Updated: March 11, 2017
Originally Published: November 12, 2014
As my husband and I leaned against the hospital bed, hands entwined and bags packed, the pediatrician entered with a serious expression. Our hearts sank as she delivered the news: “Your daughter started having seizures during her examination. We need to admit her to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.” Panic surged through me; I squeezed my husband’s hand tightly. This wasn’t how our journey was supposed to begin. We had dressed our little girl in her special outfit, ready to embark on our new life as parents.
“Is she going to be okay?” I managed to ask as the doctor explained further. “We’re running tests to determine the cause. Have you noticed anything unusual?” My mind raced back over the past few days. Our daughter had made her entrance into the world at thirty-six weeks, with the cord wrapped around her neck. Though she had been quickly resuscitated, I remembered her jerking arm—something I had mentioned to a nurse, who assured me it was nothing.
The doctor’s expression grew more serious. “That might have been another seizure. We need to find out why.” Instead of heading home with our newborn, we spent the day navigating the NICU protocols, watching as tests like MRIs and CT scans were performed on our daughter. Helpless, we stood behind glass, our minds filled with worry.
The reality of our situation hit hard: our baby was having recurring seizures, and we were left in the dark about her condition. We felt we had left our hearts in that NICU. Unable to stay in the hospital, we checked into a nearby hotel, grappling with a loneliness and despair we were unprepared for. I curled up in the hotel bed, feeling a profound ache in my chest—my baby was no longer inside me, nor could I hold her in my arms.
After additional testing, doctors concluded that our daughter had suffered a stroke, likely either in utero or during birth, which explained her premature arrival and the seizures. However, the cause of the stroke remained a mystery. As I sat among the medical equipment in the NICU the next day, I felt overwhelmed by the gravity of it all.
I saw other babies, some smaller and more fragile than my daughter, and it filled me with both terror and guilt. While my baby had a stroke, she seemed healthier than many others in the room. How long would they stay here? What futures awaited them? Those feelings motivated us to return to the hotel for brief rests before heading back to the hospital every three hours to nurse and comfort our little girl. Our new parent exhaustion was unlike anything we had anticipated—silent drives in the middle of the night filled with uncertainty and hope.
On the third day, we received some good news: our daughter was stable, with no new symptoms or seizures. The doctors believed a blood clot was the cause of the stroke, and we began to breathe easier. There was still uncertainty, but we could finally imagine a future where we could take our baby home.
On a clear and sunny morning, we placed our daughter in her car seat, the click signaling a wave of relief. We had triumphed over our initial fears and were ready to embrace our new life as a family.
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In summary, our NICU experience was a rollercoaster of emotions, from fear and guilt to relief and joy. Despite the challenges, we emerged stronger and ready to embrace our new life as a family.