by Rachel DiGiammarino

As a new mother, if someone were to actually ask me for advice, here’s what I would have to say.  “An easy pregnancy does not mean an easy labor and delivery, mothers should not compare their bodies or their babies, and the reason no one told you what to expect [about parenthood] is because it will change your life so profoundly it cannot be put into words.”  I would like to share our story about our son Mason’s birth, because I am so grateful for all of the attention and care we received that made his first few days of life so significant.

Mason was born on Tuesday, September 24, 2002 at 9:25am by emergency cesarean section.  My husband, 'Digi', held him briefly, then the pediatricians told us our son would need to be in the Neo-Natal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) for at least 4 hours of observation because of irregular breathing.  The next time we saw Mason was in a couple of Polaroid photos one of the doctors brought to my hospital room.  He was so beautiful, but attached to tubes, oxygen, and monitors.  The doctor explained that he had pneumothorax, which means an air pocket had spontaneously opened inside his chest, preventing his lungs from expanding fully and pushing his heart out of place.  He was receiving oxygen and antibiotics, they had drained the air pocket and were taking x-rays to monitor his heart and lungs.  We were told we could visit him later in the afternoon. It was at this early point that I learned that a parent’s love and desire to protect their child cannot be compared to any other feeling.

I think the euphoria and relief over Mason’s birth shielded me somewhat from the seriousness of his condition.  When friends and family came to visit it wasn’t always convenient for them to see Mason in the NICU, so we would proudly show them our polaroids.  My husband was slightly more pragmatic about the situation, wanting to make sure he understood the diagnosis, the treatments, and the prognosis.  During our five days in the hospital, we spent most of our time in the NICU, talking with the doctors and nurses.  It seemed we were privy to all their conversations about Mason and certainly part of the decision-making about his care.  I was thrilled to be able to breastfeed him, and the nurses respected our decision not to supplement his feedings with formula.  We were pretty anxious to bring Mason home by the time I was ready to be discharged, and since his condition was gradually improving (as well as his breathing and weight gain) this looked like a strong possibility.

The first night we were home with Mason a new reality set in.  We now had to care for him without the help of nurses and doctors.  What if something went wrong?  What if he had trouble breathing?  Reinforcements came for a week in the form of grandparents.  As first-time parents, I think we were a little nervous anyway about this tiny, delicate baby, who somehow seemed slightly more fragile in light of his pneumothorax.  We had a couple of additional pediatric appointments in the first month as a precaution, and everything checked out fine.  Now that it’s winter in Vermont, Mason has had his first cold (and second and third), and I quietly worry if somehow this will prompt a reoccurrence of his pneumothorax.  Medically speaking, I don’t think that’s how it would happen, but each time I hear him cough I fear it anyway.

We absolutely love being Mason’s mom and dad.  We are grateful for all the people who have helped us adjust to parenthood these last few months.  His entry into this world made our learning curve a little bit steeper, but with it has come a new respect and better appreciation for all parents, and especially our parents.  I guess it’s only natural that we couldn’t really understand what it meant to be parents until we became parents, but now that we do, we’re part of that very special club.  I also believe now more than ever how important support is, in whatever form that takes, from family, friends, and the professionals that help us care for our children because we shouldn’t have to do it alone. 

from Late Winter 2003 Newsletter
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