In the December edition of our Preemie Family newsletter we learned about 26 1/2-week preemie Julian Everets Nixon, II who was born at 1 lb. 6 oz. and spent 18 days in the NICU before passing away. Read more in an update by his father, Julian Nixon.
by Julian Nixon, Father to Julian Everets Nixon, II & Co-Founder of “Connect2NICU” (www.Connect2NICU.com)
“If you want to hit me, you can. Go ahead and let out all of your anger. You don’t deserve this—you two did nothing wrong.”
As I looked at the doctor I could feel my fist taking on a mind of its own. The nurse that had accompanied the doctor watched my anger slowly rise above my grief and she began to slowly reach for her cell phone. I could envision myself hitting the doctor. I could envision myself hitting him and the nurse, tearing the room apart, tearing the NICU apart, and finally dealing with the short jerk from yesterday.
The pregnancy had been difficult, but we had no idea just how difficult it had truly been. We were young, inexperienced, and had no idea as to what was normal in pregnancy and what was abnormal. It was the day before Thanksgiving and we were stopping in to the doctor’s office to pick up the results of a urine sample. Twenty minutes later we were being rushed to the closest hospital. Apparently, what we had been told was normal had not been normal at all: my wife was experiencing severe preeclampsia and everyone feared the worst. Fast-forward to Black Friday and I received the best gift ever: my firstborn son. You couldn’t find a better deal on Amazon!
But this gift came at a price. While my wife laid on the operating table, my son was surrounded by medical staff. Both of them were dying, both of them were slipping away from me and I couldn’t do anything about it. I have no idea how long we were in the Labor and Delivery. I lost count of the staff. I lost count of the bags of blood. I lost count of how many staff members took turns betting on when I would pass out (I never did, I used to be an Animal & Veterinarian Science Student). I lost count of how many tools they put into my wife. I lost count of how many times I heard the machines tell me that I was losing my wife. I lost count of the moments that the room fell silent. I lost count of how many times I refused to breathe until my son chose to do so.
Everyday I went to the NICU and I read to him, I sang to him, and I told him about everything that he and I would do together. I guarded him day and night because he was so fragile, and yet so strong willed. Some nurses loved him like their own, and some made every effort to make me as comfortable as possible. They told me that they didn’t see many men spend as much time with their children, doing the numerous things that I did. I would smile when they said that, but deep down inside I knew that the one thing that I wanted to do for him the most was to take him home. I spent day after day watching people arrive to take their child home—out of this strange place where we did not belong and into a home of belonging and care.
To continue reading please click here: By Julian Nixon, posted on Preemie World.