I Believe In Hope

After a long 28 day stay in the high risk pregnancy floor of the hospital, I gave birth to a 1 pound baby girl. She was tiny and purple. I could see through her skin and when the doctor delivered her by Cesarean section, I got a quick glance of her and my jaw dropped. I uttered, “Oh, my goodness.” I knew she’d be tiny and I thought I was prepared for that. I was wrong.

The next morning I was able to shower and as I was getting dressed the phone in my hospital room rang. It was the neonatologist who had examined Marissa that morning. He said he wanted to be very honest with me. He told me she had less than a 50% chance of surviving as she was labeled a micro-preemie and her lungs were very underdeveloped. He told me, “It doesn’t look good.” I sat on my hospital bed and cried. After all I did to stay pregnant in that hospital bed and now such devastating news. I refused to hear such negativity. I believe in not giving up hope.

Many week passed by and Marissa was still alive. She had a successful heart surgery when she was 2 pounds and was eventually taken off the ventilator and put on oxygen. There were so many doctors taking care of her and they were wonderful. They were saving her life. She had many up and downs for the first month. She developed pneumonia and was put back on the ventilator for a while but overcame it. She had a bacterial stomach infection and was taken off her breast milk tube feedings for a week. There were so many up and downs but I refused to hear any negativity. I stayed hopeful.

Three months had passed and at 4 pounds she was ready to learn to suck from a bottle nipple. In order to go home she had to drink from a bottle, keep her temperature, and be growing. I got to help with her first feeding and it wasn’t successful. Her oxygen levels went down and she choked throughout the bottle. The doctors were ready to put a permanent feeding tube in her. I went home that night and cried. I never went to sleep.

The next few days I got nothing but bad news from doctors and nurses. She wasn’t taking her bottles well at all and they had to feed her by nose tube most of the time. I was determined I could take the time to teach her to eat. I stayed with her day and night. I held her so her head was sideways. The nurses told the doctors, “Mom has her own way of feeding her and it works.” She was soon drinking her full 2 ounces.

One Saturday morning I had a call saying she could come home. My husband and I rushed to pick her up. As I carried her car seat through the NICU doors I knew how important hope was.