It was Teddy Roosevelt who famously said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” Psychologists estimate that 10% of our daily thoughts are comparisons. I would argue that this number seems a little low when it comes to parents.
When my twin pregnancy ended at 28 weeks with an emergency c-section and my babies were rushed to the NICU, I couldn’t help but compare my expectations and my reality. All of the dreams and plans I had for the birth of my twins were crushed. What I had imagined would never be. And if I’m being honest, in those first few days of NICU life, I had a hard time finding any joy.
I had always planned on having professional maternity pictures taken of my pregnant belly, but I did not. On the day my pictures were to be taken, my babies were already born. They were fighting for their lives, connected to tubes and wires, in the NICU. And while I treasure every picture I have of my little preemies while they were in the NICU, these are certainly not the photos I had in mind.
I had always envisioned that when I went into labor, there would be a comical yet sentimental drive to the hospital, but there was not. I was already in the hospital on my eighth day of bed rest. Magnesium sulfate was pumping through my veins, while monitors continuously recorded two tiny heartbeats. Doctors and nurses did everything they could to stop my babies from coming so early, while also preparing me for the realization that it might not work.
I had always hoped for a festive, celebration of my baby’s birth, but there was none. After eight days of hospital bedrest, one of the baby’s heart rates dropped. It was decided that even though I was only 28 weeks along, the babies would need to be born right away. Preparation for an emergency c-section began. There would be no adherence to a birth plan. There wasn’t time to call family. Even after their birth, there was no lightness. Sure, I was happy my babies were here, but didn’t feel much like celebrating with such an uncertain future. NICU rules restricted who could come and see the babies, so visitors were limited.
I had always imagined holding my babies moments after they were born, but I could not. They were rushed to the NICU as my surgery continued. It would be hours until I got to see them again, once I was out of recovery. I wouldn’t be able to hold them until the next day. It would take several nurses to negotiate all the leads and wires and place one baby at a time into my arms.
For me, life in the NICU wasn’t about comparing my experience to other people, but a comparison of my reality to my expectations. This was not at all the picture I had of how my life as a parent would begin. This was not the pregnancy I wanted, nor the birth story I had envisioned. And letting go of a life imagined is very hard.
But if comparison is the thief of joy, then acceptance is the insurance policy. I will always long for the things that I lost. I will always have regrets about my pregnancy and the birth of my twins. But as I began to accept what was outside of my control, some of the damage was repaired. And I was able to recognize joy in places I never imagined before, like inside the walls of the NICU.
Thank you so much for sharing this! I can relate to so much of what you said. The key is like you said, acceptance.
Agreed! It’s the hardest thing to do, but it does help.
You took the thoughts right out of my head. As a mom just 13 days into our NICU stay, who delivered at 28 weeks after 8 days in the hospital, this is so much of the feelings I’ve had. It’s an undercurrent of sadness. Not for my beautiful daughter or the amazing family we have. But rather for all the things I had imagined I would do during my pregnancy that I have been robbed of. Baby showers, maternity pictures, unflattering maternity clothes, registering for baby needs, waddling with my oversized belly, letting my older children tie my shoes, picking out her name. I never progressed far enough into this pregnancy tondo those things. Sure I will get modified versions of some of them over time, but after 8 years of infertility and 5 angel babies, our rainbow pregnancy was my one last chance at these are moments.
Thanks for saying out loud the things that rattled in my thoughts. There isnt one bit of this that I would give up. I’m eternally grateful for my perfect daughter. But I still grieve for what was lost.
Oh Marie…you are in the thick of it! I’m sorry that your pregnancy was cut short, and I know exactly how you feel. Thank you so much for commenting. And congratulations on your little bundle of joy!
My son was recently born at 33 weeks on January 31, 2020 due to intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR) and low amniotic fluid. I too had imagined carrying to term, having that drive to the hospital with my husband and having a vaginal delivery, skin to skin immediately and be able to breast feed as well. However, things turned when we found out our baby had IUGR and to add to it I got the flu and was admitted for severe dehydration and low amniotic fluid. I was discharged home for 1 week on bedrest and followed up very closely with both my OB and perinatologist. The following Friday my fluid was found low again and my OB wanted to deliver to prevent any emergencies. I had no idea how physically and emotionally hard this process has been.
I was emotionally invested in breast feeding and due to all the stress and possibly other factors my milk never came in fully. I was so angry/frustrated about that I couldn’t even look at my son. I had bought every item to prepare for breast feeding i.e. breast pumps, bras, creams… and I was so mad I wanted to just throw it all away. I am currently pumping only 45 ml/per day if that and 2 weeks post partum. But I have come to terms that this is not going to last forever and plan to pump while my son is in the NICU. And it is going to be ok… my son will be ok on formula and I will be too.
I started to feel distant from my son and questioned “Do I love my son?”. I have been completely transparent with my husband and family about my feelings. These hormones have me all over the place. I get headaches in the afternoons everyday, one minute I feeling sadness the next I feel joy and I am having night sweats. Today is a good day I feel the love for my son so much and it is surreal I made such a beautiful child.
Everyday gets better. There is gradually more tears of joy than sadness/frustration shed per day. My husband and I continue to celebrate is daily successes, but we can’t wait to have our son home soon. We are so grateful he is doing well in the NICU and it just a matter increasing is weight, eating well and ultimately growing. So much love to all NICU Moms! We are stronger now than we knew we could ever be.
Vanessa,
Thank you for sharing. Your bravery is commendable. NICU life is so hard, but I’m glad to hear that each day is getting better. Cling to each other and your support system. Welcome to the NICU Mom’s club!
Thank you for your courage to share. These are feelings I had but never said outloud.
Thanks Amanda! It’s nice to know I am not alone.