The 40 days Max spent in the NICU are a blur in my mind. Because the NICU functions on routine – literally: diaper change, feed, sleep, repeat every three hours – every day felt like the one before it. With so much similarity and repetition, the smallest shifts felt like the biggest milestones:
The day he no longer needed IV fluids.
The day he no longer needed Bilirubin lights for jaundice.
The day he got moved to his own private room.
The day he no longer needed nasal air flow to breathe.
The day he tried drinking from a bottle for the first time.
The day he got moved into a crib instead of an incubator.
The day he finished a bottle for the first time.
The day he got to wear clothes for the first time.
While all of these shifts were happening, Max was cared for by literally dozens of different nurses. Each shift we were greeted by a different friendly face of whichever nurse was assigned to Max for that 12-hour period, all of whom were sweet and compassionate and patient as we fumbled our way through being NICU parents. His nurses navigated the sensory overload and tension of the NICU with such grace, managing to do their jobs of providing vital healthcare and emotional support all while usually staying out of our way.
Somehow, though, Nurse Bobbie knew just when to get in our way.
We first met Nurse Bobbie on Max’s fourth day of life. The day before I had been released from the hospital and was able to finally get settled in back at home for my own recovery. The night before was the first time I went back to the hospital, walking right past the labor and delivery triage unit that I entered a week earlier ignorantly thinking I had 7 weeks of pregnancy left.
Aaron and I drove to the hospital that Wednesday morning for Max’s 8 am feeding, and as we entered his NICU room after scrubbing in we were greeted by Bobbie for the first time. She gave us the update on how his night went – he had needed to go back on nasal air flow to help him breathe, like a CPAP machine for infants (he takes after his father!) – and then helped us interact with Max because at that point he was still so tiny and fragile. Bobbie showed Aaron how to change Max’s tiny diaper and answered all of our questions about his health status and care without missing a beat. She got me situated to do skin-to-skin with Max and walked us through what to expect from his NICU stay.
Over the course of the 7 weeks Max was in the hospital, Bobbie became a beacon of light for us – I started calling her Max’s fairy godmother, but really she felt like my fairy godmother too. She showed us how to safely change, feed, and hold Max without ever once judging us for not knowing what to do, but most importantly she subtly guided us on how to feel and reminded us – again, without judgment – of when there was something to celebrate.
“Bring some onesies with you when you visit Max today – we get to put him in clothes!!” she said over the phone to me one morning a few weeks in, going out of her way to make a special call to me before I hit the road to head to the hospital. I had purchased special preemie-sized onesies because it turns out even newborn clothes are HUGE on a 3 lb baby, and had anxiously awaited the moment we could finally put them to use. When I brought Max’s tiny basket of tiny clothes to his room that day, Bobbie asked me which onesie I wanted to put him in to be his very first outfit and I completely froze. That felt like such a significant decision that I hadn’t been prepared to make – I hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t weighed the pros and cons of each option which would go down in history as “Max’s first outfit”.
As I fumbled through the tiny clothes, Bobbie could see I was overwhelmed and gently suggested “what about that cute blue one with the aliens on it?” without ever making me feel bad for taking too long to decide or not having a pre-planned outfit picked out.
“Yes – that one!” I responded, relieved to have some guidance.
“It turns out, this one is the perfect outfit to start with because it has extra snaps on the arms which will make it super easy to put on him. Excellent choice!” she validated as she showed me how to work around the various tubes and wires monitoring his vital signs.
As soon as Max was dressed, Bobbie then said to me “okay, you sit down in the armchair and bring your phone with you; I’m going to put him on this pillow on your lap so you can take pictures of him!” – I hadn’t even caught up with her enough to be excited that he was dressed for the first time because I was so steeped in the monotonous blur of the NICU routine.
Without explicitly saying it, Bobbie made it clear that this moment was something to get excited about.
I’m so glad she did, because without that reminder I think I would have missed it.
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