today sebastian and i rode the big bus home and sat upstairs. he was tired and melted into my lap and as the bus rocked and swayed, we both settled into little dream worlds instead of playing "eye-spy". instead, i played "i-remember".
when the babies were in the NICU, i remember being amazed at the care being given to their positioning. every four hours, a nurse would come along and turn their tiny bodies, twisting a cloth to support their positions. "it is to prevent bedsores" a kind nurse explained. considering that a full term baby basically lies on its back for its first few weeks, i thought this odd.
but i also learned, the carefully chosen positions helped improve their blood circulation throughout organs and epidermis, and since the babies’ skin was still so newly formed (skin comes in at about 25 weeks, ours were born at 26) too much weight for too long would have worn their skin off. i couldn’t believe that two pounds could be so harmful.
when i first saw the babies, they were in bassinettes covered in cling film. i remember, aside from the bewilderment of this whole hushed NICU world, the pain, guilt and devastation and eerie peace, and believing that these three, 24-27 cm long hairy, faceless, creatures whose eyes hadn’t even opened came from the fresh (low, it must be admitted) scar from my abdomen i was extremely apprehensive. how medical is cling film? it was the same brand i used to cover sebastian’s frozen peas in the microwave.
i can remember how they had triplets one and two beside each other, and how triplet three was opposite them. i can remember the doctor telling magnificent that the babies were stable for now, and just looking at them and wondering how such tiny, sickly scraps of humanity could possibly be classified as "stable". had he seen them? how could he, through the blurry cling film, the goggles covering their eyes, the tubes slipping into their noses, the ventilator forcing open their mouths and covering their cheeks and chins, the iv’s tearing into their arms and the bandages covering their arms, the duoderms that encompassed their chests, the glowing blood pressure monitor attached to their feet, the caps covering their heads??? where did the diagnosis come from?
their hearts were beating.
NICU…it has almost been one year since we wiped tears away and said goodbye to you, but your surreal surroundings flow through me still. maybe i need some careful positions to improve my circulation.
