PICU – Day two -Holding Hands.

Myself and Emmanuel Arrived at the PICU early. We were told that everything with Zach looked good overnight. Nothing unexpected had happened. It was so reassuring to hear that. I really felt like we were through the hardest parts. It was just a case of time now.

I remember feeling that I didn’t know how to be. The PICU was new to us. I was used to my own space with my bags and snacks around me. In the intensive care unit the level of cleanliness was high. They was nothing there except the patient and all the machines. It was empty so that it could easily be kept clean. Of course, for good reason. Most children there had a lot of tubes going in and out of the body. Zach had drains and his ventilator as well as the central and ‘art lines’. All infection risks. It made perfect sense. I didn’t know where his nappies were. Or what I was allowed to touch. So, I sat still on my chair with a few bits next to me. My breast pump, a bottle of water and my phone. I wasn’t sure how close I could get, if I was in the way or not. I was like an awkward odd button that had been sewn on when the original had fallen off. Myself and Emmanuel sat quietly together by Zach’s bedside, both feeling like odd buttons. We messaged our families to let them know Zach had done well over night. Then we just sat some more. There really wasn’t much to do but sit and wait around.

Emmanuel had a DJ job that night, so he left in the afternoon to go back home in order to get his equipment ready. So I stayed by Zach’s bedside and held his little hand. I couldn’t think of much else to do but that. I stroked his head and whispered to him that I was there for him. He twitched a little bit as if to say ‘I know mummy.’ He hadn’t changed much from the day before. His drain had stopped producing so much liquid. His urine pot was filling up nicely so his kidneys were clearly fine. He was just doing well. That was it. I longed to hold him again. To let him know that he was safe. To feel his warm little body snuggled into mine. It was possible to hold him with the ventilator in, but moving him with the drains and everything else would probably have been painful for him. So, I sat and stayed nearby. 

The nurse who was with us that day started to chatting with me about lots of different things. What job I do. What job Emmanuel does. Where did we live. All of the normal small talk type questions. I found myself in a conversation that was getting me through the minutes. The walls of the ward that had already started to close in were now backing off. The beeping of the monitors that starts to scratch at your brain had eased. Another nurse who was with another little baby in the opposite bay started talking with us as well. Soon we were in a full-blown chat about hen parties, wedding dresses and the TV program ‘Say Yes To The Dress.’ Before I knew it two hours had passed.

I am sure that nurses are trained to do this. Every nurse I met had a way to take my mind off things or supported me when I most needed it. I am sure that they were looking after me just as much as Zach. Those conversations about normal things kept my mind from drifting away into dark places. When I was sat watching Zach take each breath after another and silently praying for him to just take the next one, just keep going. A chat about a hen party takes you away for a few moments. It lifts you into something that resembles your old self again. Making you whole again. Giving you strength. That day I sat by Zach’s side for fourteen hours. The Nurse that switched over on shift change, kindly suggested that I might need to get some sleep. The senior nurse came over and had a chat with me that evening as well. I am sure she was told ‘you better check on that mum, she hasn’t moved in hours.’ Like a little whisper. We have a code purple. The mum wont leave!! I just didn’t want Zach to feel alone. Maybe I felt alone without him. We had just spent nine months together, for us to be apart was unnatural.

I read him the first few pages of the ‘Velveteen Rabbit’ before I left for the evening. I also gave him a fabric square that smelt of me. When I was pregnant, we had attended a class for parents who were going to have a baby that would be staying in hospital. In that class they gave us all a knitted square to take home so that when we were in hospital we could leave it with each of our children, post-surgery, and they would have our smell when we weren’t there. It was brilliant. I had knitted squares, cloths and blankets that I would rotate. This little square smelt of me. I had been wearing it in my bra all day. I placed it by Zach’s head, so he could easily catch a familiar scent. I tucked a freshly washed one underneath him so that when I needed to express milk away from him I had something that smelt of him. I started to do the same with blankets, I would sleep with one in my bed and bring it to him the next day. I have no idea if it worked but it made me feel like I was doing something at least. I kissed his head gently without disturbing him too much and left.

