12 Days of NICU
A number of experiences occur in this life that I never want to forget. One such is this moment, here in the NICU while my newborn son Emmitt is waiting to be discharged.
Immediately after birth we noticed that our sweet little baby was very stuffed up. At first, the nurses believed the gurgling was normal evacuation of amniotic fluid. After a few hours, however, when the gurgling and struggling had not decreased the professionals figured it was time to give him a closer look. They carried him out of the room and he did not come back. He was admitted to the NICU with a case of Esophageal atresia. The treatment is an emergency surgery.
We left the hospital we had given birth in and headed to a facility specializing in neonatal emergencies. We drove quickly through mid-day traffic. Our eyes were clouded over with a mix of exhaustion from the 32 1/2 hours of labor and tears that were filled with both fear and joy. In my life I had never felt so many different things at once. While gripping the steering wheel I felt alive while being so very tired, ecstatic while paralyzation seemed to course through my veins and alert while also sensing myself more thoughtless and indifferent to my surroundings than I had ever been.
For the next two weeks feelings continued to sway through the entire spectrum, transient and illusive as the norther lights. From fear to blissful elation, confusion to confident assurance, love to hate, pitiful sadness to overwhelming joy. There was no telling how long or how intense the next feeling would be. At times it felt I was stuck in a weak dull excuse for a feeling that made me think that something was wrong with myself and it would last for hours. It seemed that I would be there for days or for the rest of my life. Other times a feeling came on sharp as a knife and would either excite me towards the ceiling of life or throw me into a chasm of paralyzing fear and remorse and then leave elegant and swift as a cool breeze on a scorching summer day.
While writing this, waiting for discharge, feelings are at a place I have not been to or sensed in many moons. I figured when this news came I would be leaping for joy, elated and difficult to stifle. Instead I feel stable, serene, stoic and solid as a grove of Spanish oak. The aura feels calm. Noises and colors are not sharp and penetrating as they were when my emotions were shifting like a kaleidoscope. Restoration to normalcy is being evoked.
I write this in great relief, for there were times I was quite scared of what I would do next. There was a point in this journey that I hit a bottom. I felt my emotional world spiral into a numbness. This is a particularly scary place for me to sit. When I go numb I start to create dramatic, harsh situations to try and shock my emotions back into reality. It’s as if my subconscious is using an emotional defibrillator to bring my spiritual self back into existence, often at the expense of others or my sobriety. I have found myself on binges. Once I found myself on the brink of suicide and texted pictures to loved ones of myself devouring more anxiety medication than a horse could handle. There’s shattered glass, wrecked vehicles, police reports and broken hearts laid like bricks on a pathway that begins with this numbness.
A mountain top is where I sit today and write these words. Peering over the path traveled exhausted, but filled with gratitude and appreciation. I saw these emotions laying before me, seemingly insurmountable. I felt the harsh realities as my muscles ached towards the summit. I endured the temptation of sleeping through the next day slowly freezing in my sleeping bag and avoiding my frozen boots (anyone who has been on a painstaking mountain endeavor can relate to this feeling). Today I get to sit and reflect on the sights and feelings while basking in the gifts of perseverance. The journey has led to a new sense of strength and accomplishment. But most notably, this journey has showed me a new depth of love and intimacy. During this time Jess became a rock for me. My family became a backbone and my friends who support my sobriety and new way of life became the sand in which I could rest my feet as the waves crashed unto my knees. After this I know I never need to be alone. Thank God.