My son was born premature (at 24 weeks & 4 days) and has been in NICU for nearly three weeks now.
I can always tell when Mr. Man has had a rough time because I usually wake up super emotional on his bad days. (I'm not generally a super emotional kinda gal.) We haven't had a lot of time together, but we are already so connected. I love that we have a special bond. I love that I can sense what's going on with my kids... no matter how near or far apart we are. I love having a mother's intuition.
This morning I woke up with a funny feeling. Something just wasn't right. Throughout the morning I was cranky and grouchy, weepy and teary-eyed over the slightest of things. A phone call at lunch made my heart sink when I couldn't answer in time. All day, my littlest one had been at the forefront of my mind...more-so than usual.
When we went to visit him in the early afternoon, his nurse came rushing towards us. She said the nurse practitioner didn't want him disturbed. No looking at him, no talking to him. No stimulation of any kind, period. My baby boy had a really shitty morning and they wanted him to get as much rest as possible. (Well, his nurse did let me peek at him. Thank you.)
He was so still. They put him on a morphine drip to calm him down - help him relax and sleep. I hate to see him knocked out and not wiggling, but I was glad he was able to rest and not be so agitated.
Little Man decided to try and do things on his own, so he extubated himself from the oscillator. And then he wouldn't allow the nurses to put the tube back in. (And he really needed to be on the oscillator because his blood gas levels were not good... CO2 was building up in his blood stream and they wanted to keep him from sepsis. They needed to open up his lungs so the gas would expel more quickly.)
To try and make a long story short, they were unable to get him back on the oscillator this evening, but did manage to keep him on the ventilator throughout the day. They also had to give him steroids to fight the inflammation in his lungs because he wouldn't let the oscillator do it's job and work for him.
Tonight, Brennan is oxygenating and ventilating much more effectively. His favorite night shift nurse has been able to wean him down on the ventilator - he was at 30% last time I spoke with her (vent ranges from 21% to 100%, 100% being max assistance from the machine.) His blood gas levels are good... much better than they have been all day... so it's looks like we are steering clear of him being acidotic. Chest percussion was performed to break up some of the crud/congestion, and his lungs sound much better tonight. She also stopped his morphine drip so he can start moving around again, and get his lymphatic system working. He had another blood transfusion, and that should help perk him up. (To put things into perspective: our baby receives 4 teaspoons of blood over a course of 12 hours, with a 4 hour break between doses.) Little man is also getting 2 different types of antibiotics to fight infections. And he was given medicine to flush out some of the excess fluid from his system. All of that info covers one of his issues; I won't dive into the other stuff tonight.
Okay, so I couldn't exactly keep the long story short. Sorry.
My son is stubborn. And I have no idea where he could possibly get that from (ahem.) He takes initiative and tries to do things for himself. (Go baby go! But seriously, you have to learn to walk before you can run! So take it easy!) He certainly is feisty and has spunk. I'm hoping he gets these wild shenanigans out of his system now so we have peaceful teenage years. Fingers and toes crossed. Salt over the shoulder. I mean, what ever works.
Tomorrow when I get up, I'm gonna do a happy dance. Perhaps I can will my kiddo to have a good day. And I'll sing too:
"You've got to wake up every morning, with a smile on your face, and show the world all the love in your heart. People gonna treat you different, you gonna find, yes you will. That you're beautiful, as you feel." ~Carol King
If I can sense his pain from a distance, perhaps he can feel my joy from just as far.
I sense a better day for us tomorrow. Mother's intuition? I'm claiming it!
Friday, May 31, 2013
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Under The Knife
As most of you know, I had a complicated pregnancy.
Here's a little back-story:
My large, subchorionic hematoma was no joke - as it measured halfway around my placenta. I dealt with active blood loss on a daily basis for nearly three months (starting around 10.5 weeks of my pregnancy), passed large blood clots every so often, was on bed rest for nearly three months, and I had contractions on and off for a week or two towards the end of my short pregnancy. Also, I went to the hospital four times for "monitoring" due to some of the above complications. [Should I mention I saw my regular OB/GYN and a high risk OB/GYN every two weeks, and sometimes once a week? Yes, yes I should mention those constant doctor visits.]
