It seemed like it took forever for them to finish with me and get me to my room. It had been nearly 24 hours since I had anything to drink or eat. Before we left Labor and Delivery, we got a call from one of the NICU doctors-Lucas started to have difficulty breathing, which they anticipated would happen. Because this was an emergency delivery, they didn't have time to give him steriods to advance his lung development. They had started to give him a breathing treatment and they thought he would have to have at least one more, if not two. He was tolerating the medicine well. But he would have to be on a ventilator for a while.
Before they moved me to my room, the nurses took us to the NICU. When we got there two respiratory therapists working on Lucas. They explained he was doing well and that this was going to make him stronger. As I reached out to touch him for the very first time, I broke down in tears. I was responsible for this, I was responsible for his pain. He didn't deserve to have this happen to him. They all assured me that was not the case. It didn't matter-nothing they said or did could have changed how I felt. I had failed him as his mother.
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