This is a continuation of my thoughts and timeline of events occurring around the birth of our son Elijah.
Saturday, October 3rd
There I sat, feet away from my little guy. His breathing was labored, chest swelling with each hard earned breath. Jess was sleeping in her room, waiting for the moment we knew would be coming. The flight nurse and RT (Respiratory Therapist) gave me the word that Elijah was ready for transport, so I walked down the hall to get Jess up to say goodbye.
Jess was already awake, being attended to by her nurse. One look into the room and she said “is it time?” Nodding my head, I helped her out of bed. Jess needed to be standing to see our little guy. They opened one window on the isolette, motioning for Jess to say goodbye. With her trembling hand reached inside, resting on his head, she said “Mommy loves you” in a soft, trembling voice. Pulling her hand out she turned to me. I don’t remember the words spoken, but I remember the look we share, one that simultaneously conveyed so much and was so deep that it stayed with me for the days to come.
It was as simple as driving through a gate and up to the plane.
We headed down the hallway, Jessica’s gentle sobbing fading. We headed down to the waiting ambulance. I rode shotgun, trying to make some small talk with the driver. We arrived at the airport. I didn’t know what the procedure was for getting on the tarmac. Was there a security check? Did I still need to pull out my laptop? But it was as simple as driving through a gate and up to the plane.
They unloaded Elijah and all their gear. It was pretty impressive how the portable isolette transferred onto the plan. My seat was in the back of the plane, facing the rear. The flight RT gave me a quick safety talk, doing a good job of lightening the moment with some wry jokes, even offering me a Coke.
Moments later we were up in the air. It was a weird sensation taking off backwards. I tried my best to sleep, occasionally checking over my shoulder toward Elijah. The flight was short and before I knew it, we were landing in Billings. I could hear the rain hitting the skin of the plane. They quickly ushered me to the ambulance, moments later handing me my bag. In retrospect, the bag wasn’t all that important to have. It was my work bag and only had technology in it. A camera, two lenses, two tablets and a laptop, plus other random items. Not really a great overnight bag, not that I headed into this knowing that I’d be flying the St. Vincent Help Flight non-stop to Billings.
Once at the hospital, we bypassed the main emergency entrance and took a long hallway that looked something straight out of a thriller; sterile, with a green tinge from the ever so flickering lights, sound echoing on the hard surfaces. Fortunately, the NICU was as different from this as possible. They dubbed it the peaceful garden, where the center columns were decorated as trees, branches stretching across the ceiling into glowing leaves. It was quiet, but the nursing staff set in motion quickly. One placed a chair beneath me where I sat, watching them work on his little body, switching him from the temporary support to the room systems.
As is with all things, some paperwork ensued, but they did their best to minimize it. They also set me up in a family room down the hall. With Elijah stabilized and the NICU quiet there wasn’t much more I could do but get a few moments of sleep. The flight nurse grabbed for me a few essential toiletries and took me to the room. I took a shower and attempted to get some rest, sending Jess some updates in the process.
A woke, after only a couple hours, my legs sore from a day’s worth of standing a pacing. The prior events were so much of a drain that I was groggy, feeling like I woke into a dream. I stumbled into the hallway, barely sure of where I was and eventually found the NICU, but had to get a nurse to let me in. They showed me to my little guy and the attending nurse took me on a quick tour and got me set up to receive a visitor badge. Elijah was still breathing heavy, but asleep and I was ordered by the nurse to go back to bed. Alone, I stumbled back to the room and passed out for a successful nap.
I felt guilty sitting there, Jess deserved this time with him, not me.
The rest of the day was a cycle of checking on my boy and updating family and friends. Jess was still in Bozeman and wouldn’t be released until Sunday morning. The nurse did her best to involve me in caring for Elijah. I changed his diapers and took his temperature every few hours. In the late evening I had the special treat of skin to skin time. By this time he was slightly stirring, but still having his breaths driven by a ventilator. The NICU RT came up and helped transition him to my chest as I sit next to his bedside in a recliner. I sat there for four hours, my little man sacked out in my arms. I felt guilty sitting there, Jess deserved this time with him, not me. Tears of joy, sadness and loneliness came over me, but sleep also took hold, too tired to continue on.