Newborn Care in the Hospital

Six months ago I took my marriage for granted. We were busy planning for our coming life as parents to worry about us. What would the baby need? What would we need for the baby? Had I been at my job long enough to secure my role so maternity leave wouldn’t hurt my career? I took my parents for granted, too. Of course they would be there to help with the baby.

Sometimes I don’t know I even had a plan until things don’t go according to plan.

This didn’t go according to plan.

Bed rest turned to an emergency cesarian section. Emergency surgery.

Days and nights and weeks and months in the NICU. My career and my marriage and my family were the farthest things from my mind. All I thought about was my daughter and doing everything I could to care for her. Hold her, love her, for as long as possible.

When did we start to grow apart? Was it taking shifts so our baby would never be alone? She was never alone, but my husband and I were never together.

More surgeries. Even though she was so impossibly tiny. So many nights in the NICU, wishing for what I knew would never be.

Now, six months later, I have neither daughter nor husband.

We buried her tiny casket. We hadn’t acknowledged it, but we knew our marriage had died with her. We are both alone in our grief.

G. Jackson

Written by Guest Author
The Caregiver Space accepts contributions from experts for The Caregiver's Toolbox and provides a platform for all caregivers in Caregiver Stories. Please read our author guidelines for more information and use our contact form to submit guest articles.

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