Timeline Part Two: The NICU

NICU: Neonatal Intensive Care Unit

We were so relieved that Ben and Emma made it to 34 weeks gestation, and were born healthy, that their time in the NICU didn't feel as scary or overwhelming as I'd imagined. For one thing, they were very healthy compared with some of the babies they shared the unit with, which provided us with perspective on just how fortunate we were. For another thing, since Bemma weren't in dire physical condition -- outside of a little jaundice and CPAP for Emma they were mostly taking time to rest, eat, and repeat -- the three weeks they spent ripening became a magical slice of time when Nora healed and rested, we got to know our babies, we received newborn handling instructions from some of the best nurses in the country, and, most surprisingly, Nora and I got to spend a lot of hours together over lunch and coffee while the babies slept.

At first it felt weird to ever leave the babies bedside, but, after much prompting from the wise sages in scrubs, we finally believed that having some time together away from the hospital while the babies slept was not only allowed, it was possibly the best way to renew our spirits and charge our batteries for what we had coming the moment the NICU staff decided to give us the keys to newborn parenthood.

Our days developed a lovely pattern. We'd wake early, gather clothes for Bemma, and make the trek to the hospital in time for the 9am feeding. After vigorously scrubbing ourselves at the entrance, so as not to infect the vulnerable babies, we'd scurry to the corner of the unit our little ones were tucked into.

We'd always make sure the night nurse told the day nurse that we were going to be there so that we could participate in the entire ritual. First, we'd say happy good mornings to the little faces we'd never forget but were still getting to know. Next we'd unwrap them from their cocoon of swaddling blankets and change their tiny diapers, which made me feel like a giant with tree stumps for fingers. Finally we'd re-clothe and swaddle our bundles and offer them a bottle, measured by the milliliter. Under careful observation from the nurse, we'd place Bemma in the 'feeding position' with the left arm supporting the body and the left hand supporting the head. With the right hand we'd tilt the bottle to just the right angle so as to optimize food intake, but minimize gas bubbles. And then we'd hope, plead and pray for twins to eat, and erupt in hushed exultation if even a handful of milliliters had made the journey from bottle to belly.

After 30-45 minutes the nurse would call 'time' and we'd have to return our bundles to the bed and watch as the remainder of their bottle was shuttled through a tube that ran into their nose, through their pharynx, down their esophagus and into their stomach. We'd watch with awe as our little angels fluttered in and out of dozing and then gave in to their desperate need for sleep.

To recap the events up to that point, we arrived at the bedside by 9am. Changed diapers from 9-9:30ish and fed from 9:30-10:15ish. (That illustrates another thing about premature babies. Everything happens in slow motion). The next ritual would commence at high noon, so it was at this time that Nora would usually rest in a chair next to the babies and I'd go for a run. I'd race back in time for the noon changing and feeding, after which we'd usually go have lunch and be sure to return by 3pm to perform the ritual yet again. After the 3pm, there would be some afternoon napping with the babies, a little snack and, BAM, it'd be 6pm, time to do it again. At the 6pm, we'd have to hustle because they closed the NICU to visitors from 7-8pm. At that point, after a long day of drinking in our new babies and time spent together, Nora and I would return home, unpack our belongings, eat some food, lay out some clothes for Bemma for the next day and then get some rest, excited to do it all the next day.

I know the 6am, 12pm, 3pm, and 6pm feeding rituals may sound like the same activity over and over again, but they were anything but that. Each time we changed a diaper, held our babies, wrapped them in blankets, touched their toes, fed them, stared at them while they slept, or burped them, was in of itself a spectacular and exciting moment, like taking the first steps on the moon repeatedly throughout the course of a day. I never would've guessed that living in a newborn's world could be so exciting.

After three weeks, the babies got the nod from the docs, and the nurses handed us the keys to our babies. We accepted them with glee, hearts bursting to take the training wheels off of our parenthood. 24 hours and no sleep later we were ready to re-install those training wheels and move back into the cozy confines of the NICU. Our magical slice of time had officially been consumed by life with twin newborns.

Stay tuned for a chronicle of the newborn months...