As my pregnancy progressed, I was told by my doctors that I would more than likely have a C-section. Great! I have to admit, I wasn't looking forward to a C-section. I didn't want to be carved open. I didn't want to go under the knife. I didn't want my muscles sliced apart and sewn back together. I didn't want to have to deal with scar tissue. The thought of it taking a little longer to bounce back to normalcy after giving birth/delivering was not on my wish list. But, I did want what was best for my baby... and taking a scalpel to my "gut" was actually best for both myself and my baby boy.
[I'd been in the hospital for 5 days when all hell broke loose. Docs and nurses were able to stop labor twice, but on the third time, no such luck! I guess third time's a charm. Little Man was ready!]
Emergency C-Section, here we come:
I'd ping-ponged around the maternity ward... from Labor and Delivery, to Antepartum, and back to L&D once more. Contractions were increasing and the medicine (mag drip and narcotics) wasn't slowing them down or decreasing my pain. Little Man's heart rate would dip with the contractions, but it also picked right back up afterwards. Then... it didn't pick up.
I was woken from a shallow, short-lived nap to a flutter of nurses and doctors who were immediately busy at my bedside. They began adjusting cords, wires, machines, etc. A young, male doctor on my team asked, "O.R.?" Then my primary doc said, "O.R. STAT!"
Before I knew it I was wheeled out of my L&D room and straight into the O.R. immediately across the hall. My poor husband was left in the dust! They had woken him up as they scurried, and just as he was getting a shoe on, I was gone, along with the rest of my team.
I remember seeing large double doors open. Then I remember seeing a white room with stainless steel work counters, and a team of medical personnel in green scrubs, shoe covers, and caps, frantically getting things ready. I've never truly seen a room in a frenzy. I was immediately reclined, and was placed flat on my back. I remember the large, round, O.R. light above me. One nurse grabbed my right arm and pulled it out beside me. Another nurse grabbed my left arm and did the same. I looked like the lower case "t" lying there. And the nurses kept saying, "It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay." I remember laughing to myself thinking, "Of course it's gonna be okay." The sheet went up, I felt a cold splash across my lower torso, a mask was placed over my nose and mouth. The last thing I remember was one of the nurses asking if I had a daughter. I said, "Yes. Her name is McPhearson." And then I was out.
I woke up in an entirely new room, with my husband and mother at my side. I remember trying to talk to them, but again, my lips moved and no sound would come out. I drifted in and out of sleep. I didn't get to see my newborn. It would be days before I saw my preemie.
According to my doctor, she had the baby out in less than five minutes. Then it took about 20-30 minutes for them to clean me up and staple me back together. Ugh, the thought of my own C-section makes me queasy. And I'm not the squeamish type. I guess when it happens to you, it's a different story.
I was told that because the baby was so small, I had a mid-transverse C-section, where the incision is vertical and not horizontal (this way they wouldn't injure the baby). This means that for all future pregnancies, I will have to have C-sections, and more than likely they will be scheduled around 34 or 36 weeks... shoot, can't remember now. I will not be allowed to deliver vaginally as my uterus could rupture. If I have contractions and or other labor pains, I am to go to the hospital immediately. And, it was also recommended that I see a high risk specialist for all future pregnancies. And since my placenta almost detached completely from my uterus, chances are high that it could happen again. (That was a lot to take in.)
I had 17 staples that formed a weird, metal smiley face across my lower abdomen. Just before discharge, my nurse splashed my incision with alcohol... which reminded me of my grandfather because the alcohol smelled sweet like gin and tonic (his choice drink)... and then removed the staples. The alcohol stung a little. And it tickled a lot! I could feel the snip of said staples, but I didn't feel her pull them out. Well, I may have felt one or two. Then she placed steri-strips across the incision and all was said and done. My weird, metal smiley face now looked like the smile from The Nightmare Before Christmas... large, long, wide, white teeth gleamed at me.
My incision site is very sensitive. If my pants rub a certain way, it makes me queasy. Parts of my belly are still numb. But other parts are so very ticklish. I'm trying to desensitize the area by rubbing very lightly around... not on... the incision. Once my incision has healed I can begin scar tissue massage and more in-depth desensitization.
I have pictures on my cell phone. I'll try to get those uploaded sometime so you can see the weird, metal smiley face and the gnarly, toothy smiley face that covered what will forever remain my battle scar of a complicated second pregnancy.
Once again, I wasn't looking forward to going under the knife. But all-in-all, it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was totally necessary and worth it, so my precious son could have a fighting chance. And boy is he a fighter. He's feisty and has spunk. He wants to be here... and I can't wait to take him home... months from now.
