Dear Tennessee Grace

The last time I remember crying this hard in the shower was week 16 of my pregnancy with you. It is October 16th, week 16 was back in May. May seems like a lifetime ago, but I still remember the pain as vivid as a close-up photograph. Week 16 was the week we were given the news that you may have a condition that may not be compatible with life and terminating my pregnancy was recommended by more than one doctor. For days, I would function during the day as a doggie doctor but at night, I would climb in a warm shower and bawl my eyes out where no one could hear me or see me. It was the place where I would allow myself to mourn the possible thoughts of having to say goodbye to you before even knowing you.

Some days it would be a quick 5-minute cry and other days I would lay on the floor of the shower sobbing pleading to be able to keep you longer. The mere thought of having to say goodbye to you was debilitating… but as the story goes, the screening tests were wrong, and you are the most beautiful blessing in mommy’s life. The pain of those days, however, will be something I will never forget. It’s not something I think about daily and the more days that pass, the memory of that time becomes more faint.

Until days like today hit…..

Daddy and I arrived to the NICU after being gone for two days. Mama survived her first two days at work after being gone for two months! YAY! Seeing my amazing work family was refreshing, I’ve missed them so much but we were ready to snuggle you again! We drove back to Vegas late last night to come see you first thing this morning 🙂 It’s a good morning- delicious frozen coffee on the way, a semi decent parking spot and our hearts full of excitement to see you!

We arrive on the second floor and the hallway lobby is more full than normal. We see a familiar face- the mama of the baby across from you. She stops us and tells us that we won’t be able to go into your pod quite yet because they are doing a procedure on another baby. We thank her for the heads up and sit down beside her to wait. Procedures are common. NICU babies have surgery right in their pods because they can’t be transported. At one point, you were the baby having surgery and other parents were held up from visiting their precious little ones until you were in recovery. It’s like we’ve all taken turns as parents. Were either the parents of babies having procedures or the parents in the hallway waiting to see our children and praying for the other baby who needs surgery or procedures.

We sit with the other mama and have casual conversation. Usually, we’re in our own little areas so short of sharing a smile here and there, we haven’t had a chance to really speak to other mamas. She asked if you were our only baby, and we told her about your sisters. We learned she’s been here since June with her precious baby boy named Parish. I noticed a car seat sitting next to her. I excitedly asked her “I see a car seat!! Are you expecting to go home soon?!”… with exhausted eyes and a big sigh she says “yes, next Tuesday we are hoping. It has been a longggg road for us, he will go home with a gastric tube but he’s doing amazing otherwise.” I can see the hope in her eyes, the light at the end of tunnel type of eyes and I yearn for that. I am so happy for her. Baby Parish has been across from you since we arrived. He is the first one in our pod that we get to witness a hope of going home and my heart is bursting with excitement for him. It’s also my first glimpse of hope as well. Seeing other babies get to go home gives me the energy I need on hard days to focus on the bright exciting future we have with you Tenny girl. 🙂 I am on cloud nine for this mama!

Midway through our casual conversation, I look to my right. About 10 feet away is an exit door from your pod. This door is forbidden by patients or guests- only staff can exit this door. The only time we were allowed to exit this door was after kissing your forehead before you went off to your life saving surgery 6 weeks ago. On that day Dr. Lipski escorted us out this door so she could make sure we sat exactly where she needed us to sit in case we needed to make decisions while you were in surgery.

The door opens and a mommy in a hospital gown being pushed in a wheelchair exits with nursing staff and a daddy following behind. I see mommy carrying a tiny baby in her arms with a tiny beanie on their head. At first glimpse, the only thing that crossed my mind was “How is that tiny baby healthy enough to be leaving the NICU without any IV lines or monitors”. It was odd but I didn’t think anything more of it. I didn’t really notice mama or daddy’s faces, so we continued our casual conversation with Parish’s mommy until a nurse came and told us we were able to come in to see you. It also didn’t dawn on me they had just exited through the “forbidden” staff only door.

