a quick-like plan
She looked like a character from Rocky and Bullwinkle with her tiny gray goggles.
I called her my squirrel.
Let’s be honest. No one – myself included – wants to hear any of the special details reserved only for birthing stories. All you need to know is that when Olivia entered this world, she was strong, healthy, beautiful,
and seven pounds of something I wanted to pick up and throw out the nearest window.
What?
Wrong reaction? Well, none of it felt right. I barely knew this tiny, wrinkled stranger and I was supposed to let her do WHAT with my boobs?
I needed a plan. Quick-like. My survival was to make one small decision at a time.
A) pull the nearest fire alarm. risky.
B) push this thing back in. painful.
C) learn to feed it. keep it alive. it’s the right thing to do.
I was in doubt. When in doubt, choose C.
Somehow we got through the first night, oh miracle of miracles. These things sleep a lot, who knew?
But then, she turned yellow.
It happened so fast that the doctors opted to treat her aggressively. It shouldn’t happen so fast. That’s what I think they kept telling me.
With little warning, our shoebox room was overtaken by a behemoth of a box.
A clear, plastic “bili box.” It’s a type of light therapy for babies with jaundice, but all I could see was the way it swallowed my squirrel whole.
She was splayed out like a frog in science class. Nothing to protect her but a tiny diaper
and her gray goggles.
There was a small, round hole at the side of the box that we could reach through to touch her, but we couldn’t take her out. She was sequestered to a baby tanning bed which would have been the stuff of a great joke if the joke hadn’t been on her.
How do you console a brand new life that is flailing around, blindly grasping and kicking for the soothing comfort of a swaddle?
That second night was unbearable. The screaming. Oh, the screaming. Of strong, healthy, beautiful lungs.
I needed a plan. Quick-like.
I eased my tired self out of bed and unfolded the metal chair from behind our door.
Lowering myself down, I tested the strength of my legs, the courage of my mind, and the pain of new wounds.
I scooted myself and that metal folding chair as close to her box as I could and let the warmth of the healing lights take me for just
a moment.
With the care of someone with no clue what to do next, I twisted my arm through that small, round hole at the side of the box and placed my pinky finger into her tiny, desperate mouth.
I was shouting so loudly inside I couldn’t tell if the words were coming from my own mouth or my head
I AM A MOTHER RIGHT NOW!
And I hoped my heart wouldn’t wake the baby.
Game over man! That is beautiful. Beautiful. Crying at work beautiful.
Oh wow, thank you so much. That is such a huge compliment! This sure brought up a lot of emotions and memories.
Oh God, I have been there with our middle son. It is scary and sad and you described it perfectly!
So many emotions and reminders of the past come up when I read this, and I think that’s proof that you did a great job.
Oh Dawn! So sorry you had to go through this, too. I know we were so lucky that we didn’t have to go through something MUCH worse but in the moment, I was so overwhelmed. I’m glad I didn’t throw her out the window, though, because she has really worked out nicely! ha ha Thank you for your kind words, and for stopping by!
So lovely and full of motherly love!
Thank you so much.
Lovely story full of tenderness. Ellen
Thank you so much, Ellen, fellow mama.
ack poor little itty bitty Olivia and poor Mama having to see that! love the emotion here. oh and love your new look (blog).
Thank you so much! I was nervous about switching over to self-hosted but I think it’s working out (with a lot of help from my friends!
Thanks for your kind words and for stopping by.
Very well written, Melisa! I can surely relate.
Thank you, Diane! I know you went through much MUCH more … but we were all new mamas just trying to find our way. See you soon, girl!!!
One of my twins was just jaundiced enough that she had to sleep on a bili box at home her second night. Thankfully, she was the better sleeper of the two of them, but I spent the night on the floor curled around the box so that she didn’t fall off. Not so much fun after just having twins…
Loved this post, mama!
Oh wow, thank you for sharing that! I don’t know how mamas of multiples do it. Thanks for the correct spelling on “bili box” as well! I’ve updated my post.
I was saying F bombs the whole way through. The scary story and the beautiful descriptions. And, of course, the courageous honesty. This is a great post. I loved last week’s so much and this week’s is even better. Those billy boxes are intimidating.
