My baby boy arrived a little early, and little. He was ‘classified’ as very preterm, with a ‘VLBW’ (very low birth weight). He entered the world at 29+6 weeks.
In the months that followed I had never felt so vulnerable and overwhelmed in my life. Not quite what I was expecting motherhood to be like. That was 6 years ago.
Last month I headed to Melbourne, Australia, to complete an advanced competency creative music therapy course – particularly for use in NICU. I was feeling very excited and nervous at the same time. I was aware there could be various feelings having been a ‘NICU or Premmie Mum’ as affectionately termed in Australia, even though I have worked since with vulnerable babies as a music therapist after becoming a Mum.
To prepare for the course, we were provided pre-reading. One of the readings was a collection of stories from mothers of very preterm infants. Everything was familiar. It was like I was reading my own experience – written by someone else. One quote hit me– it was like I had been physically transported back to the NICU 6 years earlier. The tears came and kept coming.
“When you’re there, you put your whole…whole life on hold. You don’t cry, you’re completely focused on your child. Otherwise, how can you cope with pumping breast milk every hour? Your own grief or mourning…I’m still working on that”
(Flacking et al, 2006)
I was awash with feeling numb, exhausted, scared for our baby, scared for me, overwhelmed, everyday hoping one of our ‘favourite’ nurses would be working. As I sat with the feelings and reflecting on how far we have come– I allowed myself to reflect gently whilst recalling how we navigated this time.
In survival mode humans do what needs to be done. All I really knew about premature babies was that what was important in helping the baby grow were the parent voice and cuddles – kangaroo care.
As a music therapist I knew music – I knew I could sing to Archie and that’s what I did. This felt like it was all we could do in those early weeks, along with skin-to-skin cuddles.
In a place where everything felt clinical – and so far from the ‘warm baby bubble’ people spoke of – we were creating our own warm baby bubble with our voices and cuddles.
A warm and safe cocoon
Being at the recent Creative music therapy training, my initial nerves soon settled with a sense of knowingness, almost a recollection. I had been here before. I could again trust and use my voice to connect with a little baby and his Mum.
Amidst the alarms, the beeping, the loud voices surrounding us – connecting with my voice and humming just 2-3 notes repeatedly, hmm hmm hmm… hmm hmm hmm… allowed me to provide a warm and safe cocoon where the mother and her little baby boy were able to connect and communicate.
6 years on, Archie still loves Mummy singing and humming him to sleep. He reaches for my neck to ‘feel’ the sound without realising, as he did when he was a tiny little thing.
The power and magic of the voice supported Archie to grow but importantly supported me – his Mummy to be present, whilst together learning what each other needed. Humming and singing reconnected me to myself – so that I could connect with and stay present in the magic moments of my newborn, rather than becoming overwhelmed and scared despite being in a NICU.
Little one, little one, how precious you are.
Wow, what a powerful and strong testimonial – entwining two perspectives from both a mother and a therapist. Over the years, I have read a lot of testimonials about the effect of music therapy from the perspective of parents and clinicians. And it still gives me goose bumps to see and read the power of peer support here in those stories about what music and singing can do: «the power and magic of the voice». Wonderfully phrased. Thanks for sharing, Angela!