Dear Paxton,

Several people came to visit you in the hospital.  Your grandparents were there, as well as your Aunt Jodi, Uncle Steve, Ben and Kim, TJ and Bethany, Jen Workman, and Ashley Taylor.  We were hoping to go home as quick as we could, but I couldn’t go to the bathroom, and required another catheter (and then another one after that…long story).  We were sent home Friday afternoon.  It was beautiful outside (especially for January), and we were excited to start our lives as a family of 3.  We were told to bring you back to the hospital the next morning to have your biliruben levels checked again.  You were slightly jaundiced, and they wanted to make sure you were gaining weight and getting it out of your system.  I had known all along that I wanted to breastfeed, but it was not an easy start.  I worried you weren’t getting what you needed, and that made me feel incredibly anxious.

Jersey had gone to stay with Grammy and Pops while we were in the hospital.  I was excited for her to meet you, because she was very interested in the whole process.  She often laid her head on my belly and you would respond by kicking her.  I knew you would be the best of friends.

Night number 1 was a disaster.  I had nothing left in my reserves, but we took turns rocking/bouncing/feeding/staring at you while you didn’t sleep.  I needed an owner’s manual, because I was lost.  The next morning we got you loaded up for a quick biliruben check, or so we thought.

I sent this picture to your Grammy when we got to the hospital.

I had no idea how “yellow” you were until I looked back on this.  We handed you over for a blood draw.  Your little feet had so many pricks in them.  In the waiting room, we talked to a couple that we had met in one of our parenting classes at the hospital.  Their little girl also had jaundice and they had to have a special light blanket on her at home. In my mind, that was the worst case scenario of the day.  And then the nurse asked us to come back.  Gulp.

Your levels had more than doubled.  You needed to be admitted.  Words like “NICU, phototherapy, neonatologist, and transferring” started getting thrown around.  Gulp.  You were new, and you were mine.  You weren’t supposed to be going anywhere except home.  They called over to St. John’s to get you in at the NICU.  It was full.  They decided to admit you back into Memorial and have the neonatologists come over and treat you there.  Your dad and I were put in a room forever away from you, but we were so thankful that we could stay.  We were told you would be there for at least 24 hours, then they would recheck and decide if you needed another day. They put you under the special phototherapy lights and we were allowed to see you/hold you/feed you every three hours.

This was the hardest 24 hours of my life.  I know that it could be so much worse and I had a healthy baby girl who was going to be fine.  Yet, somehow I couldn’t get past the “you can hold her every three hours” thing.  I was supposed to be able to hold you anytime I wanted.  I’d held you for 9 months.  I spent A LOT of time crying.  Your dad went home and got clothes for us and my medicine.  They recommended that I sleep as much as I could in the time that you were in the nursery.  They would call our room every 3 hours to see if I wanted to come down.  Are you kidding me?  Do people ever say no?  The walk to the nursery took a long time for me, as I wasn’t in great shape from the delivery.  We would hold you, I would try to feed you, and then they would have me pump.  Eventually, we had to give you a little bit of formula, because I wasn’t producing enough.  It was heartbreaking.  Not that it was poison, or it was going to hurt you, but because my body wasn’t giving you what you needed.  I was consumed with guilt.  I felt like I was failing you at my very first job as your mother.

You started to really improve, and it was amazing to see your color change.  You had some pretty great tan lines from your sunglasses.  And those cheeks, oh how I love those cheeks.  I started calling you “Cheeks” from the second day I’ve known you.  I’ll probably stop eventually, maybe when you get in high school.

You got down to 6 lbs 12 oz at one point, but started to slowly gain a little weight.  We were sent home after talking to the neonatologist and had an appointment with your pediatrician on Monday.  I felt like we were never going to have a day at home.  We got released and they asked if we’d been outside.  Of course not, crazy people, why?  Apparently there had been an ice storm of sorts and our car was frozen solid.  It was 56 the first time we got discharged…and now it was FREEZING?  I had flip-flops on, mostly because nothing else fit on these feet…

They made me put on some of those hospital socks because of the weather, but when the nurse looked at my feet she said, “I hope we have some that will fit those bad boys.”  After waiting another 30 minutes (while your dad scraped off our car with a credit card), we were on our way home for the second time.

Grammy and Pops came over and brought Jersey.  She was pretty unimpressed by you.  Things kind of fell into place.  I continued to feed you and pump, and eventually we were in business.

On Monday, we headed to your appointment and it was great news.  You were back up to 7 pounds and your color was so good that they didn’t even prick you again to check your biliruben levels!  We were asked to come back on Friday for a weight check until you made it back to your birth weight.  You were such a little thing in your car seat.

On Friday, you were back to your birth weight and we didn’t have to come back until your one-month appointment.  Now it was time to get to know you and figure you out.  And it was time to hold you….whenever I wanted.

I love you,

Your mom.