Eva was put on a ventilator once she arrived in the NICU. She was transported in an isolette, which we affectionately referred to as her spaceship. The "lid" lifted up and with the lights and alarms on the contraption, memories of Close Encounters of the Third Kind came to mind. Initially, we could only touch Eva through the portholes in her isolette. She was so tiny and looked so fragile, while at the same time being completely amazing. She was so perfect, from her amazingly long fingers to her sweet little toes. We were in total awe of her, even though it was kinda scary to see her so small and vulnerable. A roller coaster of emotions doesn't even come close to describing how we felt when we saw our little girl.
Over the course of the next couple of days, Eva was taken off of the ventilator, put on CPAP, and then moved to a nasal cannula with oxygen. Being on the ventilator and CPAP for such a short period of time is a good sign of lung development.
Miss Eva was a bit jaundiced and needed to be under the bililights. So, our little star was in the spotlight for the 2nd and 3rd day of her life. She had a little mask to protect her eyes, and that, along with the CPAP for a day or so made it quite hard to see her sweet face. It was so nice to finally see her when all of those were removed.
It was hard to only be able to be with our little girl through those holes in her isolette. We were unable to hold her and could only touch her gently. We felt really helpless as we just stood by as nurses tended to her, though everyone was more than willing to explain what they were doing and were always willing to answer questions.
We were so ready to leave the hospital and on Monday I was discharged. Calvin was ready to NOT have to sleep on the less-than-comfortable bench next to the drafty windows and I was more than ready to be back home. But as anxious as we were to get home, we knew that leaving without Eva would not be easy. This certainly wasn't the way we had imagined any of this would go.
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