The first 10 days of fatherhood were nothing like I had imagined. In my head I had it pretty well planned out, I thought we might be in hospital for a day or two then be able to go home and settle but it would take just under two weeks for us to leave.
After my daughter (Rose) was born and Lotty had fully woken up from her emergency C-Section we were taken down to the baby ward. A room full of new parents and babies, I hated it. Lotty was the only mum who’d had a C-Section in the room so she required more care, she couldn’t sit up or move around unaided. On a few occasions it took over 15 minutes to get a nurses attention for assistance, this is why I near refused the leave. Once the head midwife found out why I was near begging to stay, she looked at Lotty’s notes and reassured me it was fine, she then took us to a private room. It turns out we never should have been in that ward, it was for short recovery stays only.
Having our own room as great, of course its not a 5 star hotel but it provided bit of quiet and privacy which compared to the other ward was perfect. After one night, our joy turned to worry, which turned to dread. After some tests rose’s health was deteriorating and fast.
A few hours later we were told Rose required urgent care. She needed to go into the Baby intensive care unit. We followed them to the ward and walked in to a room like nothing I had ever seen. Lotty couldn’t face it and had to leave, she was mentally exhasted as it was, and this was the tipping point. After calming Lotty down I told her I would stay with rose and she should go and get some rest. I helped her back down to her room and told her to get some sleep, I then went back up to the ICU, washed my hands and sat next to Rose whilst the nurses put her in an incubator.
Rose needed to have a transfusion and monitoring but ultimately she was one of the healthiest babies there. I looked around the room, some of these poor babies didn’t even look human. Some in incubators under bright blue and purple fluorescent lights with tubes keeping them alive, some so tiny they could fit in your hand. The looks on other parents faces were empty and the only thing keeping most going was hope.
I remember feeling awful when Rose cried one day as she was the only baby who could. Another mum looked over at me and half smiled, she told me she hadn’t even heard her Son cry yet. I didn’t know how to respond, I just said “I’m sorry”. She then asked me how old Rose was and what was wrong with her, she seemed like a very caring woman, her voice was soft but hurt. I could tell she hadn’t slept for days, the look in her eyes was near empty.
I was the only parent who stayed in the intensive care ward over night. Lotty had gone home to try to get a proper nights sleep and I didn’t and couldn’t sleep knowing Rose was alone. The most painful memory was seeing her crying in her incubator, she was trying to reach for someone but I wasn’t allowed to cuddle her. I would put my fingers through the holes and stroke her tiny hands but every instinct was telling me to pick her up and I couldn’t.
The following night was uncomfortable, I was sitting on a plastic chair in-between different machines. The sound of that ward was unforgettable. “Beep Beep Beep………. Buzz……… Beep Beep”.. constantly. I couldn’t understand how somewhere could be so loud but and the same time silent. It took weeks to get some of those sounds out of my head, but it shows to me how amazing the nurses and doctors are who work under those conditions and save lives.
After a few days Rose was well enough to leave ICU and we returned down to our room. Over the next week Rose would continue to improve and Lotty would slowly start to recover but she still struggled to move. Rose needed 2-3 blood tests per day, she was covered in small bruises and tiny plasters and she would scream every time. I felt her pain, every time the needle would go into her poor soft skin, it felt like I was being stabbed. I went to every blood test apart from the final one, I physically couldn’t do it any more and the nurses could see it. I felt awful letting them take Rose but I just couldn’t see her in pain anymore.
After 10 days we finally were told we could return home. We were over the moon, we hadn’t even had a chance to wash Rose yet. This made Lotty very upset as all her motherly instincts needed to clean her child and up until this point she hadn’t been able to.
We packed our bags and got Rose ready, and after around 6 hours we were given the okay to be discharged.
We walked into Lotty’s room at her parents house, the silence was overwhelming. No beeping, no footsteps outside, no crying (yet). This was it, this was the start of our journey.
What followed would be the struggles of raising a baby living with parents/ In-Laws which I will discuss in my next blog.
Reflection-
As I wrote this I realised something, this was the first time I had made myself remember those painful first days. I haven’t talked to anyone about some of what happened and I think has helped me. I was recently told I showed symptoms of PTSD stemming from the birth of my daughter which sounds pretty ridiculous but writing this has been therapeutic.
I will say although under my perspective the time spent in hospital was awful, I know how incredibly lucky I am. Rose was one of the lucky babies and I am thankful everyday for the care of all the doctors and nurses and forever humble by my experiences.
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