The day before my c section my husband and I visited the reproductive psychiatrist I had been seeing since my 20-week ultrasound. She asked what my biggest fear was about my delivery and I told her that I thought our baby would be taken away from us. She asked what percentage I believed in that thought. My mind told me 100% but I told her 85% because I didn’t want to seem crazy. I left the appointment knowing my thought would be coming true within the next couple days. That night before my scheduled c-section, I don’t think I slept more than an hour. I was terrified to give birth. I wasn’t scared of the c-section itself but what was coming. I didn’t feel strong enough for it. My mind knew something traumatic was around the corner. I would have kept her inside me for another year if I could have. The moment of her birth I felt a huge sense of relief shockingly. She was here. We would finally have answers if she had cystic fibrosis or not. If she had a bowel blockage or didn’t. She was perfect with wisps of blond hair. My mini me was here! Our connection was instant and breastfeeding was a breeze. I will always try to cling to those first 24 hours of her life where I blissfully thought “maybe I was wrong and she is fine, maybe it was all in my head.” The joy was short lived. After 24 hours she had not pooped. The doctors were not overly concerned. Some babies take longer than 24 hours to poop but with our status as cystic fibrosis carriers they were more inclined to worry. Claire was sent to the nursery, a step down from the NICU, so that the nurses could try some non-invasive measures to try to get her to poop like a suppository and baby enema. Nothing worked and she was transferred to the NICU within the hospital. I knew then things were going downhill and fast. The lead NICU doctor came to our room and told us he believed there was a chance she had a bowel blockage and he wanted to transfer her to CHOC, our local children’s hospital. We quickly agreed and he informed us a transport team would be coming from CHOC to get her.
Claire was still in the NICU in the hospital so they said they would bring her up to say goodbye. The moment the transport team arrived my heart sank. My baby was in an isolette by herself heading into an ambulance. The transport team gave me a cloth doll to put in my shirt so that they could give it to her to have my scent on it. I tucked it in my shirt and started hysterically crying. The transport team made it all real. This was happening my baby was being taken away just as I had predicted. I felt weak in my knees. The nurses started me on sedatives to calm me down, but it didn’t help. My husband left with the ambulance and I was left alone in the hospital with my mom. It was a Saturday night. I was only 36 hours post C-section, so I was supposed to be released the following day, but I demanded the nurses call my doctor and get me an early release. There was no way I was staying in my hospital room alone while my baby went to another hospital. My doctor agreed and the nurses hurried to get me unhooked from all my machines and discharged. The drive to CHOC was a blur. We arrived and we had no idea where to go. When we got to the lobby, they told me I had to go to the NICU by myself. Because my mom couldn’t come with me, I made my way to the elevators and up to the 4th floor, alone and terrified. I don’t remember physically getting into the NICU. The details are fuzzy, but my husband was meeting with the lead NICU doctor on duty and a surgeon when I walked into Claire’s room. The room was dark only lit by the streetlights outside and the machines in the room. I remember trying to listen to everything the doctors said but feeling so out of it from the drugs and shock of everything. That night my husband and I slept in her room. 36 hours post C-section and I was sleeping in a chair bedside to Claire’s isolette. The NICU was about to be our home for 68 days.