The long corridor where I waited was freezing cold, and that fueled my anxiety further. I find myself either pacing up and down the corridor or sitting in the corner, hugging my bag and praying - on both situation, eyes glued on the operating theater exits.
There were lots of human traffic, patients being reeled in, nurses tagging in and out, equipment deliveries, resupply and so on. As my disappointment escalated after an hour plus of waiting, a familiar face appeared. 'Daddy, come!', the nurse's voice echoed with excitement. I sprinted towards her and as I laid eyes on baby Ning for the first time, I was overwhelmed with a hundred and one emotions.
Joy, fear, excitement, concern, awkward, anxiety, bedazzlement, confusion, just to name a few. But the one that stood out was uncertainty, as I wasn't sure what's next then.
But the emotional 'flood' was quickly cut short with the appearance of a doctor in full surgical garb, a familiar looking face, reaching out to me. Our introduction was cut short as the pediatrician rushed through the status updates - the OB-GYN is 'patching up' the wife, baby has discharged (in laymen term, shit) inside the womb and it was most fortunate we made that decision quickly, then showed me pictures of the umbilical cord and finally shooed myself and the nurse back to the labor for the subsequent procedures, all of that in the blink of an eye as the pediatrician returned into the operating theater.
With the nurse, we literally ran back to the labor room as she explained the next procedure, which is to 'suck' the remaining fluid out of her system ASAP and I am to proceed with her admission. As baby was reeled into the procedure room which I was prohibited from entering (bahhhhhh), the nurse over the counter passed me a slip which contains details such as her birth date and time, weight as well as overall length. As I studied the details, I pitied the wife as it was very obvious the baby took after my size. 'Head to the ground floor and complete baby's admission, then come back and return me the slip', she said.
I was on auto pilot again and the next thing I know, I was back in labor room as the counter nurse advised, 'Alright, daddy can return to the operating theater to wait for mummy, baby will be sent to nursery after clean up'.
I was back at the long corridor, mind still cloudy. It was another half and hour before the anesthetist exited, introduced himself and provided me further updates. 'All went well, the wife should be out soon', he said and it wasn't another 30 minutes that the wife, still dazed from anesthetics, was reeled back to her room. At this point of time, as I breathe a sigh of relief, it felt that the morning ordeal was finally over.
I could never be more wrong. Note - present me is also trying hard to recall the sequence of events.
I was tending the wife when the pediatrician called for my presence and once I made my way to the nurse's counter where she was standing, she began her briefing on the diagnosis. As noticed earlier post birth, there were discharge matters all over the baby's body and these are basically meconium. Unfortunately, since meconium was present in the amniotic fluid, it manage to enter her lungs as well, leading to a condition known as meconium aspiration syndrome (MAS) - you can read more about it by clicking the hyperlinks.
And the root cause?
Could very much be due to fetal distress, inline with the irregular heartbeat observed during contractions earlier this morning. As to what caused the distress, that would require further investigation on the lab results and chronology of events. 'But at present', as the pediatrician directed my attention to the X-ray image of baby Ning taken earlier, she pointed out the cloudy strands all over her lungs, 'There's not much of it present, so it's considered minor. We've started her on supplementary oxygen to ease the baby's breathing because without it, she would expend most of her energy into rapid breathing, resulting exhaustion and fatigue, which may lead to her rejecting feeding. And we wouldn't want that'.
'We'll just need to monitor her breathing for now, to make sure she's getting enough oxygen concentration. Follow me', as she gestured me to hop along.
As we entered the nursery, I finally laid eyes on baby Ning again. A nasal tube was fixed below her nose with other wiring strapped to her tummy and legs, leading back to a beeping monitoring device. and some The pediatrician proceeded to explain the displays on screen, the larger numbers were oxygen concentration level, which was a little on the low side given her condition and the smaller numbers, indicating heart rate, was normal. No issues with hearing, feeding was being done via syringe and etc.
And what we can do now is to wait for her body's immune system to 'fight and clear' the meconium from her lungs, which may cause inflammation that could lead to even more rapid and heavy breathing patterns, the critical stages, in the next 24-48 hours. Thereafter, her condition should slowly return to norm.
I tried my best to focus and understand but I was actually devastated, there was my baby girl, having just arrived to this world and was already faced with such challenges. And me, never in my life have I felt so powerless, such despair. Not even when people extremely close to myself were diagnosed with kidney failure or depression (and subsequent relapse), was I shaken this much. All those times, I was able to analyse and plan out options soundly but right now, I was totally blank.
I snapped out of my emotional tsunami when the pediatrician held my arm and reassured me that the situation is not critical nor life threatening, so don't be overly concerned and stay strong for mummy and baby. 'Is there anything we can do to improve her condition?' I mumbled. 'As of current, we can only wait and monitor closely, ensure her condition does not worsen, and hope for improvements after 48 hours as diagnosed', she responded. 'Spend some time with baby but not too long as she needs rest, I'll be back after my rounds to check on her. Take some pictures for the wife, will update you of any changes accordingly', she said as she exited the nursery.
I stood still as I took a very long look at baby Ning, donned only in diapers with some heating elements above keeping her warm. 'Not suitable to be wrapped with all the wiring, and to dry up the remaining cord as well', the nurse explained then warned 'And no touching okay'. I studied her features and concluded that she looks very much like daddy, then observed her breathing patterns, which was rapid and irregular indeed. My hands trembled as I took a few pictures and a short video for the wife and I made my way back to the room, all the while thinking how I should break this news to the wife.
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