It was a beautiful Sunday day in October. I was
24 weeks pregnant and had just gotten out my maternity clothes for the
first time to wear that day. It was a lovely day, and we went to an
apple farm. Little did I know at the time that would be the last day
me, my husband and daughter would do a family outing with just us. I
was just starting to feel like I was actually pregnant; I was showing
and had just started feeling the baby kick a few weeks prior. I so
desperately wanted a wonderful, natural birthing experience with this
baby, one that I missed out on with my first baby.

         Three days later I noticed some bloody mucous. Not much really
to concern me at the time but I thought it over and decided to give a
call to my OB anyway. They had me come in and upon examination, I was
found to be 2-3 cm dialated with my water bag bulging. I instantly
began to cry; I thought I was going to lose the baby. I was brought to
the hospital and I stayed there for 6 days, desperately trying to keep
my baby in for as long as possible. Being on the labor and delivery
floor was very heart wrenching. Day and night hearing all the births
around, babies crying, and then a bunch of clapping and cheering. I
knew that was never meant to be for me.

          After six days in the hospital, I ended up giving birth. Not
the birth I planned for, not the birth I hoped for, not the birth I
dreamed of. I did do it without any pain medications and was able to
deliver vaginally. It happened very quickly, as I went to 10 cm without
any contractions. As soon as I pushed her out, I started crying. I
wasn't able to hold my baby, I wasn't able to see my baby and all I
heard was a brief peep that she made. They had a bunch of people
surrounding her and getting her intubated. All these people laid eyes
on her before me, all these people touched my baby before me. I cried
hysterically for about half an hour. I caught a brief glimpse of her
leg as they whisked her away to the NICU. After I finally stopped
crying, my cousin brought in my other daugher and I felt better.
Actually, I felt sort of numb to the whole experience I just had. I
physically didn't feel like I just gave birth. I sort of blocked out
the whole experience and just supressed my feelings in front of my
family. I went about and ate my dinner that was delivered while I was
birthing.

       After a few hours, my family went home and I was left alone. I
called and requested a pump. I was able to get out a few drops. I
actually didn't even think of my baby at the time. It's hard to explain
but I just couldn't come to terms that I had delivered already. I was
hoping to get some sleep that night, as I hadn't slept since I've been
there, even with the aid of sleeping pills. I did manage to get in a
few hours and then morning arrived. It had been over 12 hours since I
delivered and I didn't even ask about my baby and how she was doing.
The nurse gave me a brief update a few hours after she was born and
that was it. I called the NICU and asked if I could come and see her.
They said I would have to wait a few hours as the doctors were doing
rounds. So there I sat, thinking about what to expect in there. What
will she look like? I had no idea. Then I finally got to go down and
was told the whole procedure of scrubbing in and NICU procedures. I
remember just being in a daze at the time. Then they brought me to her.
She was laying there in a plastic box with all sorts of machines around
her. I got a closer look and was just in shock. She had all sorts of
wires, tubes just everywhere. She was so tiny, only 1 lb. 11 oz., and
she was just skin and bones. I just stood there. The nurses told me how
she was doing and honestly I don't even think I heard them, I just
stared. They asked if I wanted to touch her hand. I cried and said no.
I couldn't do it. I began feeling an overwhelming feeling of sadness
and grief and started feeling dizzy. I told them I need to go lie down.
I went back to my room and just cried some more. That couldn't be my
baby. My baby should be in my arms, my baby should be snuggled with her
mommy breastfeeding, my baby should be with me, my baby should not be
in a plastic box hooked up like she's some cyborg.

           I went back later that afternoon when my husband came. We
both went and saw her together. I was a bit better composed. Almost 24
hours after her birth, I touched my baby for the first time. I touched
her tiny little hand and she grasped right on to my finger. It was so
heartbreaking. I couldn't believe she was so tiny. She didn't even have
her eyes opened yet. I was told I was ok to go home whenever I wanted.
So we got all our affairs taken care of at the hospital and I remember
saying I don't want to leave without naming her. So we discussed it for
a few hours, decided upon Megan Elizabeth, and left for home.

         I didn't go back until 5 days later. I just couldn't bear
seeing her like that. When I did go to visit, I only stayed for an
hour. It's so hard seeing your baby in the incubator. Not being able to
hold her in your arms, not being able to feed her, comfort her,
everything that a new mom should be doing for her newborn baby. I felt
robbed, I felt cheated, I felt lost. In some ways I felt like this
wasn't my baby. It couldn't be my baby, it just couldn't be. The next
time I saw her, another 5 days later, she had just opened her eyes for
the first time. It was so amazing, it was like I finally saw her. For
the next few weeks, I only saw her one to two times a week for only
about an hour each time. I was still in some sort of denial that she
was actually my baby. I feel almost ashamed to admit that I felt no
love for her. This baby just seemed like some strange baby I saw every
now and then.

         Three weeks after the birth of my baby, I was told I could
finally hold her. Of course, in retrospect, it didn't seem like I was
really holding her. They wrapped her up in several blankets, put her on
top of a pillow and I got to hold the pillow with my baby on top of it.
She was still intubated so it was awkard with all the wires and tubes.
I got to hold my baby for the first time. All I could think of was this
just isn't the way it should be. I shouldn't have to wait three long
weeks to hold my baby for the first time. Those three weeks took such
an emotional toll out of me. Three weeks of being in denial that I had
a new baby. Three weeks of sleepless nights, wondering if I'd ever
bring that baby  home with us. Three weeks of wondering if I would ever
feel any love for her. When I held her for that first time, some of the
questions were answered for me. Yes, this was my baby, and I knew one
day she would be home with us, and for once, I started to have some
feeling for her. This baby just wasn't a baby, this baby was my
daughter, Megan