I’m not even sure where to begin with all this but I’d like to try and get it all down before it starts to fade. These past few days have been a blur, days and nights have melted together and everything still doesn’t feel quite real.
That Titus has been in the NICU has definitely contributed to that feeling. I had a baby, but I don’t have a baby with me. I had a baby, but I’m not caring for a baby. I visit a baby in the NICU and the nurses tell me how he’s doing and I delight over details like knowing he took his whole feed by ni.pple but I wasn’t there to see it. I ask the nurse if it’s okay to hold my baby and they set him up and hand him to me and I hold him and I don’t want to let him go but I have to go pump so I reluctantly give him back and they tuck him back into his isolette while he whimpers and cries at being disturbed and then I shuffle back to my room with no baby.
All things indicate that T is a strong, healthy baby, what’s wrong with him is from being inside me, exposed to my medication. Or possibly, exposed to my stupid antibodies, but the consensus is that it’s most likely my meds. They think it should clear up as the drugs leave his body but in the meantime it seems his bone marrow is being suppressed leaving his platelets and WBC dangerously low. This morning they said it seems like he might have an infection because they started having to give him some air and heating his isolette. They had to prick his feet again and they wouldn’t stop bleeding because of his low platelets.
I can’t even think about this without crying. Everything that’s wrong with my baby is my fault. I’m the reason he keeps having to get his poor little feet pricked and all these tests done and why his daddy can’t hold him (Paul is sick and with his WBC so low they don’t want him near anyone who’s remotely sick). I’m supposed to protect him and yet my baby is suffering because of me.