When I woke up in the morning I felt ready to face another day. It was Saturday the 14th. We had made it past Friday the 13th so maybe our luck was changing. Today was the NICU class that was going to prepare us for the long road ahead. I was looking forward to it and feeling like I was actually doing something besides sitting around and worrying. I looked at the clock, it was already 6:30 and we hadn’t started my monitoring yet. I had to be on the monitor for two hours so we needed to start soon if I was going to make it to the class by the 9:00 start. I rang for my nurse. She arrived just after 7 and we got things going. She introduced herself and updated my whiteboard: 26+2, we had made it another day. The Maternal-Fetal Medicine team was even kind enough to round on me first thing in the morning so that I could make it to class. They reviewed baby’s activity and my vital signs then gave me the green light to go to class. We were so rushed and I had already been so used to being stuck in bed that I didn’t even bother to put on shoes before getting in my wheelchair and being pushed downstairs.

Even with all of our hustling we arrived to class a few minutes late. The group had already gotten started and introduced themselves and we were invited to do the same. I said my name and that was about all I could get out before the tears began to build. It was suddenly too real and too overwhelming to explain why we were there. Travis did the talking for the both of us. The instructor welcomed us and then jumped into the course material. I sat attentively, ready to learn. I decided that since I couldn’t change what was happening that I was at least going to be prepared. I was going to learn everything I possibly could about my future with a baby in the NICU. I was going to be cool, calm, and collected. I was going to be the most amazing mom the NICU had ever seen when my tiny baby arrived. I was excited to meet my baby and excited to rise to the challenge of the NICU. I was ready to take on the world. In reality I could barely hold it together for five minutes because the more I learned about what was in store for us the more my mind wandered.

If our baby was born now it would be in the the NICU for at least three months, but if I stayed pregnant we would still be stuck in the hospital three more months. Either way we were stuck in Denver, away from our home and community for at least three months. And what about Logan? Who was going to take care of him? How could I be apart from him? Would he feel neglected? Would he cry for me? Would he remember any of this? Was it fair to disrupt his entire life for a baby we hadn’t even met yet? Nothing about this was fair. The instructor was talking about care routines in the NICU and the times we would be allowed to hold our babies. The tears were flowing freely now and I couldn’t stop them. The best I could do was swallow my sobs until later.  I didn’t want to hear anymore. I wanted to quit like we did as kids. Every minute my brain came back to the same thought, “I don’t want to play this game anymore.” The instructor handed me a box of tissues. I had become THAT lady, the class crier. Our 15 minute break could not have come soon enough.

Travis wheeled me to the ladies room where I spent a few minutes in the single stall bathroom crying by myself before splashing some water on my face until I felt I had gained enough composure to rejoin the group. We returned to the room to see some new faces. A panel of parents had arrived to tell us about their experiences with their children in the NICU and to offer words of encouragement and advice. One of the moms talked about how she went back to work while her baby was still in the hospital so she could save her FMLA time for when he was finally home. Hearing that made me sick and broke my heart. It was also the first time I thought about my job. I was going to be gone for three months! They could legally fire me if they wanted to but that was the only problem that seemed to have an easy solution. “Fuck it, I’ll quit,” I thought. Problem solved. Nothing was going to keep me from taking care of my tiny baby. Another mom talked about how important it was to take care of yourself when you have a baby in the NICU. This was her first baby and she told us how she had made it a priority to get her hair done every other week so she could feel human. I panicked a little hearing that. I already have one perfectly healthy kid and I haven’t had a haircut in 10 months! What am I going to look like after a baby in the NICU?! Overall, I didn’t find much comfort in what they said or feel like it was very helpful. Both of their babies had similar conditions that were treatable. Compared to me I felt like they were lucky. They kept talking about the difficulties we would face with having a baby in the NICU and all I could think in response was, IF we make it to the NICU. All the other families were fairly certain they were going to have a baby in the NICU and here we were hoping for a baby in the NICU. Their horrible experience was our best case scenario.

The one thing that did resonate with me was the NICU mothers’ experience with using donated breast milk. Both of them needed the help of donor milk and they were so grateful it was available. I smiled to myself. When I was nursing Logan I was blessed enough to be a milk donor. Logan and I donated 274 ounces to the same milk bank that provides for this hospital and though I never expected anything in return, I felt like I had Karma on my side. Then one of the little boys came in to the room to sit with his mother and I saw he was about 6 months younger than Logan. It was completely plausible that he had been given my milk.  I looked at him and felt a sense of calm. This had to be a sign that the universe was going to take care of us. Just as I had provided for this stranger’s child someone or something else was going to provide for mine.

After another break a neonatologist stopped in to casually say hi and introduce himself. Then he wanted to go around the room and have everyone share what concerns they still had about NICU. I looked around. “Oh god!” I thought. Travis wasn’t back from the bathroom and he was looking right at me! No! “Just take a deep breath,” I told myself, “you can do this.” But all I kept thinking was that my main concern was that we weren’t even going to make it to the NICU, or maybe that we were. I didn’t know what to hope for anymore. I hid behind my tissue and mumbled around my tears that I couldn’t answer and he should go on. He looked pretty terrified that he had just upset me and made me cry. My assumption was further evidenced by the fact that he didn’t ask anyone else after me. I told Travis about it later. We laughed as I described the horrified look on his face. I told him I wished he was there because he could have spoken for us, and he just laughed. He had taken so long in the bathroom because he too was crying and trying to compose himself. We both had a good laugh at ourselves. The crying couple that can’t even keep their shit together in a NICU class.

Our last speaker was a psychologist on staff who discussed grief and how to get through it as a couple. I learned she made visits to inpatients on Thursday and asked that she come see me that week to talk. One thing I was sure of, whatever happened I would need some serious therapy after this. We ended the day with a tour of the NICU and we were very impressed with the facilities. If we had a baby here we knew we would be in good hands.

We left the class and headed back to my room feeling hopeful and prepared for our future. While we were wheeling down the hallway I got excited again thinking about how well we would all do in the NICU. We rolled into the elevator and I thought about what a long road we had ahead of us, and as the elevator doors opened on my floor I wondered if we would ever have a baby in the NICU. Travis wheeled me down the hallway and I started wondering if I even wanted us to make it to the NICU. And as we entered my room and I saw my bed, all I could think was, “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”