Here's a little back-story:
My large, subchorionic hematoma was no joke - as it measured halfway around my placenta. I dealt with active blood loss on a daily basis for nearly three months (starting around 10.5 weeks of my pregnancy), passed large blood clots every so often, was on bed rest for nearly three months, and I had contractions on and off for a week or two towards the end of my short pregnancy. Also, I went to the hospital four times for "monitoring" due to some of the above complications. [Should I mention I saw my regular OB/GYN and a high risk OB/GYN every two weeks, and sometimes once a week? Yes, yes I should mention those constant doctor visits.]
As my pregnancy progressed, I was told by my doctors that I would more than likely have a C-section. Great! I have to admit, I wasn't looking forward to a C-section. I didn't want to be carved open. I didn't want to go under the knife. I didn't want my muscles sliced apart and sewn back together. I didn't want to have to deal with scar tissue. The thought of it taking a little longer to bounce back to normalcy after giving birth/delivering was not on my wish list. But, I did want what was best for my baby... and taking a scalpel to my "gut" was actually best for both myself and my baby boy.
[I'd been in the hospital for 5 days when all hell broke loose. Docs and nurses were able to stop labor twice, but on the third time, no such luck! I guess third time's a charm. Little Man was ready!]
Emergency C-Section, here we come:
I'd ping-ponged around the maternity ward... from Labor and Delivery, to Antepartum, and back to L&D once more. Contractions were increasing and the medicine (mag drip and narcotics) wasn't slowing them down or decreasing my pain. Little Man's heart rate would dip with the contractions, but it also picked right back up afterwards. Then... it didn't pick up.
I was woken from a shallow, short-lived nap to a flutter of nurses and doctors who were immediately busy at my bedside. They began adjusting cords, wires, machines, etc. A young, male doctor on my team asked, "O.R.?" Then my primary doc said, "O.R. STAT!"
Before I knew it I was wheeled out of my L&D room and straight into the O.R. immediately across the hall. My poor husband was left in the dust! They had woken him up as they scurried, and just as he was getting a shoe on, I was gone, along with the rest of my team.
I remember seeing large double doors open. Then I remember seeing a white room with stainless steel work counters, and a team of medical personnel in green scrubs, shoe covers, and caps, frantically getting things ready. I've never truly seen a room in a frenzy. I was immediately reclined, and was placed flat on my back. I remember the large, round, O.R. light above me. One nurse grabbed my right arm and pulled it out beside me. Another nurse grabbed my left arm and did the same. I looked like the lower case "t" lying there. And the nurses kept saying, "It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay." I remember laughing to myself thinking, "Of course it's gonna be okay." The sheet went up, I felt a cold splash across my lower torso, a mask was placed over my nose and mouth. The last thing I remember was one of the nurses asking if I had a daughter. I said, "Yes. Her name is McPhearson." And then I was out.
I woke up in an entirely new room, with my husband and mother at my side. I remember trying to talk to them, but again, my lips moved and no sound would come out. I drifted in and out of sleep. I didn't get to see my newborn. It would be days before I saw my preemie.
According to my doctor, she had the baby out in less than five minutes. Then it took about 20-30 minutes for them to clean me up and staple me back together. Ugh, the thought of my own C-section makes me queasy. And I'm not the squeamish type. I guess when it happens to you, it's a different story.
I was told that because the baby was so small, I had a mid-transverse C-section, where the incision is vertical and not horizontal (this way they wouldn't injure the baby). This means that for all future pregnancies, I will have to have C-sections, and more than likely they will be scheduled around 34 or 36 weeks... shoot, can't remember now. I will not be allowed to deliver vaginally as my uterus could rupture. If I have contractions and or other labor pains, I am to go to the hospital immediately. And, it was also recommended that I see a high risk specialist for all future pregnancies. And since my placenta almost detached completely from my uterus, chances are high that it could happen again. (That was a lot to take in.)
I had 17 staples that formed a weird, metal smiley face across my lower abdomen. Just before discharge, my nurse splashed my incision with alcohol... which reminded me of my grandfather because the alcohol smelled sweet like gin and tonic (his choice drink)... and then removed the staples. The alcohol stung a little. And it tickled a lot! I could feel the snip of said staples, but I didn't feel her pull them out. Well, I may have felt one or two. Then she placed steri-strips across the incision and all was said and done. My weird, metal smiley face now looked like the smile from The Nightmare Before Christmas... large, long, wide, white teeth gleamed at me.
