We arrived at the hospital on Saturday, nearly two weeks after Clark’s birth, with our overnight bag and a lot of hope. The entire walk from the parking lot to the NICU my stomach was in knots. I was so hopeful that he had remained stable all night, remained completely free of oxygen, stayed in his own little cot, and had kept food down. But I was also terrified; if even one of those factors hadn’t gone perfectly, Clark may be kept in the NICU.
As soon as we walked in, I asked the nurses how he had done. They reported that he had done great overnight and they were very optimistic that the doctor would order him to be moved up and us to room-in overnight. We quickly scrubbed in and hustled to his cot, where he was sleeping so perfectly. I spent a couple of hours rocking and holding him while we waited for the pediatrician to come in for reviews.
When Dr. Michael finally came in, he checked Clark out and reported that he was stable enough to move upstairs to the Maternity Ward. We needed to get our overnight bag, because we were rooming in!
It took a couple of hours to get the whole process completed, but once we were finally settled into our own maternity suite, I sat holding Clark and crying. It was a mixture of sheer joy that I was finally going to spend a whole night with my son and grief over the last two weeks of separation and heartache. I sat in that room, only one room down from where I stayed without Clark, and couldn’t help but feel the pain we had endured. Those first nights in the Ward, when I could hear other babies crying but my room was silent, when I bumped into elated family members of other mothers in the halls, when the aides came in to bathe my baby only to discover he still wasn’t with me…and here I finally was, lying in bed with my baby boy lying on my chest.
That night rooming in with Clark was both a continuation of the exhaustion we had been feeling and the start of a whole new level of fatigue. Just like in hospitals in the States, someone was in our room checking on us every couple of hours all night long. Unfortunately, them coming in didn’t always coincide with when Clark was waking to eat, so sometimes I would only get about 15 minutes of sleep before either the door opened or Clark stirred.
By the next morning we were praying that we could go home. We longed to have Clark with us at home, but we also desperately needed a bit more sleep than we would ever get in the hospital. Thankfully, when Clark’s doctor came in to review him early Sunday afternoon, he had only good news. He congratulated us on surviving the night, commented that Clark was thriving with us, and said we no longer needed to remain at the hospital. We would be taking our baby home that day!
Several hours of payment, paperwork, and packing later, we were carrying Clark out of the hospital, into the chilly, drizzly, Ugandan afternoon, strapping him into the carseat, and heading home. I don’t think we’ve ever driven so slowly or carefully in our lives. When we finally arrived home (thankfully Sunday traffic in Kampala is nonexistent, so the drive home was quick), the Henderson family was at our house waiting to welcome us home as a family. There were photographs, hugs, snuggles with Clark, and goodbyes.
When we were finally alone, Blaise and I looked at each other and expressed our terror at having this tiny, premature baby at home alone with us. It was all we had wanted for nearly two solid weeks, but suddenly it was so scary. We kept asking each other, “Can we do this?” “Why did they let us leave with him?” “What if something happens?” The thing about being discharged with a preemie is that they aren’t kept in the hospital until they are as healthy or strong as a full-term baby; they are kept just until they are healthy enough to go home. There’s a big difference.
Before we had left the hospital, we had a lengthy discussion with Clark’s doctor about things to watch for, what warrants an ER visit, and what warrants a phone call to the doctor. We had to ensure that Clark was getting enough to eat, so I had to supplement each nursing session with expressed breastmilk in a bottle or syringe, we had to monitor him for apnea of prematurity, we had to note any changes in skin color, and if at any point he showed signs of labored breathing or oxygen deprivation, we needed to go immediately to the ER. Additionally, because Clark was still only 36 weeks 5 days gestation at the time we took him home, he was a VERY sleepy baby. He was only awake for minutes a day, which made feeding extremely challenging.
And yet somehow, we survived those first days and weeks. It’s been several weeks now, and while we’re still exhausted beyond belief, frustrated daily by Clark’s colicky crying, and long for a chance to sit down and eat a meal together at the same time, we wouldn’t trade a single minute of this life with Clark for anything. Clark is thriving and he is the biggest joy. Having him in our arms every day will bring healing to us all from the traumatic birth and NICU experience.
Edited to add later: As a couple of months have passed, we have realized just how incredibly blessed we really were. The timing of my prenatal check-up, the skills of the medical professionals, and the speed at which Clark was able to progress and go home are all because of God’s amazing love for us. We are forever thankful for this little boy’s life. However, we also went through a really traumatic ordeal, and the emotional wounds are deep. We are thankful that every day God heals us a bit more, and we pray that someday we’ll be able to comfort others as they walk through similar experiences.
