I was browsing posts today that I have never published for one reason or another. Mostly because they weren't finished. I came across this one (typed out June 15, 2006)and I am stunned that I didn't publish it. Stunned mostly because I love nothing more than talking about my girlie and how amazing she is. But more stunned because rereading it now...wow, I still feel every single one of those emotions that I felt as I was going through the experience. Yes, with time you don't think of them nearly as often. But it amazes me how raw you can feel when you revisit it even 6 years later.
It seems that this was to be a follow up of this post
I know when I was typing it out that I wanted it to be about the first 3 1/2 months of her life, the time she spent in the NICU. I remember now thinking how long it was going to end up being. Maybe that was why I stopped. Or maybe it's because I was crying....just as I am now sitting here reading it again.
I didn't get to see you at all on the day you were born. Unfortunately I was too sick. So I was on a lot of medication. There are a few things I remember about that day, but most of my memories are from the day after you were born.
In the recovery room....
The nurse asking for my finger prints to put on your birth certificate. She also showed me your foot prints and I couldn't believe how very tiny they were. And she made the comment "Look Mom these are your daughter's footprints!"
The 2 young girls who were giving me the mesh underwear to put on and they called them a Victoria's Secret special LOL
My mom lifting my hair above my head like she had done for so many years when I lived with her every night when she came home from work.
In the post partum room....
My face itching so badly from the morphine.
Being thirstier than I have ever been before in my life.
Having an orange popsicle and being upset that it wasn't red.
Kim coming to visit me and helping me drink water even though I wasn't supposed to...and then her holding the bucket cause I thought I was going to throw up from drinking the water I wasn't supposed to.
Having conversations and saying things to Matt that made absolutely no sense at all.
Hearing women in the rooms around me celebrating giving birth.
Being moved to the post partum wing in the middle of the night and the woman who transferred us to that room handing me books and videos on how to care for my baby when we got you home. (She wasn't informed of the situation)
Waking up the next morning with gas pains and thinking that it was you moving inside of me and that they figured out a way to keep me pregnant. Then realizing that the last 48 hours were in fact very true and now very real.
Hearing the babies from the nursery being wheeled down the hall to their moms rooms to be fed and waking Matt up telling him that I needed him and telling him that I have never been so sad in my life.
Not wanting to go down to the NICU to see you.
Hating myself for not wanting to go down to see you.
Asking Matt constantly if I was going to be shocked when I finally did agree to go down to see you.
Reading and rereading the rules and guidelines about what hours I was not allowed in the NICU and what I could and couldn't wear in there.
The physician's assistant that came in and basically demanded that I get out of bed to prove I could walk so that I could go down to see you.
That same PA who helped me clean myself up and listened to my complaints about the night nurses from the previous shift and how they wouldn't help me clean myself or get me anything to do it myself.
Thinking that when the time came to come to the NICU to see you after we left the hospital that I would never be able to find my way thru the maze of hallways. (by the time you were discharged I probably could have found my way there blindfolded)
The signs showing us how to scrub above the sinks and the brochures on the rack next to the sink.
The smell of aquaphor being heated by radiant warmers.
How incredibly tiny you were, yet you were perfectly formed.
The bruises that covered your back from your rushed delivery.
The incredible number of tubes that were sticking out of every possible place in your tiny body.
Mary (the nurse who did your intake) telling me that she would open the cellophane so that I could touch you.
Telling Mary that I didn't want to disturb you. When in actuality I didn't want to touch you because I was so very afraid to become attached to a child that could quite possibly die.
The number of people that came to visit both of us in the hospital and every single one of them were taken to the NICU to see you. Daddy was terrified, but so damn proud of you.
The only person who gave me a balloon congratulating me on having a daughter was Auntie Gina. Everyone else brought flowers....and loads of them.
The doctor from Nigeria that told me I should be thankful that you were born in the United Stated cause in her country you would not have survived, as she removed the staples from my incision.
Leaving the hospital in a wheelchair without what I came in with.
Getting home and finding all of the clothes and things that I had gotten for you so far put away so as not to upset me.
Driving to the hospital for 106 days, some days more than once to visit you.
Getting to the parking garage and not being able to find a spot fast enough so that I could get to you quicker.
The smell of the stairwell between the garage and the hospital. When I go now to visit someone there, the smell still knocks me on my ass and puts me back to that time.