Neonatal intensive care — a scary sounding place and one you are unlikely to chance upon. For eight weeks I visited my baby every day, trying to become a mother in the most medical of environments. Incubators housed tiny babies at the very edge of life, and all around me monitors beeped and alarmed as they seamlessly chimed with the uncertainty of our journey.
Given the nature of NICU, the pain of leaving your fragile baby each day, the feelings of emptiness and grief, the uncertainty and ups and downs, the lines, wires, monitors and alarms, not to mention the security buzzers at the entrance of the unit or the constant rigorous hand-washing, it came as no surprise to me that parents who have experienced premature birth are at greater risk of postnatal depression, anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
I remember the moment I first felt panicked and sick with PTSD symptoms; I was returning to the neonatal unit for my baby’s four-week follow up. Walking out of the car park and into the hospital I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and hear the beats and flow of blood throbbing in my head. I was dizzy as the sounds and feelings morphed into the beep, beep, beep of monitors and the hum of the ventilator as air filled my son’s lungs. I closed my eyes to block out the panic, but all I could see were wires and the mechanical rise and fall of my baby’s tiny chest. I felt sick to the bottom of my stomach, as if my entire body was shutting down and there was nothing I could do to stop it.