We had made some progress in the NICU by then. My baby had been completely taken off oxygen, the seizures had stopped and he had started feeding in bits.

Baby is moved

One afternoon during one of my routine visits, I walked into the cubicle but my baby was not in the cot. “Where is my baby?” I shouted, and almost everyone turned to look at me.

The nurse laughed and explained that he had been moved to the third cubicle, where babies who needed less intensive care were kept. I heaved a sigh of relief and walked to the room which had less complex machines, compared to the former cubicle.

By our third day in that cubicle, we were discharged but that didn’t mean our NICU journey was over. We had months of reviews at the NICU Clinic, Eye Clinic and also met specialists for different assessments at the ENT.

Our first night at home

I can’t end the story of my first NICU experience without expressing appreciation to the nurses and doctors at the Korle Bu Teaching Hospital who worked around the clock to keep my baby and many others alive.

I had a couple of issues with some nurses and workers at the hospital but most of the people I met were supportive and very professional. I also made some good acquaintances and some are helping me on this advocacy journey.

I’m also grateful to my family and friends who supported us in prayers, calls, and visits during our two-week stay at the NICU and after we were discharged.

Surviving the NICU is a miracle from God I NEVER take for granted. To Him, My family and I are eternally grateful.