NICU

I wish I could tell you details about Zander's stay in NICU. I really wish I could. I can't though, as I can't remember a thing. I don't know how much I honestly slept for that week, but I was living my entire life for those half hour feedings we gave him.

After he was born, the nurses informed me that his bilirubin levels were far above the 95% percentile. He was already on his way to brain damage and he was only 12 hours old. They told me that my blood type was attacking his. Naturally, I panicked. I didn't understand what that meant, I only understood that he was sick and they were taking him away from me.

I spent alot of time crying at first, feeling as though this were somehow my fault. It was my blood doing it to him, I thought. Maybe it wasn't even the blood. Maybe it was karma for enjoying my delivery so much. Maybe it was karma for getting the epidural. For not breastfeeding right away. I found every single reason to blame myself that I could.

We went to visit him constantly, wearing ourselves out past the point of exhaustion. Our insurance didn't cover more than two days in the hospital, so we ended up driving around town in between feedings. It was the only way we could stay close to the hospital.

I don't like to think of the bad parts though, I like to remember the feeling I had when I finally carried him out of the hospital. I like to remember what it was like to know that I would be able to hold him whenever I felt like it. Best of all, I like to remember saying to curious onlookers, " This is my son."