We are so grateful to our dear Richa for sharing with us what she defines as a “Covid preemie mom saga”. Richa is from India and currently lives in Toronto, where she gave birth to her first daughter. You can get to know her journey a bit better through the articles she has already written for Expatclic. Thanks a lot Richa, and all the best to you and your beautiful family.
I always wanted a pregnancy that was smooth all the way, natural all the way and a positive experience all the way. What I needed out of it most was a healthy baby. I remember the day that I held a positive pregnancy test in my hand after months of trying during the Covid times, not sure if it was actually positive as the second line was a very light pink. I couldn’t help being excited after reading many online reviews where people mentioned that even the lightest of the second pink line means it’s positive. My husband tried to hide his excitement as he didn’t want me to get too excited and then be disappointed if it wasn’t the case. I had in the meantime done the test 3-4 times more just to be sure. It was the same result every time. Then it was just a matter of time, doing the test daily to see the second pink line keep getting darker and getting doctor’s confirmation that it’s a positive. It seems like that was just a week ago but it’s been more than a year. That’s the first time I felt like a mom. That I am responsible for someone else, someone growing inside of me.
My first trimester was about reading 30 odd pregnancy books as I had never been too interested to learn more about this topic before. It also was a period of doing prenatal yoga daily, being obsessed about nutrition, tossing out plastics from my kitchen, reading ingredients of all products food or non-food in my home carefully and getting rid of anything that seemed remotely hazardous. I hope some of these habits stick for life, although in moderation.
Weeks passed, my first trimester was a breeze barring some light nausea that wasn’t tough to overlook for me in light of the bigger picture. The regular scans only made me happy and assured that the baby is doing well.
Then came the second trimester which everyone I had spoken to, told me was the easiest of the three trimesters. That was so not the case with me, as I discovered a serious complication mid-pregnancy. Luckily, all was okay with the baby and it was just something wrong with my cervix. I learnt the importance of this otherwise useless part of my body that suddenly decided to act up with my first pregnancy. It’s called cervical incompetency, and apparently it was something that I was born with. My cervix was dilating and doctors didn’t know how long I could hold the baby in.
So I had to get a surgery to keep it mechanically shut the very next day. That bought me around two months more with my baby inside me. Out of this time, I spent about a month and a half lying on a hospital bed and remaining time was spent in waiting, coming into the hospital for scans or coming for emergency visits to the hospital due to weird pains and sensations in my body.
Those couple of months were the most scared I had ever been in my life but I kept going for the sake of my baby. Seeing her sucking her thumb or playing with her hair on the scans gave me all the motivation I needed to stay positive in spite of regular pain and endless mental agony. I did several mental calculations during this time of how I could somehow magically carry my baby up to full term. The thought of anything happening to my baby or her even ending up in a NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) was so intimidating! I lasted on prayers throughout this time as some days my need of having a healthy baby seemed a distant reality. I prayed and I let go my expectations of the outcome (quite unlike my usual self), putting myself in the hands of god’s will. I also limited all social contact to stay focused and in control of my emotions. The only person I met apart from doctors and nurses (and could meet due to Covid restrictions) was my husband, and that too twice a week for an hour each. I thought of naming her ‘Mireya’ then, which is a Spanish word for ‘miracle’ and I wrote letters to her about what our life would be like when she comes out.
Mireya decided to come out in the summer of May 2021, about 2 months earlier than expected. We were shocked, terrified and beyond words that day even though we knew in the back of our heads that it was a possibility. It took almost a day for me to come to senses that it’s actually happened. I had hoped that she stayed in me longer but I had this tiny baby looking at me and holding me so strongly from the moment she came out. That’s when I knew this was the most beautiful moment of my life and that it won’t happen again and I could do anything to make this little human’s life healthy, happy and successful.
In the weeks that followed her birth, we spent days rushing to the NICU every morning to be with her and come home late at night and try to work on my milk supply by pumping. The NICU didn’t have regular sleeping arrangement for parents which was impacted further due to COVID-19 along with their visiting rules e.g. each parent could only come one at a time so me and my husband took turns to visit. I realised early on that this was a marathon and not a sprint so I needed to conserve my energy for my baby. I did that in-spite of my mom trying to guilt me by saying that she doesn’t follow how I can leave my baby alone at night! I think she would have said it without realising the impact it would have on me due to my ongoing guilt of the situation. On the other hand, it made me feel like I cannot expect moral support from her as a first time parent of a preemie baby. I knew how I could leave my baby – one, that was best for both of us and second, I was confident that she was in an absolutely safe environment. We were incredibly lucky that even though Mireya was in the NICU, she was overall a healthy baby and just needed to grow. So my days were a flurry of activity, getting through several tests, waiting, celebrating little milestones and in between also trying to get in a few laughs via some sitcoms during late night home pumping sessions.
My milk supply was an issue in the initial post pregnancy days, in the sense that I hardly had any. Up until that point in my life, I had always gotten what I badly wanted, always. Sometimes easily, most times after a lot of hard work. This situation seemed uncertain as for the first time, I didn’t feel confident that even if I put in my best effort, it will be rewarded in some miraculous way. I tried everything – doctors, lactation consultants, herbs, medicines and lots of pumping at every waking hour night and day. Finally, after a couple of months, I succeeded in getting a respectable supply. It wasn’t full, but it was more than half. Again I proved to myself that efforts always yield some results. If I hadn’t been able to breastfeed my baby on top of what happened during pregnancy and her being born early, I would have been more ridden with guilt.
It’s been almost six months now, my baby has been close to me day in and day out- physically and emotionally. The pumping has continued, so has the breastfeeding and bottle feeding. We learn something new everyday with each other and Mireya does some wonderful gimmicks everyday that become the highlight of the day for us. Like the other day, she was practising rollover on my husband’s legs and she did about 10 back and forth rolls quickly in a 30 second span! We were in splits about her speed and accuracy.
We have mostly good days for which we are eternally grateful and occasionally some rough days where we are figuring stuff out. Like the other day, I was still contemplating how much better I can do for her if I get a nanny a few hours a day. Finding the right nanny has been such a challenge in Covid times. I have so many ideas for her – like what solids to feed her and when, how to stay on top of all her milestones, how to be more present for her through the day. What gets in the way is my need for sleep which I have to keep up with in order to take care of her, and my pumping schedule which is also my commitment for her to provide her with as much of my milk as I can for at least a year. Hoping we will get through this time again with sincere efforts in the right direction like every other time in my life.
In the end, I got what I needed from the pregnancy, i.e. a healthy and happy baby. I didn’t get to have a smooth pregnancy like I wanted but it was still a positive experience in-spite of the challenges related to pregnancy and COVID. Imagine we did all that while smiling through our masks and putting on our shields during hospital stays. I didn’t get to do pregnancy photo-shoots but I don’t think I missed anything material. We had some sharp bends through the ride, but we made it up until here pretty okay. I have immense gratitude for god, for the doctors, for the nurses and all the healthcare workers that supported us through this journey.
Richa Singh
Toronto, Canada
January 2022
All photos @RichaSingh
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