We enter the NICU and rush to your bedside so excited to see you! It may sound silly, but you look so much bigger than 2 days ago 🙂 You are sleeping so calmly, your nurse has you bundled up so cute, so we let you continue to sleep for a few moments while we settle in. Nurse Karly comes over and greets us, she’s one of our favorites. “Welcome back guys! I’m not Tennessee’s nurse today, Kathy is, but I’m taking over for a few minutes so let me know if you need anything”. Karly always has a sweet and calm, soothing voice. (I learned a few moments later just how amazing she is for keeping her composure this morning). A few moments later Kathy comes over, “Tennessee did well for her last feeding but she took a little longer than usual to finish her feeds. I suctioned her nose well because she sounded a little congested and I think that’s what was affecting her suckling speed so we will monitor her next feed. I just have to wash her bottle and then we will be all set, her next feed is at 11:30. I will be over there for a moment, but I’ll return shortly”. (She points to the area where a few staff members are gathering) I offer to wash your bottle so that was one less thing she had to do because she seemed busy. When daddy and I are here with you, we try to do most of the work to allow the nurses to focus on other babies.

I walk over to the bottle washing sink. It’s a tiny walk from your bedside to this sink, passing two beds- Parish and another bed. Parish is snuggling with his mama and the other bed is… empty. But not just empty… recently empty as if a baby was just there. I start to feel uneasy. I start to wash your bottle and I look to the right- I see a scene I will never forget. It is permanently engraved in my eyelids. A cart with blood transfusion bags, epinephrine, breathing bags, syringes, blood in the suction container and a small spot the size of a baseball of blood on the tiny incubator bed…. and I knew… Everything hit me like a ton of bricks, a mama’s nightmare had just occurred. The same nurse that had swaddled you up and made you look so beautiful for our arrival is the same nurse that just gave her entire mind, heart and soul along with her team to try to save another’s baby life… and unfortunately, it was unsuccessful. 😦 😦

I slowly walk back to your bedside where daddy was telling you how cute you are. I whispered in daddy’s ear, “I think the baby that was ‘getting a procedure’- died.” We were both quiet and didn’t have many words. It took us right back to September 1st- the day of your life saving surgery where we looked your death in the eyes and pleaded with God that we’d do anything to keep you with us.

I felt physically ill, my legs began to shake uncontrollably. The director and head doctors started to arrive. They all stood in a circle and they discussed the debriefing process. I didn’t want to hear any of it but I knew for sure- the mama who exited those doors 20 minutes earlier while we waited to greet our babies, was a mama holding her deceased child for the last time. The absence of IV lines and monitors now made sense. 😦

I sit down and hold you trying to process… my legs are still shaking uncontrollably and your tiny little body is bouncing too much so I tell daddy to hold you so I can take a walk and gather my emotions and thoughts. Daddy knows music calms my soul so he tells me to get my headphones and to take a timeout. I gently pass you to daddy and I take a walk- up and down the hallways- no real destination in sight, just seeking prayer and calmness to continue this reality. I find a chair and just sob. We’ve learned here- holding it in only causes more pain so on the dark days, we let it out so we can continue on the journey and keep our minds clear… otherwise this environment will swallow you whole.

I sit and sob… the occupational therapy nurse that works with us often sees me having a “moment”. “Tennessee’s mama? Are you okay?”… “yes I’m okay” is all I can get out while sobbing. She comes closer and sits next to me with a sincere loving face and says “If you are open to talking, you can talk to me”. I have no idea how these nurses can be so compassionate when they see the things they see. They are literal angels on earth. “I don’t have much to say and I feel guilty for even being this emotional. I’m just not used to all of this. The baby next to Tennessee is gone and I’m just mourning, I am mourning for the nurses and doctors who tried so hard to save him or her and I am mourning for that mama and family. I just don’t understand why all of this has to happen to precious babies. Why is this journey so hard for some mommies? I feel so guilty that I have Tenny still and they don’t have theirs. We all deserve to take our babies home, I’ll never understand…. I just needed a quiet moment alone to pray for that family”. She listened and she understood. Of course she did, this isn’t her first and she knows it won’t be her last. She is a NICU nurse. This is her reality. They dedicate their lives to saving babies but sometimes they fall short but it’s never due to lack of effort, skill or knowledge. This is a level 1 NICU (the best and highest-level NICU). If tragedies happen, it’s by no means taken lightly but reality is, there are several other babies that need these doctors and nurses to continue fighting for them but doesn’t mean they continue on with no burdens.

I gather my thoughts, and I remind myself that you need me, and I need to dust off my chaps and get back in there with you. I don’t want to though. I don’t want to go back into the NICU-ever again. I want daddy to pack your bags and meet me at the car with you but that’s not an option. It’s irrational and a fairy tale. So mama rings the nurse’s station with my mama code for entrance and find my inner strength to be the best mama I can be to you. I come back to you sleeping so soundly on daddy. I have learned that snoozing on daddy is your favorite. You are always so content and happy in his arms. One glimpse at you gives me the hope I need continue this fight with you.