My incision site is very sensitive. If my pants rub a certain way, it makes me queasy. Parts of my belly are still numb. But other parts are so very ticklish. I'm trying to desensitize the area by rubbing very lightly around... not on... the incision. Once my incision has healed I can begin scar tissue massage and more in-depth desensitization.
I have pictures on my cell phone. I'll try to get those uploaded sometime so you can see the weird, metal smiley face and the gnarly, toothy smiley face that covered what will forever remain my battle scar of a complicated second pregnancy.
Once again, I wasn't looking forward to going under the knife. But all-in-all, it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was totally necessary and worth it, so my precious son could have a fighting chance. And boy is he a fighter. He's feisty and has spunk. He wants to be here... and I can't wait to take him home... months from now.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Elavator Music * Finding Laughter, Part 3 *
Once again, the parking garage took hold of me this afternoon and I lost myself in laughter.
Special note of interest: Okay, okay. It wasn't so much elevator music as it was elevator conversation. The hospital elevators don't play music. What a shame. Some of them talk to you, in soothing monotones. But they just won't serenade.
So, Matt and I enter the parking garage and head for the elevators so we can reach the 3rd level and find our car. I pushed the button, and we waited for our lift. Doors opened, and we entered the elevator alone. Out of nowhere, two young women come blazing through the doorway, and Matt and I are instantly separated. He found himself in one corner, and I was pushed into another. Matt looked at me and said, "You're so far away." I giggled, and one of the ladies laughed. Then I said, "Babe, it's just an elevator." The woman laughed again. Matt looked at me, with all seriousness written on his face, and simply stated, "Separation Anxiety." I started laughing so hard it hurt once again. And the woman found it pretty amusing too, because she laughed her way off of the elevator.
It's in the little things.
Special note of interest: Okay, okay. It wasn't so much elevator music as it was elevator conversation. The hospital elevators don't play music. What a shame. Some of them talk to you, in soothing monotones. But they just won't serenade.
So, Matt and I enter the parking garage and head for the elevators so we can reach the 3rd level and find our car. I pushed the button, and we waited for our lift. Doors opened, and we entered the elevator alone. Out of nowhere, two young women come blazing through the doorway, and Matt and I are instantly separated. He found himself in one corner, and I was pushed into another. Matt looked at me and said, "You're so far away." I giggled, and one of the ladies laughed. Then I said, "Babe, it's just an elevator." The woman laughed again. Matt looked at me, with all seriousness written on his face, and simply stated, "Separation Anxiety." I started laughing so hard it hurt once again. And the woman found it pretty amusing too, because she laughed her way off of the elevator.
It's in the little things.
Friday, May 24, 2013
My Egg Is Cracked * Finding Laughter, Part 2 *
There's just something about the parking garage at Brennan's hospital that has magical humorous powers. For the second night in a row, said powers have taken hold of me, and I find myself laughing like a mad woman over the silliest of things.
Upon departure this evening, I saw a strange object on the ground, beside the back tire of an expensive car. I couldn't tell if it was a small animal curled up (unlikely) or someone's dirty T-shirt (most likely.) As it turns out, someone lost their hair-piece. [I'm crying - laughing so hard right now I can barely type this out. Seriously, no idea why this is so funny to me! Okay, well I do have some idea. Hormone minions are at play.] When my husband said, "It's someone's hair-piece," I lost it! I couldn't contain my laughter. And before I could tell him I thought it might be a small animal, he spontaneously yelled out, "SQUIRREL!" If you would have been walking towards me in that parking garage, you might have moved over to the other side. I'm sure I should be embarrassed.
Once again, we hopped in the car to drive away. As my husband started backing out, I saw a couple of pedestrians, and yelled out, "People!" He stopped and let them pass. Then he started backing out again... and he yelled out, "Hamsters!" as a Kia Soul passed by. This had me rolling with laughter too, because our daughter absolutely loves the Kia Soul commercial with the Hamsters driving the car. She yells out "Hamsters" before she even sees them driving when this delightful little commercial airs.
And not to be crude, but I think I'm turning into a dude... or at least my sense of humor is morphing into that which guys seem to find hilarious. Lately, if you talk about any kind of bodily function around me... I can't contain myself. Normally this stuff doesn't tickle my funny bone.