I cried the whole walk back to Ronald McDonald House. I was lonely by myself. I hate not having Emmanuel around me, I always miss him. This was just awful. I was alone. He was alone. Zach was alone. I made it past reception with my head down, hiding my red face and scurried to our room. I sat on the end of the bed and howled. Big screams, along with streams of tears, and got it all out. I needed to release it all and I did. I had some food and a shower and managed to express breast milk again before laying down to sleep. I had my alarm set for 3am (to express) and 6am ready to go back again in the morning. Tomorrow was a big day; he would be having his drains and ventilator out hopefully, I had to be there with him. It was hard closing my eyes that night, but soon exhaustion took over and I finally allowed sleep to take me.

HDU and Breastfeeding

This was it, the moment I was waiting for. Zach was three days old and my milk was starting to appear. A small screen was placed around a chair area next to Zach’s cot. With the help of nurse Emma, Zach was lifted out of his cot and placed on me and a giant pillow. I put him to my breast and he started to latch and suck quite easily. This is it! I thought we are doing it! Then He pulled away and started to scream. I mean really scream like there was poison coming out or something. I rocked him and soothed him and tried again. The same thing happened. He started ok and then he pulled away and screamed. The nurse came back over to see how it was going. She could clearly hear him screaming. I showed her what he was doing and she sat down beside me to help.

“Let’s calm him down and get him nice and relaxed. An angry baby won’t latch.” She informed me.

So I rocked him and patted him until he was calm again. We tried again, but he just yelled at me. He got so upset that red patches appeared across his whole body.

“Maybe he can’t get any out. Let’s express a little first and see if that helps.” Emma suggested. She disappeared off and came back with the hospital breast pump machine and the attachments. The machine was on wheels and reached around a meter tall. She opened two packets of sterile equipment and handed them to me.

She explained how the plastic tube section can’t get wet. If it does the suction would stop working, but the rest can be sterilised. She showed me the suction part of the equipment and gave me a sterilising bag that goes into the microwave with some water in it to be able to steam sterilise it. I had no idea how any of this worked! It was staring at some very strange objects. She sat with me and explained how to connect it all and how to use the machine. I didn’t get much out at first but it was a start. The start of a very long expressing relationship.

I tried Zach on my breast again and he latched for a short period but still wasn’t happy. Emma said she would arrange for a lactation consultant to come over and help me later. I was so thankful that I had all of these professionals around me to help me. I let Zach rest. We would try again later that day.

In the early evening, myself and my mum went over to see Zach and to try breastfeeding again. This was the experience I will never forget. I had the small screen offered to me again, but I wasn’t fussed and it took a while to set it up. We didn’t bother in the end. My mum sat with me, the lactation consultant appeared, Emma was there and so was another nurse. I had an army and we were ready to do this.

Zach was placed on me and our giant cushion. I unhooked my bra and placed him on me just as I had done before. His suck reflex kicked in and he started to suck, but not for long. He started to cry just as he had before. The lactation consultant stepped in to assess his suck. She put a glove on her hand and her finger in his mouth. Zach sucked on her finger reflexively.

“He has a slight tongue tie but he should be ok.” She informed me. I took her word on it and didn’t think much of it.

“Let’s try this” and she gave me lots of things to try. A sandwich hold for my breast. A ‘rugby hold’ for Zach. Expressing a bit of milk first. Many, many things, but Zach just screamed. We had to stop after a while as he was so worked up. I felt deflated. I so badly wanted him to be able to feed that I felt I was failing him already.

We tried one last time before the lactation consultant left. We got everything in position and then she very quickly grabbed me and Zach and pushed his head onto me so fast Zach had no option but to latch and suck and he did. He was finally feeding. I was so happy. What I didn’t know at the time was that forceful action that she had just performed would only have very short-lived success. Zach was feeding, for now. Every time I fed him, I now copied what she had done, as soon as his mouth was open, I quickly shoved his head on my breast. I would later learn that this just isn’t best practise.