A Fight for Emily

by Saskia Babbitt

I sit here and think back to that dark and cold November night in England. All was quiet in my hospital room, where I had spent many weeks laying flat on my back and having Steroids pumped into me every 7 days.

Why?... I hear some of you ask... well, I was 26 weeks pregnant, my waters were constantly leaking and I had had 2 previous unsuccessful pregnancies. The Steroids were to stimulate my "little one's" lungs to form and mature quickly in case of a premature birth. I already new I was having a girl and liked the name Emily, an old fashioned name in England at the time.

It was 2am on November 28th 1992 that I awoke to the unforgettable sensation of contractions! Panic began to set in; I rang the bell for a nurse, who promptly appeared puffing and panting telling me a lady had just given birth in the elevator on her way to the delivery suite! I told her I was having contractions and she called for a doctor. The doctor arrived and injected me with a drug to slow down my contractions. It seemed to work and I drifted back off to sleep. Now it was 6am 'Bang!' I woke up in agony with the urge to push..."Not good" I thought to myself. With in minutes I was rushed up to the delivery room with horror in my heart, the room was full of people waiting for me, shouting, rushing and preparing for this little person who was about to appear... too early! I had no control... what a horrible sensation.

At 9.03 am little Emily was born, breech but naturally. I remember the doctor, sadness in his face saying, "she's like a doll". I could hear the doctors and nurses working hard to resuscitate my baby, they put her in an incubator and ran off pushing this box in front of them, leaving the doors to swing behind them… suddenly there was silence, a peaceful calm, an empty room, the madness gone! I was numb and knew nothing.

My sister came and helped me to bath; we just held each other and sat in silence. Had I lost another precious gift?

It was 2 hours later when finally a nurse came to me and asked if I'd like to come and see my daughter! I was in shock I couldn't believe that my baby was alive, a glimmer of light and hope seared through me. I walked through the Special Care Baby Unit doors to be greeted by the heat, bleeping, humming, lights flashing and other mechanical noises all of them keeping our precious early arrivals alive. I was led passed several incubators, a mass of tubes and wires with little pink forms laying amongst them, until I came to a stop and there in front of me was my very own little miracle, Emily, weighing 746gramms (1lb 10ozs). The vision of her will last me the rest of my days; the science and technology invading her tiny body, keeping it from fading... This was the beginning...

For the next fourteen weeks I lived in a tiny room, not much bigger than a closet, next to the S.C.B.Unit. Only ever leaving to eat. I made sure I was there by Emily's side, talking and gently touching her bird like form through every invasive procedure. At 1 week old I remember the first touch of her almost transparent skin, smooth but so fragile, her eyes still closed, her little chest heaving under the command of the ventilator. I gradually learnt to do all 'her cares' changing her diaper avoiding all the tubes was a challenge to say the least! We used damp Q-tips to wash around her eyes and mouth and put Vaseline on her lips to stop them drying out. They even taught me to put her gastric nasal tubes in. To me she was like a rose petal, so delicate and beautiful, in need of the most gentle care. I remember sitting for hours beside her 'box' reading stories of Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny, I wonder if she ever really heard or knew what I was saying.

Night times were long and lonely, always wondering what the next day would bring. There were days and nights that Emily didn't do so well, her oxygen levels would drop for no apparent reason, blood transfusions were constant, she regularly stopped breathing and her little heart would suffer Bradycardia's. One day a doctor took me aside and told me "if Emily survives she will be brain damaged and that I should think long and hard about this". I think he was asking me to give up on her... but never, I couldn't, she in my mind had a chance, and so what if she had brain damage, she was my little miracle and nothing was going to stop me loving this tiny angel. So Emily and I continued to fight, through lumber punctures, holes in her heart, intravenous drips that scarred her little arms and legs, a skin bug that caused septicemia, hernias, eye problems caused by the oxygen, we seemed to go through it all and come out the other side still on top. S.C.B.U became our home and family for a while, we spent Christmas and New Year there with the doctors and nurses who worked so hard defying all the laws of nature keeping death at bay. Although I did endure the pain of death through others who were not so fortunate as I.

It was March 6th1993 that I was allowed to take my precious Emily home, she weighed 5lbs 15ozs and was on 0.2L of oxygen. My small home had been plumbed with oxygen tubes, medical monitors and a daily visit arranged by a doctor to check on her progress. The newspapers all said "Miracle babe goes home at last" and "Joy as baby goes home" these paper clippings I still have. All along I believed Emily benefited from hearing my voice, feeling my touch and knowing mommy was there. At home Emily began to improve with leaps and bounds, within 2 weeks she was off oxygen, her apneas and bradycardias were less, her weight gain was steady, thanks to 'Betsy' the breast pump! I pumped every day, 5 times a day for 6 months, until my milk sadly dried up (I didn't have Breastfeeding.com to help me with supply problems!). My freezer began to look like a dairy. She would feed every 2 hours night and day, but only 2 ounces at a time. I kept her so very close to me, at night I could hear her every breath, subconsciously always listening for silence, occasionally that silence would come and I'd know immediately, leap out of bed, place my hand on her chest and stimulate her again to breath. My heart would race until I heard her and felt her move under my hand, then came relief. As the time went on Emily needed less and less 'kick starts' she became strong and healthy.

To this story there is a happy ending. Although small in stature and quiet due to voice box disruption, caused by ventilating tubes, my little miracle baby Emily is no longer a baby but a 3rd grader, with no brain damage and as bright as a new penny! She is and will always be my shining, fighting star. Emily thank you for fighting so hard and making mommy's dream come true, I love you.

About the Author -

Saskia Babbitt has moved from England and now makes her home in Colorado with her four daughters Emily, Caitlin, Joy, and Bethan. Best of all, Saskia has worked for Breastfeeding.com the last six years, producing most of the beautiful graphics found on this site, and editing many of the articles.

If you have your own story about your premature baby, write us at story@breastfeeding.com.