Friday, January 14, 2011

Baby Zen

I have made a point since starting this blog to protect the identity and particular details about my kids. Less because I am fearful of the internet, but more because I believe in letting my children’s lives and journey through it be their own; to be told in their own time and to the degree to which they choose to share with the world. Because of this I have also chosen to not share pictures of my kids. However today I am breaking my own rule and sharing the following picture with you and my hearts story that goes with it. I hope my little Zen will someday read this and not feel intruded upon but relish in the beauty of it.

Born at 31 weeks our little Zen was 4 days old and weighed just 3lbs 6oz the first time I was able to hold her. Prior to this I had only been able to place my hands gently on her. No rubbing. No patting. No stimulation. Plastic separated us. I could only slide my hands through holes in her isolate. No kisses. No gentle whispers letting her know I was there with her.  My body actually ached for her. I felt like I couldn’t really breath yet, everything in me was tight and anxious. I had enough drugs in me to put a horse down and I still was unable to sleep. I needed to hold her. I needed her to know I was there with her. I wanted her to smell me and feel me. I believed in the healing power of my touch, yet I was told no, to stay back, to touch “just a little”. Everything about the first few days felt so very wrong. I had no control, no ability to help my tiny, frail hurting little baby. I had to trust people I didn’t know, or in some cases even like very much. I pumped. I pumped milk like Zens life depended on it. It was all I could offer. I filled the NICU freezer and had to have the hubs take a cooler full home. I kept pumping, I was pumping hourly. The nurses clearly thought I was insane. They brought lactation in to encourage me to ease up but I was compulsive. No one got it; it was all I could do. I could do nothing else for her. I was unable to keep her safe in me and now she was here in this harsh sterile environment separate from my body and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even kiss her. She was buried under wires, tubes and gauze. Her eyes were covered, she had a c-pap on which covered the entire lower half of her face. I wasn’t even sure what she really looked like, but I knew she was beautiful.  And I knew she needed me to hold her close. But it was possible I needed it more.

We started the process of bringing out some of her lines and c-pap around 9pm, I waited up all night for the green light which came at 5am the next morning. The moment I pulled her into me time stopped. Right then, time stood still. The loud, buzzing NICU went silent; all I could hear was the sound of the two of us breathing. I could feel her little body relax and I, for the first time in months, took a deep breath. I felt a little light headed, euphoric. My milk was gushing out of me and I suddenly knew what “Heaven On Earth” really meant. It was a perfect moment, one of healing and love…and faith.

Holding Baby Zen for the first time

1 comment:

Angie said...

Beautiful!! Your explaination brought back many of my own memories but your words are much better than mine were or are, for that matter. It's amazing how these experiences change us forever and no one else can truly "get it". Cherish every flies! My mircle baby is 9 already and it's hard to believe it's been that long since all the agony, it's like a scar that never quite heels.

hit counter
Get a hit counter here.