No sooner had I finished yawning and sitting my tired self on the cold, hard bench that I had a scream and commotion from one of the rooms. My first instinct was to go running, thank all the training from BLS, ACLS and weekly mock codes, I pushed the door hurriedly careful not to maim one of the new mothers or God forbid the door hit one the babies little heads as some mothers sat right behind the door.
My eyes darted and I could never in a decade have anticipated to see what my eyes witnessed.
To take you back; this was almost the end of a long night shift in the newborn unit, it was about 3a.m – this was the period during which the mothers came from the postnatal ward, to breastfeed their neonates. It is a hefty task if you ask me- having to show you 8 times in a day to feed your baby. You can always see the lines of exhaustion drawn on their faces but they still find the strength to show up. She had come in dressed in the blue-striped hospital attire alongside other mothers and gone straight to her child. Her child must have been 4-6days old thereabout and this was her first time as a mom. She had initially struggled with breast milk letdown on day one which is usual then she struggled with latching of the baby onto the breast but with help, she hacked it and the milk letdown improved as well following reassurance. She was doing a well in all accord.
She stood there, beside the incubator that now only had her child in it- the other two babies were already in their mother’s arms, being fed. She looked as though she was about to lift the baby but her posture was straight,tensed and her arms flexed in a crooked way covering most the baby’s torso. As I moved closer in a maddening rush my mind filled with possibilities of what had caused the scream. My first guess being the baby was unresponsive and needed resuscitation. In a split second I was beside her and my first instinct was to gently but firmly pull her away from the baby so that I could have enough space to position and examine the body but she was rigid and did not budge despite verbally urging her to move and guiding her with my hands beside her shoulders. That’s when I saw what was happening – his tiny body wriggled beneath her forearms and the baby made attempts to cough but her two hands wrapped around it’s neck was too strong for the premature neonate. The nurses and the mothers came to my help and helped forcefully detach her from the baby. My forehead was shiny with sweat as my adrenaline surge made me wonder of what could have happened to this poor baby had we not gotten there in time.
We then linked her to the hospital psychiatrist and she received medication for the puerperal psychosis she had experienced. For two days she wasn’t allowed around the baby but soon enough she was back to her norma, jovial self with positive feelings towards her baby. I still remember the smile she wore the day she carried her baby out of the unit and boy, does she have a story to tell.
Yvonne N. Nyatundo 