Sweet nurse Carly comes over and tells us that nurse Kathy will be leaving for the day, and that nurse Heaven will be taking over. A nurse named Heaven? after what just occurred? I see you God! We’ve never met nurse Heaven but I am comforted knowing nurse Kathy can go home to escape this environment for the day- she has been through enough today and trying to tend to babies after losing one is just too much. I wanted to hug nurse Kathy so bad but I didn’t want to cause her to be more emotional. So again, I started to pray for her instead.

We quickly got to know a little about Nurse Heaven. Her first question to us is “Are you guys from Nashville?”… “No were from Arizona”.. “Oh I thought maybe Nashville with a baby named Tennessee, I love that name. I am obsessed with country music. Why did you name her that?” We tell her the story behind your name and she thinks it’s so cute! She tells us she is dying to go to Nashville, she’s never been, and she loves country concerts. Her favorite country singer is Luke Combs, her husband surprised her with concert tickets and she was ecstatic. She’s also going to see Carrie Underwood in a few weeks with a friend. I tell her it was an amazing show, until I went into labor 5hrs later, haha. It was a fun and easy conversation. These nurses are amazing. No matter what they go through, they make sure that us as parents are okay.

It’s now 2pm, today is your bath day so we prepare you for your bath and get you fed. Today you drank all your bottles for mommy and daddy and you successfully pee on daddy during your diaper change. I love these silly moments of “normal newborn” life. It gives us the little laughs we crave so much, and I’m extra happy that its daddy and not mommy you chose to always pee or poo on.. hehe. We get you nice and clean, feed you and snuggle you tighter than we ever have today. We also stay longer than usual; we don’t want to leave you after a day like today. 😦

The walk to the car is a quiet one. Daddy knows mommy is struggling. Even though I was able to brush off such a tragic morning and tend to you with so much love, he knows it is still very heavy on my mind. One thing about NICU is the unspoken bond you have with other mamas- whether you’ve talked to them before or not, you understand them, you pray for them and you yearn for the day each of them can take their babies home.

Today just hit too close to home. When you were sick, I remember reaching to the bottom of my soul for any glimpse of hope… but I was also guilty of preparing myself to say goodbye. Reality is baby girl, you were very very sick. You were purple from head to toe, swollen, unresponsive with 65% of dead intestines in your belly. At any moment your body could have succumbed to the injury your body was enduring. I saw glimpses of moments where I didn’t know how much longer your tiny 2lb body could fight and the mere thought of losing you killed my soul to its core. Knowing a mommy was enduring the pain I feared so much was suffocating. I didn’t know that mommy, her baby was a new baby that just arrived, but you don’t have to know somebody to mourn for them or pray for them.

Today was a reminder of the unspoken realities of the NICU, not every baby makes it home. I feel guilty that I still have you. It doesn’t make any sense. When you were so sick, I envied the mommies with healthy babies. Now that you are well, I feel guilty that my precious miracle is here but another mommy’s angel had to go. It’s complete mental and emotional chaos. I’m exhausted…. These realities are the unspoken moments that NICU mamas struggle with and should be talked about more often because although they are raw, they are real.

No mommy should ever have to see their babies fight so hard during the first breaths of life. In a perfect world, NICUs wouldn’t need to exist. But this isn’t a perfect world, and you wouldn’t have survived without this NICU so I’ll be forever grateful to them.

We get back to the Ronald Mcdonald apartment, I tell daddy I’m going to take a shower, he knows this is the place I go to pray or cry and tonight I need to do both….

……….

Knowing a mommy is mourning the loss of a precious child is haunting me but prayer brings me so much peace. I trust that God will wrap his arms around that mama and daddy tonight and every night.

I climb into bed after a good cry. I feel better. I close my eyes and plead with God for something positive in the NICU tomorrow- it doesn’t have to be with you. Maybe baby Isaac will have a tiny milestone? Maybe Parish’s mama will get her car seat checked and pass? Maybe you will increase your feeds? Maybe we will see a baby leaving to go home after a long stay?? Anything… I’m desperate for a tiny glimpse of light after such a dark day:(

I close my eyes and hope tomorrow is less dim……

good night baby Tenny, see you tomorrow, I promise I will have my strength back tomorrow! Today was a hard one, it’s days like this I won’t miss at all once we leave here.

Love, mommy