A New NICU Normal – Our Birth Story

Lauren March 19, 2025

Today I’m mourning…not having had that ‘golden hour’ experience.

Today is a year from the day I gave birth. I’d say from the day I became a mom, but in my opinion that actually happens well before childbirth. Either way, it makes you start thinking about the beginning.

I think it’s safe to assume that when preparing for childbirth, most moms develop a ‘birth plan’. Now, a lot of us know you can’t actually control how and when your baby decides to evacuate the womb, but for most of us, it feels good to at least have some plan of action. I was one of those people. I had my plans, but I was also resolved to have a ‘go with the flow’ mentality. I was not, in any way, shape, or form, prepared to have a NICU baby.

At just before 35 weeks, I was diagnosed with Cholestasis, a pregnancy complication where essentially elevated levels of bile acids in mom’s blood can potentially stress baby’s liver and may lead to fetal distress, where baby isn’t getting enough oxygen. This increases the risk of preterm birth, meconium in the amniotic fluid (which can lead to breathing problems), and potentially stillbirth. Which is all super scary. Because of this, I was encouraged to deliver early and after refusing induction (I know my body tyvm), I scheduled a c-section for just past 36 weeks.

During surgery prep they asked if I’d like to put baby on my chest once he was out, and of course, I said yes. I wanted that golden hour with him, to bond and revel in the first minutes and hours of being a mom. But once baby was out, they took him to do whatever they do, and minute after minute went by, what felt like forever, before a nurse popped her head out from behind the curtain and informed us that they were going to have to take him down to the NICU because he was having trouble breathing on his own. They handed me my child, clad in a blanket and oxygen mask, for all of 30 seconds before telling my husband he could accompany them and our baby down to the NICU.

Within a few seconds I found myself left in the operating room alone, super drugged up, and very emotional, trying to process everything that had happened in the last 10 minutes. After being stitched up, I was wheeled down to post op where the nurse kindly asked if I needed anything. All I knew was that I wanted to be left alone so that I could cry out the ton of emotions bursting at the seams inside me. I can’t really put into words the feeling of carrying a child for 36 weeks and then having them ‘taken away’ when you’re expecting to have that initial bonding time. And it’s not beyond me that they were making sure he was taken care of medically, and saving his life, but the surging hormones sure made it feel like I’d done something wrong, and was missing out on that crucial time.

The next few hours turned into 6 days and it never got any easier on an emotional level. Having to pump every 3 hours to make sure my milk supply came in, explaining to the lactation consultants on the phone that I couldn’t put my baby on my chest because he wasn’t there with me, feeling guilty for choosing sleep over going down to the NICU to visit my baby, making my husband stay at the hospital for a few extra nights with me because I didn’t want to be discharged without my baby…there was no shortage of things making me feel all the feels. But mostly I felt guilty that I was relieved to have the help of the NICU nurses, knowing that my baby was being taken care of by someone who was way more qualified than myself for the first few days of his life.

I know I’ll never get those first few moments back, and I think part of me will always be disappointed that I didn’t get to have a ‘normal’ childbirth experience with my baby. A part of me will always be disappointed that because he went into the NICU I didn’t get that golden hour, I didn’t get to breastfeed, and we didn’t get to leave the hospital as a family. But a bigger part of me is so proud of us. So proud that my little boy was such a fighter, so resilient. It’s amazing that in those first few hours and first few days, that little boy taught me so much about how strong I could be, physically and emotionally, and that there is always something to be grateful for. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Cheers ☕️

P.S. for those of you who are interested, here’s a few things I packed in my hospital bag that I actually used:

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