My first 18 hours of motherhood took a twist I didn’t see coming. It quickly became apparent that Caliyah wouldn’t just be going to Seattle Children’s Hospital for a few tests, as we initially thought. The doctors at SCH kept saying to my husband that “ she would be there for a while.” You might be thinking like myself, what does a for awhile mean? Days, weeks, months, well at 99 days, she left the NICU, but we are still looking for our discharge answer to that question.

Caliyah and Rome headed to SCH, and I tried to focus on my healing. My first act of self-care as a mother. I was trying to heal my body, so I could have the strength to get to my daughter. I stayed in the hospital getting checked on by multiple doctors every 30 minutes, texting Rome to get updates on Caliyah while trying to pump milk for the first time. I was trying to wrap my head around that this was supposed to be a joyous moment, but I was so sad. I am so thankful my mom stayed with me that night, she slept on the small couch in my room; her presence was so comforting. On the first night as a family of three, we were separated, and it was so hard to process.

That night I was exhausted, but the sound of the crying baby next door kept me up. At that moment, I was sad I didn't have my baby keeping me up. I kept thinking about those few seconds, I heard her cry and missing that sound so bad. Little did I know that would be the last time I heard her cry or make a noise for a while. Over the next few hours, I would wake up every 2 hrs to pump and then finally got a text from my husband at 2:40 am that they got him a room at SCH, and he was settling in. When he first arrived, all the rooms were full, and they don't allow parents to sleep in the NICU. He was going to drive to UW, but they said I could only have one person with me, and my mom was with me.

By this point, the doctors gave her an assessment and confirmed she had Pfeiffer Syndrome. This news wasn't shocking; it was more like a weight lifted off our shoulders; finally, we had an answer. It was now time to figure out how severe it was, thoroughly understand her needs, and put together a plan. The doctors shared I could stay an extra night, but I was approaching 15 hours from delivery, and being discharged was the only thing on my mind. I felt immense separation anxiety. I carried Caliyah for 39 weeks, and being so far from her was taking an emotional toll on me, I felt like a piece of me was missing.

At 16hrs, I was discharged from the hospital. My parents came to my room, got me packed up, and wheeled me out to the car. I was so thankful to have them there to care for me while my husband cared for Caliyah. Luckily, the hospital was only a 5-minute drive away. We parked, and that was when it hit me, girl, you just had a whole baby! Walking hurt so badly, I was so winded after only taking a few steps. The thought crept in my mind that maybe I pushed myself too hard, but I was determined to get to my daughter.

At the 18hr mark, I was finally reunited with my new family. All I wanted to do was hold her, tell her everything would be okay, and shower her with love. I didn’t realize how much those early hours started some intense post-traumatic stress and extreme anxiety. I felt so guilty that I wasn’t with her on her first night in this world. I had been her security blanket for 39 weeks, and I left her. So thankful her dad was right by her side, but for some reason, it didn’t make me feel less guilty. That first kangaroo care was so emotional and healing at once. Feeling her skin on mine, hearing her heartbeat, seeing how calm she felt in my arms was exactly what I needed to get my first smile out. Caliyah’s touch saved me.

We had moments of peace before we were hit with more tough news as doctors started to share the seriousness of her health complications. These first days were the beginning of my postpartum depression creeping in, as much as I tried to fight it off, I couldn’t get rid of those feelings. We spent the next two weeks adapting again, getting used to being NICU parents, and trying to find some normalcy with being in the hospital for 10 hrs a day.