Dads in the NICU

There’s a door not too far away from Labor and Delivery in most hospitals. A door just steps away from where dreams come true, families are started, grown, & completed. Ideally you’ll never see the inside of this room. Ideally you’ll leave Labor and Delivery and head to the right. You be seated in your hospital wheelchair, pushed my a morally upstanding caring nurse, with a partner or loved one by your side. Ideally you’ll have Flowers, Balloons, & a brand new Baby, in hand. But sometimes, for one reason or another, things don’t go according to plan. Sometimes when leaving labor & Delivery, instead of going right, you’re forced to make a left. Left towards a room that is so close and yet so emotionally far removed from the other.

My Daughter January Reign Clinkscale was born last week, and her, my wife, and I made that left. This is not a story about what landed us in that room, so i’ll spoil the ending. Everyone is doing fine (physically). This is about what happens to US in that room. Men. What happened to me, and what I think happens in one way or another to most Dads in the NICU.

The Calm Before The Storm(y) SEA-Section

We don’t often talk about the role of a man during and post baby delivery. In the- not too distant- past his role was non existent. Just show up (if you weren’t away at work, or war, or hunting for food) and wait outside until someone told you congrats. Well, times have changed. Today most of the men that I know are hand in hand from the pregnancy test, all the way through cutting the umbilical cord. I was this way for both of my wife’s pregnancies.

From the beginning this go ‘round was far different than the first. My wife was uncomfortable, didn't feel well, and was just pretty miserable overall. We also “did” a lot this time. Not the least of which was moving across the country, starting new jobs etc.

At one of her appointments the doctor told us that “because of the way things were going”, she recommended we consider delivery via C-Section. There were a bunch of good reasons she had, and medical jargon that I won’t bore you with, but ultimately, after a lot of thought, we agreed.

Psychic Baby Babble

Our Delivery date was scheduled for Thursday, July 13. The Sunday prior (July 9th) my 2 year old daughter woke up and said “Happy Birthday Baby Sister!” We explained to her that her baby sister was coming on Thursday, not today. Four hours later my wife was in the hospital, 5 cm dilated! No pain, not feeling any of the contractions. January was coming and she was not waiting on us. There was a moment in the process of my grabbing clothes, getting Olive over to family, and getting to the hospital where my wife and I discussed pushing. I mean her body was doing the work. Labor was happening. But the original concerns still lingered, so we stayed the course. In another letter we can discuss the hospitals/Dr’s and their push for operations vs “natural” births, and why we ultimately chose the c-section, but for today… it was time.

Be Strength, Be Light, Be Love, Be Lite

When your holding the hand of the woman you love as strangers cut into her, you have to show up in whatever way she needs you to. For us that looked like being a soft rock. I’m steady. I’m joking. Im making her laugh and comfortable. But I’m aware. Vigilant. Everyone’s well being is in my hands, and she feels safe here. Luckily I’ve been this for her before. I feel like to some degree I am always this In our marriage. So here, now, at her side I just needed to turn it up.

“I may be going home alone.”

Life Changing. Then changing again.

Suddenly there she was. January Reign Clinkscale. Screaming, crying, 10 fingers, 10 toes, all 4 limbs full extended. Then suddenly the light switched off. The tiniest body you’ve ever seen, my baby. went limp, and the room went quiet. I wanted to run to her but I couldn’t. I know better that to get in the way when every second is precious. I wanted to cry out but my wife who couldn’t see any of what was going on was taking her cues from my face. No matter how strong and light I tried to keep it, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down. As I’m watching nurses fight to save my everything, my wife’s condition started rapidly declining. Her blood pressure was headed in the wrong direction quickly, and she said she could feel the spinal tap creeping up towards her neck. The anesthesiologist, who was just a moment ago trying to reassure me, started moving with a quiet panic.

“Dad, you want to follow your baby to the NICU?”

This is the moment I think I broke. I looked at my wife. They both need me. Death is flirting with both of them. She told me to go. On the walk over I was very cognizant that she may not be there when I got back. My daughter may not be there either. I may be going home alone.

That night, walking back and forth between the two rooms, was the longest night of my life. Where was I? Was this really happening? How close was the danger still?

The next day I picked up my oldest from school. When she asked where mommy was, it was all I could do not to completely break in front of her. Later I would fail at this. I had to cut my goodnight routine short because it was coming. My smile stayed, but my eyes betrayed me. All I could think was how easily it could have been just her and I. How could I explain that to her?

My next four days looked like: Spend the night at the hospital. Wake up, get home and take Olive to school. Go back, and spend the day at the hospital, pick Olive up and repeat. All the while keeping it together in front of all the people that needed to see me together. I did. But in the quiet moments I found myself bursting into to random bouts of crying. While doing the most mundane of things. Ordering food, doing laundry, during a tv commercial. If I had 5 free mins, my body knew and the dam had to release the pressure.

The Fine Print

I believe your job as the person responsible for the safety of your family is never more tried than in a hospital. A place where your only fight is to advocate, to show up with positivity and strength when you are puddling and at your weakest. Where fists or cunning or smarts are of no use. But we do it. Hopefully you had role models to show you how. If you did not, no worries, neither did I. Good new is, its innate. Is already in you.

Gratitude

I’m so thankful that as I write this all my girls are home and doing well. In time I’ll have to work on fixing myself. My brain does this thing where it forgets (or locks away) all of the really painful things that have happened in my life. Even now a week later, I can feel bits of this ordeal being tucked away. I am notoriously a person who scoots past feeling things for the sake of moving forward. In my childhood that was a trait born out of necessity. Now as an adult, it’s a habit. Step 1, is probably talking about the trauma, and PTSD that is showing up in ways we’ll talk about in future letters. What I do know is that writing this to you is a good start.

I think I feel a cry coming on.

If you or a loved one are struggling with feelings of depression or anxiety, remember that you are not alone, and there are resources available to you. Reach out to your healthcare provider, or consider these options:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – Call 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255)

Crisis Text Line – Text HOME to 741741

Postpartum Support International – Call or Text 1-800-944-4773

Father's Mental Health Network - Offers resources and support specifically for fathers

These are challenging times, and it's okay to seek help. It's okay to lean on others. You're doing the best you can, and that's enough.

If this help helped you in any way of you think it will help someone else, Please Share.

And so, fellow villagers, the journey continues. The story of January is just beginning, and I am honored to have you alongside us as it unfolds. The road started rocky, but we travel it together, learning and growing at every turn.

In our next edition, look forward to some lighter fare as we navigate "First Week Home With Baby #2" and "Juggling Toddler and Newborn Demands". It promises to be a wild ride!

Till then, remember, it takes a village. Be kind to yourself, reach out when you need to, and never forget, we're in this together.

Stay strong,

CPO- Andrew