Nightmares

I keep sitting down with the intention to write about what happened to Max the day after he was born in detail, but I find I can't do it.  Perhaps not surprisingly, the experience has left me kind of traumatized.  Even just thinking about the events of that day makes me nauseous.  There are moments that relive themselves in my memory all the time. 

• Holding Max in the nursery and him having a seizure and me crying "Help!  Something is wrong!  HELP!"  Then the nurse taking him and watching them pat him on his back and suck the colostrum I'd just gave him out of his tummy.  Then being shooed out of the nursery while my baby is jerking and purple, with them telling me he'll be fine, I can come back in an hour after shift change.  And that long walk back to my room crying and my panicked call to John to come back (I'd sent him home to take a nap) because something scary just happened.
  
• Watching the helicopter touch down outside my hospital room window and worrying that it might be for my baby.  Then seeing them unload an incubator and screaming "THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE MY BABY!" and trying to run out of the room to go to Max while John held me down trying to calm me.  John called the nursery and asked if the helicopter was for Max, and when they said yes, and the pediatrician was coming to talk to us right now, I started grabbing my stuff from around the room and packing it up.  They weren't going to take my baby anywhere without me going too.
  
• Mitzi (Alex and Max's pediatrician) walking into my hospital room red faced and looking very upset.  She was exactly who I wanted to see at that moment (We weren't sure if they'd called Mitzi or the doctor on call.  Thankfully they called Mitzi and she came out immediately).  After she hugged us and told us what had happened, she said "I don't know what is going to happen to him.  I don't know if he'll be ok".  I then told her to go back to the nursery and save my baby.  She went back to the nursery immediately.  Just knowing that she was with Max made me feel better.
  
• We were finally allowed back into the nursery to see Max before they life flighted him to Primary.  He was purple and limp.  He had a tube down his throat helping him breathe, they were trying to get another IV in his little arm.  The Life Flight paramedic picked him up and told me to kiss him goodbye.  Both John and I did, and they put him in the incubator.  We didn't know at that point whether or not we'd ever see our son alive again.  This was the worst moment I've ever experienced in my life.
  
• Watching the helicopter take off with my newborn son in it and feeling intense "Mama bear" feelings.  At that moment I was sure if I'd seen the nurse who had given him the wrong IV bag, I'd have killed her right there on the spot.  This was a terrifying feeling to have.  The feeling left almost as soon as I'd had it and turned into fear for my child's life again and I forgot all about the nurse for days afterwards.  I know she didn't do it on purpose, and I'm not mad at her anymore (I am, however, VERY mad at the hospital, but this is a subject for another post) but in that moment, I hated her with so much intensity, I scared myself.

Once we got to Primary Children's Hospital, talked to his new doctors and were allowed to see him, though I was still scared, I felt that he was in good hands and he'd make it.  He had to.  I tried to spend as much time as I could at his bedside touching him, trying to let him know somehow that I was there and I loved him.  I only left his side to pump. I wanted to make sure that when he was ready to eat, I'd have a good supply for him.  In fact, I'd been such a diligent pumper, my supply was too good by the time he was able to nurse.

In the end, there's a lot to be grateful for.  I'm grateful that both John and I were able to be by Max's side during the entire ordeal.  I'm grateful for our family, friends and neighbors who supported us and sent good thoughts our way constantly.  I'm grateful for the amazing doctors and nurses who saved my son's life.  I'm grateful for my husband, who kept me sane and optimistic and held me and let me cry into his shoulder when I'd loose it in the middle of the night.  I'm grateful for my mother who took wonderful care of Alex and even brought him up almost every day to see me.  I'm grateful for Alex, just thinking about him made me happy and gave me strength.  I'm grateful that my Max is strong enough to make it through such a thing.  I'm grateful that it's over.