There’s light at the end of the incubator

Tanya Bowes Monday 24 October 2011 6:13pm

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Sophie was born at just 27 weeks

Glancing from my husband, to the doctor and the stenographer, all I could think was, “Babies aren’t supposed to come this early – I haven’t even read the birth chapter!”, and in an instant there came that sickening, sinking feeling.  I was 27 weeks pregnant and having an ultrasound after waking up that morning and feeling something wasn’t quite right.  I was in labour and it was terrifying.

Five long days later, after moving to a different hospital with special care for very early and sick babies (during which time the doctors didn’t know whether I would hold on for 10 weeks or 10 hours) Sophie arrived.  She weighed 1.3kgs – not much more than a bag of sugar – and was 34 cms long.

The days after Sophie was born I would like to say are a blur, but they are as real today as they were then.  A frightening ordeal of not knowing what is going to happen, of trying to stay positive.  I was in a maternity ward without a baby, avoiding eye contact of mums pushing babies proudly around in their little Perspex boxes, and trying not to be seen as I ventured out of my room to get the expressing machine.  I was in complete and utter shock.

Sophie’s early arrival was due to a random, bizarre infection between my uterus and the placenta, and it was lucky she got out when she did.

Sophie in the Newborn Intensive Care Unit

But really, apart from being very early, Sophie had a very smooth journey through the various levels of the Newborn Intensive Care Unit.  Actually that is a very me thing to say – to downplay what happened.  Because no matter how long your baby spends in hospital, any time is too long.  And the day I left her there to go home is indescribable.

Sophie was in hospital for three months.  On CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) she struggled and fought the headgear all the way, and each day spent longer and longer without it, until she was happy breathing on her own.  The caffeine they used to make her breathing more regular was dialled down and finally switched off, and Sophie’s bouts of jaundice seemed to get fewer.  She was just so small.  Because she hadn’t had time to fatten up she was all skin and bones.  Her limbs were long and very pink, and she had lots of that fine hair over her.

Time spent with her was surreal.  I kept focused on my job – expressing every 3 hours (I could have fed Sydney I think!), spending as much time as I could with Sophie – reading to her, changing her nappy and cleaning her face, talking to her, and once or twice a day, holding her for a few minutes (because she needed to conserve all her strength for growing).

Sophie three years later

Every gram of weight she put on was celebrated, every movement, noise.  Mostly she slept and I wanted and waited.  And everyone – friends and family – held their breath, wondering what would become of Sophie.

Three months later Sophie emerged – 2.4kgs and having finally grown into her skin!

But it wasn’t the joyous moment I wanted it to be.  In fact it was just plain scary.  Now it was about caring for Sophie on our own, without the nursing staff and the machines to tell you if she was getting enough oxygen or breathing properly.  It was also about making sure she didn’t get sick – in winter.

While there’s more to the home story, it gradually got easier.  Sophie stacked the weight on  and although she was about 3 months behind the babies in my mother’s group, by the time she was 2 she had caught up entirely.

And although I had kept a brave face on for much of this early time, it was the most terrifying time of my life and has changed me forever.  In a good way.

Somewhere to turn to when you don’t think you need it – or you know you do

Sophie now

Just recently I stumbled across Life’s Little Treasures – an organisation that’s based out of Melbourne but supporting families with premature babies in many States.  Their Facebook site contained questions from parents of premmie bubs, asking for reassurance and information on a multitude of issues from feeding, giving medicine, avoiding health problems, development and more.  The responses from other mums were like a huge virtual huge and the support was overwhelming.  I checked out their website and found more – including a fantastic resource giving advice on do’s and don’ts for people whose friend or relative has just had a prem baby.  Things like Do congratulate the parents on the birth of their baby.  Do offer to keep parents company while they visit their baby.  Don’t say “At least you get a full night’s sleep while the baby is in hospital” and “It must be hard to watch someone else take care of your baby”.  Yes, I’ve heard a few of those.

I then met with Parool Shah who with other mums who had prem babies at the same time, founded Life’s Little Treasures Foundation to provide support and help.  And I wanted to help to.

So I am.  Starting with this article to spread the word about what Life’s Little Treasures does and where you can find them.

I’m also walking and raising funds for them on Sunday 6^th November in Sydney (there are similar walks in Melbourne, Hobart, Adelaide and Perth).

While having Life’s Little Treasures in my life from the early days won’t have changed the time spent in hospital and afterwards worrying about Sophie, I know it would have made it a bit less frightening, and me a bit more supported.  Although I try not to think about those early days, I’ll be spending the time walking the short kms thinking about my little treasure and the blessing she is.  And being eternally grateful that we all survived the journey.