I was discharged from the hospital 2 days after Layla was born, on Christmas Eve. I will never forget how it felt to be pushed out the door with my "It's a Girl!" balloon and Diaper Genie from the hospital and leaving my little girl behind. I held it together all the way home but as we were getting out of the car, I spotted the diaper bag. My husband had brought it to the hospital when I was in labor. He quickly grabbed it and helped me inside but it was too late. Walking in my front door, with just her diaper bag, was more than I could take. I just crumpled to the ground and sobbed. My husband held me and rubbed my back but I don't think he knew what to say. It just felt so wrong. I never thought I would come home without her. It almost felt like she wasn't real. Like the whole thing had been a dream.
Once I was able to get up and calm enough to think, I sprung into action. I had 2 hours until I was due back at the hospital to feed her. I had just enough time to shower (it felt like heaven) and force down an english muffin, before I made what would be the first of so many trips to the NICU. The whole time she was there, I only missed a handful of her feedings. We were working on breastfeeding so the hospital let me stay in the Ronald McDonald room a few nights and I got up every 2 hours, scrubbed in, sweated bullets while I tried to get her to eat enough, walk back to my room and pump, lay down, repeat. I never slept really. I never ate. I lost all my baby weight in 2 weeks. My entire life revolved around the NICU. Around her body temperature (she couldn't keep it up) her wight (she dropped down to 3lb 13) and getting her to eat enough so they wouldn't put the tube back down her nose.
All of the nurses seemed to love Layla. They were amazed at how "aware" she seemed all the time. She would lay there in her isolet, watching everyone that went by, patiently waiting for me to take her out and feed her. She was so skinny and small, we used to say she looked like a plucked chicken, and thats what I called her. My chicken. She seemed to be wise and thoughtful, with her big dark eyes. Always taking everything in.
The entire experience is a blur, and something I am just glad to have survived. I couldn't have done it without my husband. He was there almost as much as I was and always managed to keep things positive. After struggling to kick her jaundice and a few set backs, Layla finally got to come home on January 5, 2011. She weighed 4lb 5oz and was bright eyed and so alert as we climbed the stairs to our apartment. As I walked through the door, holding tightly to the car-seat, all was finally right in the world. The sleepless nights and dirty diapers ahead didn't matter. We were finally a family.
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