Humbled.

A few days after Wes was born but before we were released from the hospital, his bilirubin numbers started to climb.  Bilirubin is what they test for levels of jaundice in his system.  High numbers = not good.  Upon release on Saturday, they asked us to come back on Sunday.  That test showed that he went from a 227 to a 255.

260 is where they start to worry.

So there was no surprise when they asked us to return the following day, Monday, for another test.  297.  297 and re-admittance to the hospital for some phototherapy.  I was devastated.  I was aware that there was very little to worry about with jaundice, but try telling that to a seriously hormonal new mom who had yet to spend more than two nights at home with her baby.

The plan was to give him high intensity light therapy for 12 hours and retest. The therapy was to take place in the NICU – the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

We were rushed over to be able to start as soon as possible and he was set up with a ‘biliblanket’.  Much to my surprise and delight, he wasn’t going to be laying in an incubator under a bright light.  Bright light, yes, but it was in a little pad under him, which meant that I could hold him as much as I wanted to.  I won’t lie, I barely put him down.

The good news continued.  The NICU has a couple of family rooms that weren’t being used that day.  Parents are asked to leave at shift change for confidentiality reasons, and I was brought to one of the rooms.  20 minutes later our new nurse, Christine, knocked on the door and opened it with Wes in her arms.  She didn’t see any reason that we couldn’t just hang out in there where we could be more comfortable instead of in a chair in the middle of the ward.  I felt so lucky.

The bilirubin after 8 hours of therapy went from 297 to 284.  I bawled.  I had expected it to drop significantly and it didn’t.  I just wanted to be able to go home in the morning and at that point it was unlikely.

Christine surprised us again when she pulled out the couch in the family room, made the bed and forcefully took Wes from me so I could sleep.  SLEEP.  Precious sleep.

The morning bilirubin had plummeted to 241 – under the worry line!  The pediatrician was happy with that result, but wanted Wes to move to low intensity light therapy (sadly, in an incubator) until 5 pm and based on the result of that test, we would likely get to go home.

And we did.  We got a 206.  We were safe and were released with an appointment to come back to the hospital on Wednesday for another follow-up.  And all was well.  He was exactly one week old when we were finally released for good.  No more follow-ups, no more worries.

I decided to write this to update some family who were waiting to hear what was going on.  Jaundice is far from scary.  Had the numbers continued to go up, we just would have had a longer stay and more light therapy.  But it was still upsetting.  I am a second-time mama, but I am also a new mama.  Being re-admitted after only a few days at home with my new babe was hard. More nights away from Jaia was hard.  I wasn’t expecting it – but more, I wasn’t expecting this experience to open my eyes as much as it did and teach me something I couldn’t have learned elsewhere.

The time I spent in the NICU was wonderful and yet so sad.  I came to truly appreciate the health of my children, that I was able to carry them both to term, but most importantly, that there are people in this world who grow up wanting to help the tiny babies in the NICU, like the nurses I met during our brief stay.  As I stood by my healthy 8 pound baby, feeling worried about his bilirubin levels, we were surrounded by the tiniest babies I have ever seen.  1 or 2 pounds at most.  A couple couldn’t breathe on their own. One little girl, who they had dubbed the grandmother of the ward, had already been there for 120 days but would have only been 42 weeks, had her mama still been pregnant.

We were only there for 36 hours and I ached to go home.  I can’t imagine having to leave your baby there for months at a time and only be able to visit for one or two hours a day and then go home again, empty-armed, wishing your baby was healthy enough to go with you…and it might be months before that is actually possible.

The nurses that took care of us during our ‘crisis’ also take care of these tiny people everyday – and their terrified, worried parents. I was so humbled by the sweetness, the strength and the courage they showed us and everyone who walked in there.  It has to be the hardest job in the world.  One of the gals I talked with surprised me and said that there was no other job that she would rather do.  It was the NICU or nothing.  She also told me that most days are actually pretty happy.  And I imagine they are.  But some days are not.  And for being the people they are and helping the rest of us through the bad days, I am so very thankful for them.