Baby outside the Box

When I arrived at the hospital today, Amon's incubator was empty.
My heart dropped. Where is my baby?!
In the past I have seen him make a break for the back door of the incubator, but to go and not even leave a note? it's not like Amon...
Before long, I heard his tiny cries from the examining area at the back of the room.  A nurse intercepted me and told me he was having blood work done. This is not part of family-centred care, so I sat staring at his empty incubator, listening to him cry, woefully unable to do anything for him.  My poor baby! I had to choke back the tears too... when you hear your baby crying like that, your only thought is to rescue him, but I had to wait with about 5 feet and a wall separating us. When they brought him to me, he was relieved to see me, and very, very quiet.  I put him to the universal panacea, and he latched on immediately and nursed until he fell asleep.

If the truth be told, the empty incubator has been a fantasy of mine since we arrived at St. Mike's, but for a different reason: he's hit 1800 g.  At 1800 g, babies graduate to a little open air bed called a cot. Around this weight babies start to be able to regulate their own temperature. As they gain more weight, their temperature regulation gets better. The cots look more like laundry baskets than baby beds, as the babes are hidden under tons of blankets and a make-shift blanket tent to keep the heat in.

When I checked Amon's weight, joy of joys, the boy was at 1824 g! Freedom from the plastic box is imminent! I spend a good portion of my days looking at Amon through the plexi box, touching and comforting him through the portholes, changing his diaper through the doors. Moments outside the box are precious and cherished. When we breastfeed, his leads are also unplugged, and it is bliss.

Tomorrow, when I walk in, I won't be scared by the empty incubator. I'll be overjoyed to find Amon Soleil in a big boy bed, with nothing between us but a giant pile of blankets.