After what felt like an endless night, we woke up relaxed. And then my brain panicked. They hadn't called from the NICU since 5.45 am. Rumi was waking ever 2-3 hours on an average. So at 9.30 am that could have only meant that they didn't get the memo from the night nurses and demand feeding was again under contention.
Thankfully mom had come back to the hospital and I felt better when Lohit offered to go to the NICU to speak to the nurses and also understand if and when they would shift us to Paediatrics so we could be with Rumi in the same room. Lohit wrote to me that he had met the Paediatrician and they were open to shifting us. However they weren't sure if they would be able to find a room.
By now I had begun to question my decision to not buy a breast pump and not read up enough on this topic. So when when hospital offered to get me to meet a lactation consultant, we jumped at the opportunity. She helped me understand how to pump and also got me to do it in front of her.
Armed with my first bottle (more like a few drops) of breast milk, I excitedly headed to the NICU. I handed over the bottle to the nurse and asked her to find out when we would move to Paeds. She was bubbly and eager to help. As she turned to go, her hand knocked over my precious bottle of milk. I felt so angry. I wanted to lash out at her. Instead I just cried a little. (The great thing about giving birth during the pandemic meant that my mask hid my face and if placed strategically, it also hid my tears.)
I just said it is ok when she profusely apologised. Of course she had no way to know just how much angst I had gone through - some physical, but mostly emotional - to get that milk there. I had to get over my need to feed him directly from the breast, to be there to nurture him. I had to accept that we will be separated at least for some time. The pumping was an acceptance. The milk was my medal. And there it was spilt.
Not crying over spilt milk took on a whole different meaning for me in that moment!
I reminded myself that she could be instrumental in shifting us. And I thought if I were nice to her despite what had happened she may go that extra mile to shift us. I don't know if this is what worked but she came back a few minutes later and confirmed that they would be shifting us in a few hours. What a sigh of relief. I would be in the same room, available whenever Rumi needed me. She then went on to ask if I wanted her to give Rumi his first bath. I said yes. His head still had blood in it and while I couldn't get enough of his newborn smell, I did wonder if the blood would cause him to get some infection.
He enjoyed his first bath and I sat on and watched. I didn't have the energy to stand up and do it myself. And I did wonder if this was the way his first bath should have been. But I felt such an overwhelming calm knowing I would be with him all through the night that I was willing to get over anything.
The next few hours went by easily. Mom helped me pack and Lohit stayed with Rumi in the NICU as they worked on discharge formalities for both of us. I eagerly followed up with the maternity nurses until they finally gave me the green signal and allowed me to not be a patient anymore. I too could move to Paeds with Rumi.
Lohit was with Rumi when they moved him. He later told me that Rumi's IV had gotten blocked while he was in the NICU and the poor baby had shrieked as they had to change it after poking him a bunch of times. They did suggest that Lohit leave and come back and not watch as they changed the IV. He of course insisted on standing right next to Rumi. There have been many moments during our conjoined parenthood journey when I have looked at Lohit and felt thankful for picking him, this was certainly one of those.
When Lohit called us to Paeds, he also shared that they wouldn't allow mom to come with us. Since I wasn't a patient anymore, I could obviously not have my doula. And thanks to the pandemic, they were treating Paeds as if it were a top secret military facility, only allowing the bare minimum.
Mom and I decided we could carry all our stuff and she would wheel me to Paeds. This way perhaps the nurse would allow her a moment to meet Rumi as she brought in our stuff. This totally didn't work. The nurse instead told mom that she would settle me in. And as she shut the doors on mom I felt such an enormous grief. Funnily, it wasn't for myself. I felt mom's pain as if it were my own. I could tell how helpless she must feel outside those doors knowing she couldn't be there for me. She also hadn't held or seen Rumi since the time they took him into the NICU and I knew she was longing to just hold him.
And then as she wheeled me in and I saw Rumi in the bassinet, all my gloom lifted for a few minutes. Just the sight of him made everything else disappear.
It wasn't until later that Lohit walked in and shared that they wouldn't be letting him stay the night either. This is when I looked around and realised there was no bed for me either. There was one couch that could be converted into a sleeping space. And that was it. There was a washroom but it would be shared by four other set of parents. There were quite a few moments when I looked at myself as if I was a third person and pitied the state I was in. That was one of those. I cried it out. And Lohit held me. He even offered that he would stay in the car or a hotel nearby and come back as soon as they would let him in. But I knew these were all impractical suggestions. I never felt more alone than I did then.
Hurting and in tremendous pain, I wondered how I would even manage to do it by myself? At the edge of despair, Rumi woke up and I was able to feed him and calm him. This made it all seem okay.
My emotions were like a rollercoaster. Thrilled and elated for few minutes, followed by dreadful and at the end of my wits the very next.
Was this what motherhood was supposed to feel like?
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