I started leaking amniotic fluid on Monday. I started getting contractions on Tuesday. I went into labor early Wednesday morning. My baby was born on Thursday and taken to the NICU. On Friday, we learned that he would have to stay on antibiotics until Monday while I was being discharged on Saturday. We had our first night together on Saturday in the pediatrics unit. We decided to supplement with formula in the wee hours of Sunday. We finally got to come home on Monday.

Phew!

In the end, it happened nothing like I’d expected or hoped. But it was the birth that my son needed. And I felt good about every deviation from the plan: getting an epidural, augmenting with pitocin. When I look back, the part that I would change (if I could) was having to wait as long as we did to be with Abhimanyu.

Despite Abhi’s having an Apgar score of 9, they whisked him off to the NICU because he was grunting while he cried. It was likely that there was amniotic fluid in his lungs. They would hook him up to oxygen until his breathing cleared up. It would be anywhere from two to 24 hours before I saw him again. So they’d put him on an IV of sugar water and keep him under a heat lamp. They’d wean him off each thing as appropriate.

I was devastated. Cried the entire way from Labor & Delivery to Mother-Baby. And so, it was a revelation when we received a call from the NICU saying that we could come by and breastfeed. That became the new routine: going to NICU every three hours, scrubbing in, feeding Abhi, getting some skin-to-skin contact. He had been put on precautionary antibiotics for the two days we’d be in the hospital to make sure any potential infection from my water breaking didn’t get passed to him. One of his test results came back higher than the doctor liked, so they extended the treatment to Monday. Which meant two extra days and nights in the hospital for him. Another hit. And in the meantime, as we were in the process of weaning him off the sugar water and exclusively breastfeeding, his blood glucose levels weren’t high enough. Which would extend his stay in the hospital indefinitely.

Thankfully, there was an available room in pediatrics where my husband and I could stay with Abhi as long as he needed to stay. So we got our first full night together on Saturday after I was discharged from Mother-Baby. That was a rough night. In part because babies are hard, but mostly because for all our good intentions and my earnest efforts at breastfeeding, his glucose was persisting at a level too low for the pediatrician’s liking. We were at our wits’ end and decided to supplement with formula. From that point forward, the numbers rose dramatically and we were granted permission (is that the right way of putting it?) to take him home with us on Monday.

So, yeah. Emotional roller coaster. To say the least.

All things considered, it all went down as well as it could have. I’ll leave aside my rant about pregnancy and medicine for another time. Suffice it to say that the medical staff at Advocate Illinois Masonic Medical Center was wonderful. Each of the many nurses and residents we had in Labor & Delivery was supportive and kind. I really felt in good hands. Everyone in Mother-Baby and the NICU was encouraging. It felt like the nurses and lactation consultants were personally invested in our well being. It was the same in Pediatrics. My husband and I made it a point to express our gratitude with thank you cards and donuts for each unit.

It could have been so much worse. Throughout the saga, Abhimanyu was hale and healthy. It was hard to see him in the NICU, certainly. But he was surrounded by infants in far worse condition: several months premature, in need of serious medical attention. Their families not only knew the pain of separation but had added worry over their children’s conditions. Many of them had been visiting regularly for so long that they were more than familiar with all the nurses and doctors. At some point during my stay in Mother-Baby, a social worker came by to tell me about the resources for postpartum depression and to give me a blanket for my baby. At first, I thought this was standard for the hospital. But when I read the attached tag explaining that it was from Camden’s Comfort, I lost it. I felt almost spoiled that our little one was perfectly fine and would be going home with us in a matter of days.

So this Thanksgiving I know very clearly what I am thankful for: my precious baby boy and the fact that he is well and home with us. And my thoughts will be with those who will be spending the holiday apart from their loved ones and for those who will be spending it at a hospital bedside.