Born into a pandemic: A new father missed the birth of his twins; now he and his wife can’t visit them

The doctor warned Gerald Fadayomi not to come to the hospital.

Fadayomi awaited test results for the coronavirus and had been quarantined in his guest bedroom for two days. His wife, Kiley, was nearly eight months pregnant with twins and at the hospital for a coronavirus test herself. Both had mild fevers and body aches.

During the exam, doctors found his wife was 4 centimeters dilated, and the babies were coming.

Fadayomi, 30, a pastor in Atlanta, didn’t care what the doctor said.

No one is going to keep me from being there, he thought.

For new parents, giving birth during a pandemic brings confusion and waiting. The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecology recommend separating newborn babies from mothers who test positive for the virus or who were exposed to it.

Two major hospital systems in New York adopted strict policies banning visitors – even partners – then the state health department updated its guidelines Friday to allow one support partner. Neonatal intensive care units must limit visitors and sometimes close as parents come in contact with the virus.

Parents wait to see their babies for the first time, to hold their partners’ hands. They watch from video chat, they lean on each other, and they pray.

On March 18, Fadayomi jumped in his car and raced to Northside Hospital Atlanta. As soon as he pulled into the lot, he said, a nurse called him.

“I don’t want to be the person to tell you this,” the nurse said, “but you can’t come into the hospital until you receive your test results.”

Fadayomi started to cry.

For years, he had vowed to be there for his children from the very beginning – the way his father, who left his life when he was in third grade, never was. How could he not be there for the babies’ first look at this world, a world filled with so much anxiety and fear and confusion?

“I’m so sorry,” the nurse said. She started to cry, too.

Fadayomi thought of his wife, alone. He thought of his children, whom he’d been waiting to meet for months. He thought of all the other patients, doctors, nurses and family members whom he could harm if he did have the virus.

You get your whole life with these children, he thought. You need to do what’s healthy and safe.

He pulled himself together, thanked the nurse. Then he called his mom and his wife’s mom. Someone needed to be there.

In the hospital, Kiley Fadayomi burst into tears. She was 34 and in labor for the first time. She couldn’t imagine doing it without her husband beside her.

He’s the rational one, she thought. He’s supposed to be here.

Gerald Fadayomi’s mom arrived at the hospital first, hoping that she could be in the delivery room. Nurses prepared Kiley for a C-section. Then doctors decided to put her completely to sleep to finish surgery. That meant no one else could be in the room, so no one could even FaceTime her husband.

Gerald drove home in silence and began pacing in his yard. One hour later, he got the call from his mom.

“Your girls are here.”

Two days later, doctors came into Kiley’s room, where she and her husband awaited coronavirus test results. For the first time, they weren’t wearing hazmat suits.

“Notice anything different about us?” one of them said. “You guys are clear. You can go meet those babies.”

Meeting his daughters, Wesley Grace and Zoey Faith, was a joy Gerald said he couldn’t put into words.

“It was like everything was right with the world for just a moment,” he said.

Four days later, a new complication arose. The NICU was forced to close to visitors. It could be weeks before the Fadayomis could touch their babies again.

The girls were born at 3 pounds, 9 ounces, and 4 pounds, 7 ounces. If they gain weight and continue to do well, the couple will be able to bring them home.

The couple knows that many others suffer far worse. Other babies are more critical. Health care professionals are risking their lives. Some quarantine themselves away from their own families. People are dying, and their family members can’t say goodbye.

Now’s the time to lean on each other, Kiley said. It’s time to share stories, volunteer, stay home, pray.

With support from others, they know they’ll get through it, Gerald said. They’ll hold Wesley and Zoey again.

“It’s only a matter of days.”

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Coronavirus forces hospitals to separate parents and babies