We had hoped that at 37 weeks (technically full term), Ruby would escape any complications associated with prematurity that might require time in the NICU. But although prematurity was never a problem, other concerns sent her there before I even made it out of surgery. Initially, we were told that low blood pressure and tachycardia required closer monitoring. The tachycardic spell, however, was brief and not recurrent, and her blood pressure rose and stabilized within the first twelve hours, which left us wondering why she needed to remain in the NICU, anchored to multiple monitors and six floors away from my post-partum room. But each time a new doc made rounds, we seemed to get a different story.
One cited evidence of possible infection, requiring treatment while we awaited the 48 hour results of blood cultures (ultimately these confirmed no infection); another feared her low blood volume would not be replenished sufficiently without IV fluid boluses until my milk came in; and another explained that she was anemic – her red blood cell counts/hematocrit levels lower than they should be. Although we appreciated the NICU physicians and nurses clear dedication to their charges, the lack of consistency in care was incredibly frustrating.
Coordination of my care and Ruby’s was equally frustrating. My room and postpartum care was provided on the eighth floor of the hospital, while Ruby remained in the NICU on the second floor, which made for much trekking for me in the wake of major surgery. I needed to be in the NICU to hold and nurse my baby, needed to be in my own room to eat, sleep, and allow the nurses assigned to me to assess my condition regularly. I also needed to fit in pumping after every nursing session in an effort to encourage my milk to come in sooner and assuage the doctor’s concerns about Ruby’s fluid levels. And I needed to find time to spend with Violet, who found herself without both her mama and dada for the very first time.
We couldn’t have managed it all without our family – specifically, without Violet and Ruby’s grandparents, who worked with us to ensure both of our girls were tended to around the clock. Eric stayed with Ruby all night each night; thankfully the nurses found him recliner after he spent the entire first night sitting on a stool. During the day, Ruby’s grandparents (all four of them) took turns spending hours rocking her, giving Eric an opportunity to get home to shower and take care of things there – particularly pets. I was with Ruby day and night, and grateful for Eric and our parents’ presence whenever I needed to return to the eighth floor for my own care.
Violet continued to spend her days at Shana’s; every night, Eric picked her up and brought her and her grandparents to the hospital. While grandma and grandpa snuggled Ruby, Eric and I got to spend a couple hours sharing dinner (and wheelchair rides!) with her big sister. NICU policy excluded all children under 18, so Violet wasn’t able to visit Ruby, or even to see her, as long as we remained in the hospital. Each evening, as bedtime approached, we returned to Ruby and sent Violet home with her grandparents again. Having never spent a night away from Violet until the night Ruby was born, saying goodbye in the NICU waiting area was heartwrenching every time.
Eventually, we understood the NICU physician’s consensus to be that Ruby had lost a significant amount of blood during the delivery (i.e., not enough blood had made it from the placenta into her body before the cord was cut); that blood loss led to low blood pressure and ultimately anemia. Her hematocrit levels were watched carefully, and at each check we held our breath, hoping to avoid a transfusion. After four days that felt like four weeks, Ruby was finally cleared for discharge: we were coming home.
We spent our last night at St. Luke’s officially rooming in with Ruby, and counting the minutes until we’d be with both of our girls. A few hours before we were released, we heard from Violet’s grandparents – Violet had awoken early that morning vomiting; after two and a half years, she’d finally come down with her first stomach virus. (Incredible timing, eh?) Fortunately, aside from brief bouts of nausea/vomiting, Violet was in good spirits, fever free, and looking forward to meeting her little sister.
Shortly after noon, we left the NICU for the last time and brought baby Ruby home. I don’t remember having cried at all in the hours preceding Ruby’s birth, or any of the days after, until we pulled up in front of our house and I waited for Eric to come around from his side of the car with Ruby. It was a relief to have the entire ordeal behind us, but even more, it was just so overwhelming to finally have our whole family together. Though we’d seen her every day, we had missed Violet so very much.
Of course we hoped Violet would be happy about meeting her baby sister. She’d been excited about her status as a big sister throughout my pregnancy, and liked to to talk to and about Ruby before she was born. She had friends with baby siblings, and she fawned over them all. But all of those things are fairly abstract compared to a real live baby sharing your home, your life, and your parents, so we weren’t sure what to expect when we walked through the door that Sunday afternoon. We needn’t have worried.
It was love at first sight. As soon as she saw Ruby, Violet exclaimed, “It’s my sister! I got my sister!” We couldn’t get Ruby out of her carseat and into Violet’s lap quickly enough. Violet held Ruby, kissed her, and whispered sweetly to her; she marveled at Ruby’s fingers and her little nose, giggling at how tiny she was. From those first moments, Violet has been so gentle, so loving, so nurturing with her sister. It’s such an incredibly touching thing to witness, and of course even more so as her parents. While I’m sure we have many episodes of less sisterly moments ahead of us, that afternoon was all tenderness and togetherness (also Violet threw up on me, but that’s another story). Our family of four was finally home.
Introducing Ruby
Love at First Sight