Special Post - Visiting the NICU

Every NICU visit begins at home making sure we have everything we need in our bag. We use our “Parents Partnered for Preemies” bag the hospital gave us; it’s like one of those bags your preschooler gets. Anyway, we always keep books, our camera, an extra camera battery, our hospital bracelets, and now the prayer note cards my cousin Rachel sent us in the bag. Sometimes we need to bring other things so we make certain everything is packed and ready to go. We take the same route and enter the same parking garage. We know the garage well now. At certain times of day you just drive up to the top level—don’t bother looking. Sometimes we get behind a newcomer and some frustration can rise, not because that car in front of us is slow, but because I want to see my son and this person is keeping me from him. Once we park we walk across the walk way into the hospital and proceed to level 2, where the NICU is located. After 9:00pm the doors are locked so you have to use the security phone to get in. The NICU front desk is in front of the elevators, but slightly to the left. Most of the desk workers know us by now so they call back to Carrick’s bed space to see if it’s ok for us to come in when we walk up. Sometimes they ask to see our bracelets to make sure we’re really his parents. A few weeks after Carrick was born another Turner family had twins so sometimes we have to clarify that, also. Usually it’s fine for us to come back so the nurse pushes the button that unlocks the door, and we go back. Occasionally, there is no one at the desk and we have to wait. I become very angry if that happens. He’s my son; why do I need their permission to see him? I get over it quickly. Carrick is located in pod B. All the pod doors are button operated—you push the button and it opens. We then say hi to his nurse, put our bag (and Jenni’s purse) down, and wash our hands in the automatic sink that splashes water on you. Then we figure out which side of the bed Carrick is facing and proceed to stare at him. The nurse will go over how he’s doing and ask if we have any questions. They’ve pretty much stopped explaining things unless we ask; we have been here awhile. The nurses rotate. We might have the same day shift nurse 3 days in a row, but then another nurse the fourth day; same with the night shift also. They’re all sweet and very helpful and encouraging, maybe one was really loud too. We usually check his oxygen level and monitors ourselves. We’ve even begun to look at his x-rays, not that we perceive much from them, but enough to find tubes and check his BPD—lung disease. The NICU is much quieter at night. We visit twice a day; once in the morning from 10am to around noon, and once at night from around 8:30pm to 10pm or so. We try to limit our visits to an hour and half because it’s hard to stay longer. It’s exhausting. Sometimes we stand over his isolette, and sometimes we sit by it. We don’t read to him every time, but we’ll usually read a couple stories if we do. I show him the pictures but Jenni doesn’t because, honestly, he can’t see them clearly. We don’t take pictures every time. It depends how he’s doing. We have to turn the light up to take pictures (no flash) and he likes it dark. We usually change his diaper at night; Jenni and I take turns. We can always lay our hands on him, which is very relaxing if you get past the isolette doorway digging into your arm. Most of the nurses congregate around the desk closest to Carrick’s isolette so at times it can be annoying. But at night it’s almost like we’re in there alone. His isolette is also by the door; it opens more than you think it would/should. We’ve gotten used to all the beeps from alarms and monitors. Every hour his IV fluids beep and have to be reset. I used to watch his monitors, but have stopped because it just adds to the stress. If something is really wrong the nurse will come over. Sometimes we talk to him, and sometimes we sit the whole time and just look at him. We leave when we’re either both falling asleep or just plain tired, but it’s hard to leave him. Every couple of nights we load up on bottles before we leave. All the parking garage attendants know us so they don’t even check our parking pass. It’s ok. It could be worse. There are a few things that annoy us. One, some of the nurse don’t think I want to be involved in his care, or they assume I’m not capable. We have seen a few single moms come through so I understand that. Two, not so much now, but it used to be that the nurses and doctors spoke only to Jenni. Even if I asked a question the reply was directed toward Jenni. I can understand that, also. But now they’ve seen so much of me that they’re convinced I love my son. Three, some of the nurses assume we aren’t married or don’t know. Four, there are those lovely days when everyone has to talk about their personal lives so everyone can hear them, or a nurse will be on the phone with a friend, yelling into it to make up for a poor cell phone signal. That’s what it’s like to visit Carrick in the NICU, normally. We thought you’d like to know.