Christie! There you are, in spam, dammit! Thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful words. It was really an experience to re-live this.
Is this working?
Yes indeedy!
This is a brilliant post, Melisa. Great blend of funny and heart. You rock.
Oh Erin, thank you so much! That means a lot to me.
Excellent, Melissa! The last line is chilling, in the best way. And bless you a thousand times for sparing us the birthing details; I’m still busy trying to forget my own!
Ha ha – thanks, Louise! I’m here for ya!
Aww such a gorgeous piece. My kids never needed light treatment but two of them ended up in the NICU so I kinda understand the overwhelming aspect of it all. Trying to get used to having a newborn plus all the extra stuff on top of it, can be so hard!!
She looks just so freakin cute though.
Great post!
Thank you so much for your kind words! Whatever we faced, big or small, was relative to us and our new-mama-ness … oh, to look back on those days! Thanks again.
What a beautiful post. You touched on some raw emotions there. I can totally relate to your apprehensive initial feelings to motherhood. While I felt in love with the idea of motherhood, I didn’t really love being a mother until I had been one for some time. I noticed that you switched to self-hosted – I am doing that later this week. Any advice?
Thank you so much for stopping by, Christie! I really appreciate your kind words. Re: self-hosted, I would say that the biggest things I’ve learned are to make sure you have a clear understanding of how things are going to transfer over (for example, my followers that I worked so hard to acquire were “gone” there for awhile and I spent most of Sunday curled up in the fetal position). BUT everything is ok in the end and it just took some sleuthing around on WP forums to figure out the solution. Are you on WP? The bummer is that they have NO actual live person to talk to, but their forums are GREAT. Good luck to you!!
Although a wonderful foreskin cutter-off-er, the old school hospital pediatrician didn’t know much about birthin’ no biracial babies and their skin tone, so with one look at my dark brown sexy self, he was ordering tests for jaundice like it was newborn Ehren’s last day at Normandy. The nurse to me: Didja tell the doctor your husband is white? Me: I didn’t have the heart. Let the man do his thing in peace.
Oh lord, you are funny. I can just imagine this scene! Thanks for bringing your story to the table – and for stopping by! The support you’ve created with yeah write is really beyond words. THANK YOU a thousand times over.
Hahahaha! I didn’t know the difference between Noah and regular white kids until my translucent nephew was born. A lightbulb went off. Wow! There IS a difference.
Ha – so funny! After being yellow, Olivia turned see-through. Her doctor would say, “WOW! I can see ALL her veins!”
“I was shouting so loudly inside I couldn’t tell if the words were coming from my own mouth or my head
I AM A MOTHER RIGHT NOW!”
I got chills. This is a stunning piece.
What an incredibly beautiful post Melisa! Your voice keeps getting stronger each week I read. I just love it. You NAILED the tension but left all the heart I am used to in your pieces.
I was thinking about sitting this week out but your post inspired me to go deep. Thank you so much.
Oh Carinn, this comment means so much to me! I am so touched by your words, and that I could someone be part of you wanting to post this week. So glad you did – it was wonderful! Thank YOU so much…
What a beautiful, moving post! I was in tears at the end. Well done, mama.
Love, love, love this line:
“And I hoped my heart wouldn’t wake the baby.”
Thank you so much! I appreciate so much you stopping by.
As if being a new mom isn’t hard and scary and overwhelming enough. Oh my heart breaks for what you had to go through. Not being able to hold your baby RIGHT THERE is enough to cause delirium.
Oh Kim, thank you so much. I know that others have gone through SO MUCH MORE but in the moment it just felt totally unbearable.
What a gripping account of what we go through, as mothers, when our children are suffering. I could feel how much you wanted to crawl in that bili box with your baby and make everything alright. Great post. Well done.
Thank you so very much. That is the truth, mama. Appreciate you stopping by.
Very honest and touching. I loved this!
Thank you!
I didn’t bond with Caroline right away, either, so your acknowledgement brought me into the story right away. I like the Mamas like me who didn’t know what to do with that thing. (And I love the squirrel nickname). I was SO proud of you for thinking to stick your finger in her mouth. How long did she have to be in that box?
