Day 11 - Pumping in the NICU/PICU

Ugh pumping. It gets the job done with basically zero positive emotional benefits.

The fact that this was my first baby combined with Jacks complex medical situation, it is a miracle I even pumped and produced any breast milk at all. I had no idea what to expect. I’d talked to some people a little bit but even if someone had told me exactly what it would be like, it would have still been really difficult.

I had an amazing nurse the day I delivered Jack who showed me all the basics. She was incredible all around. But made me feel really comfortable as I learned to pump. I pumped in our room the first few times. I also pumped in the NICU’s pumping room and I cried every time for the first three days (at least). I was just so sad that this was my experience. Sad that it hurt. Sad that I had to leave the area that my baby was in, go to a dingy closet with partition walls and plastic recliners, pump for 20 min, (get basically nothing for the first two to three days) and then clean it all, pack it up, and then go back and see my baby again.

It got better. Like a lot of things. And unlike a lot of other things.

A few things:

- A friend made some bonding squares that you tuck in your bra and give your baby one, tuck behind their head or near their face, and you trade them out everyday. So the baby smells you and you subconsciously smell the baby and it supposedly helps milk production.

- Once I was discharged and we were at home, we had this amazingly comfortable recliner and I pumped in that. It was so great. We also watched the office in the evenings and that made it go by faster.

- I didn’t wake up to pump after the first week or so. We were in such high stress levels all day that I needed the sleep more than the increased milk supply from more frequent pumping. So I’d usually be able to sleep 7ish hours and feel semi rejuvenated.

- Jack only ever got my Breastmilk once, for less than 24 hours via NGT. He didn’t tolerate it. It sucked.

- The decision to stop pumping after Jack had passed away was weird. It was so annoying. But also, it was this small piece of me that still felt connected to him. And it was a tiny physical sign that I did just have a baby. He’s not here in the flesh anymore, but this did happen/he was real.

- I found someone through my OB that needed breast milk (she couldn’t breastfeed or pump because of previous breast cancer) so I kept pumping for a little while. Slowly decreasing down the number of times per day. And I eventually stopped about 8 weeks after Jack passed away.

These decisions are individualized for everyone. Don’t compare yourself to me. Everyone’s journey is different. If I do give you any advice on this topic, it’s be gentle with yourself.

Comments

Day 1 - July 12th

I have desired to write about Jack and our child rearing experiences in general for a while and I frequently push it off and it just simply isn't a "right now" priority. Starting today, on what would have been Jack's 2nd Birthday, I am going to write daily (or try to) for the next 35 days in remembrance of the 35 days he lived on this earth. It will likely be unedited, imperfect, and intentionally raw - partially for the sake of time (I work, do school and we have a toddler in foster care ok?!) and partially because that is the theme of our story, imperfection (made perfect through Christ). Today, I want to talk about birth. More specifically, medically complex birth. I get asked often if I had to have a mandatory c-section - thankfully no I did not. But I also did not expect to go into labor at 35 weeks and 5 days either and I am certain that is the worse option here. We came home from a week at the lake with Ike's family and as we are getting into bed Ike s

Day 2 - The NICU

The NICU is a place you are extremely grateful for but you also dread its existence. You are so thankful that your fragile baby has around the clock expert care but you also hate that your baby has to be there without you. And then when you are there you feel awkward - you’re the mother but his caretaker is the nurse - you have to ask permission or for help to hold the baby (so many lines/drains so it’s not easy to pick them up). It’s also just heartbreaking to see the other babies that have been there for weeks or even months. Jack’s isolette/crib/bed was next to a baby born at 24 weeks (on April 8 actually) and it was July 12… he was still tiny with a young mom who we witnessed have hard conversations about her capacity to care for such a tiny fragile baby. The baby on the other side was born via c section because his organs were on the outside of his belly (omphalocele) and he cried and cried and cried. (We actually had a mom bring a baby with this same diagnosis to our house in Ug

Day 6 - ECMO

After all that surgery talk, this seems like an appropriate time to talk about ECMO. ECMO stands for extracorporal membrane oxygenation - basically an exterior heart and lungs. Only a few hospitals in Virginia have trained teams and adequate machines to run ECMO. We learned a lot about it because there had to be someone in Jacks room 24 hours a day to monitor/run the machine. Like for bathroom breaks or lunch breaks - they had another trained ECMO person come and sit in the room while they took a break. We met almost every ECMO worker (a few didn’t do peds) and we talked with them a ton. They were present for many hard conversations with doctors, surgeons, nurses, chaplains, etc. They did things like get us lunch when the free lunch carts rolled by, bring us honey from home, update us on medical rounds that we missed. They felt like a second family. We wrote down almost all the nurses and ECMO techs Jack had - we wrote down 15 names for ECMO and I know we missed a few (like the night

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