Thank you so much, Jester Queen! She was in the box for another day at the hospital and then a nurse met us at our house when we were discharged. She had to be in an in-home box for another 2 days (which was a MUCH easier box to deal with!). Thank you for stopping by and for your kind words!
You do tell these stories well bc I already experienced it all with you and it was like hearing it for the first time and made me wish I had squeezed the cheeks sooner. (Ladies, I learned in a seminar that if you want to try and not cry – ie at work – just squeeze your butt cheeks together and it should distract you from crying). xoxo
I love you, Mom.
P.S. Do you remember when I told you that the ‘gas mask’ thing they put on me to delay your birth bc there was no Dr. there yet and you ended up getting drugged from it? I remember the nurses tip-toeing around my room when I had you in with me and your little arms moved in slow motion and finally I yelled, “What is wrong with my baby girl? What aren’t you telling me? Is there something mentally wrong with her?” My thoughts went so overboard they were relieved to tell me you were just drugged kind of by mistake. Thank goodness that was your only experience with drugs…Right??? Juuusssst Kiddin’…. xoxo
Mom, you are cracking me up! You do know that you’ve just outed me to the whole world about my former lack of judgment? Though I can’t confirm or deny, I definitely did NOT inhale!!! Love you! M2
Awesome piece this week, Melisa. So many ‘whoa’ moments but this was my favorite: “I tested the strength of my legs, the courage of my mind, and the pain of new wounds.” <– whoa. Gut-punch. Proud of you!
Thank you so much, Peach! That really means a lot. It was quite a journey to re-live this moment.
This is so real that I can feel it! You’ve captured the feeling of helplessness so well. You’re a strong mama!
I can’t possibly say anything that hasn’t already been said so I’ll just say “WOW.”
Great ending. I can perfectly recall my, “I am a mother right now!” moment. I will never forget it. I try very hard to remember it when I am being hard on myself.
I love this post! Beautifully written and oh so powerful. Great work! I’m also a “when in doubt choose C” kind of person!
Thank you so much! I really appreciate you stopping by and for your kind comments. I was JUST reading your hilarious post!!!
This might be my favorite thing I’ve read of yours yet. I loved every bit of it. We were told that if my son didn’t get less yellow quickly, we’d need the box. We were able to avoid it (we didn’t avoid all the screaming, but that’s another matter!).
And this: “Oh, the screaming. Of strong, healthy beautiful lungs.” Gave me the chills.
Oh Michelle. Thank you so much for your kind words and for taking the time to stop by. This parenting biz is not for the faint of heart!
Reading with a lump in my throat as your words take me back to my babies and their jaundice. It’s the worst feeling of helplessness.
Thank you so much! Sadly something so many new parents have to deal with, right?
What a wonderful story! It captures that new-mom-ness perfectly. My son developed jaundice after we left the hospital but it wasn’t serious like yours — they told us to keep him by a sunny window, which worked. Of course, being a very pale brown baby, I wasn’t sure how they could tell…
Oh, sunny window therapy. Love that! Wish we’d had that option in January, in Seattle.
Thanks for stopping by!
We had the bili box and you described the first nights so well! Screaming and no way to comfort. I finally just took her out and held her. I was terrified to give her a pacifier because I thought then she wouldn’t breastfeed. Never thought of a finger…clever mama!
Great post!
Thank you so much for your kind words, Liz! Sorry you went through this too. It was either the finger in her mouth or a gun to my head! (joking. mostly.)
Beautifully told! You brought tears to my eyes because we went through it with all 3 of our birth kids. They all had moderately severe jaundice and were confined to a bili-bed for most of our hospital stay. The second night was always the worst. For all of us! You took me right back to that night with your words.
Oh thank you so much, Delilah! So sorry you had to go through this as well. Thanks for taking the time to stop by.
Being a new mom is so scary! I almost accidentally killed my daughter before we even left the hospital. So many things can go wrong, it’s just mind boggling!
So glad all worked out well! You were scaring me!
What a scary beginning for your squirrel! I love this detail – so vivid amongst all the fear and anxiety of new motherhood: “She was splayed out like a frog in science class.”
My first baby’s due in 3-4 weeks and this has me both terrified yet calm if that makes sense. Looking forward to that feeling you found at the end. It sounds awesome. :’)