My husband may not like me revealing this, but tonight he passed gas in his sleep. [I so wanted to use the word fart because of my morphing humor, but also wanted to try and stay classy. Yep, it's just not gonna happen. Sorry for dropping the F-word. Well, not THE F-word... no F-bombs here.] The whole room smelled of deviled eggs. Had our dog been here asleep on the floor, he would have woken up. Picturing all of this, once again, had me laughing so hard... I actually woke my husband.
Tonight my "stitches are burning," and I've taken pain medication. I feel as if I've laughed so hard lately, that I could seriously bust those stitches. My egg is cracked, and I've lost my mind laughing at some of the silliest things. Ridiculous even. But at least I'm laughing. Laughter truly has healing powers.
Upon departure this evening, I saw a strange object on the ground, beside the back tire of an expensive car. I couldn't tell if it was a small animal curled up (unlikely) or someone's dirty T-shirt (most likely.) As it turns out, someone lost their hair-piece. [I'm crying - laughing so hard right now I can barely type this out. Seriously, no idea why this is so funny to me! Okay, well I do have some idea. Hormone minions are at play.] When my husband said, "It's someone's hair-piece," I lost it! I couldn't contain my laughter. And before I could tell him I thought it might be a small animal, he spontaneously yelled out, "SQUIRREL!" If you would have been walking towards me in that parking garage, you might have moved over to the other side. I'm sure I should be embarrassed.
Once again, we hopped in the car to drive away. As my husband started backing out, I saw a couple of pedestrians, and yelled out, "People!" He stopped and let them pass. Then he started backing out again... and he yelled out, "Hamsters!" as a Kia Soul passed by. This had me rolling with laughter too, because our daughter absolutely loves the Kia Soul commercial with the Hamsters driving the car. She yells out "Hamsters" before she even sees them driving when this delightful little commercial airs.
And not to be crude, but I think I'm turning into a dude... or at least my sense of humor is morphing into that which guys seem to find hilarious. Lately, if you talk about any kind of bodily function around me... I can't contain myself. Normally this stuff doesn't tickle my funny bone.
My husband may not like me revealing this, but tonight he passed gas in his sleep. [I so wanted to use the word fart because of my morphing humor, but also wanted to try and stay classy. Yep, it's just not gonna happen. Sorry for dropping the F-word. Well, not THE F-word... no F-bombs here.] The whole room smelled of deviled eggs. Had our dog been here asleep on the floor, he would have woken up. Picturing all of this, once again, had me laughing so hard... I actually woke my husband.
Tonight my "stitches are burning," and I've taken pain medication. I feel as if I've laughed so hard lately, that I could seriously bust those stitches. My egg is cracked, and I've lost my mind laughing at some of the silliest things. Ridiculous even. But at least I'm laughing. Laughter truly has healing powers.
Finding Laughter
They say laughter is the best medicine, and I couldn't agree more. It is far better to laugh than cry. Who wants a puffy, snotty-face anyway? Not I!
Over the last several months, my husband and I have been dealing with a complicated pregnancy, the pre-term birth of our son, and our 2.5 year old daughter who doesn't quite understand everything that's happening. On top of all of that, we continue to deal with my husband's disability and being out of our normal family routine... things just aren't easy right now.
We could let the stress get to us, but we choose to find laughter in our daily lives. Here are just a few things we've been laughing about lately:
Last night at our Family Focus meeting, some of the mothers and I were able to laugh about the medicines we received in the hospital and how they made us feel.
Most of us were on the Mag Drip (magnesium) to try and stop our labor. Magnesium makes you feel extremely hot. Like the type of hot you get just before you throw up. Or the type of hot you get when you feel like you are about to pass out. The nurses said it would make me feel like I was coming down with the flu, and might even make me nauseated. I felt like my body was on fire, I was so hot. My cheeks wouldn't stop burning - and that was really irritating. Sheets off and a cold wash cloth didn't even help. I needed an industrial sized fan to work for me. An ice bath... something! The next morning it gave me the dry heaves, but fortunately I never vomited. For some of the mamas it made them feel like their heart was racing... and they did vomit.
Morphine made me feel like my heart was racing. It also gave me the shakes. (But after the shakes and heart thumpers, boy did it help me relax and fall asleep easily.)
And then there was some other nasty little pain med they pushed intravenously. It started with an "S." I hated that drug and will never let anyone give it to me again. If only I could remember what it was. It totally F*ed me up! I felt out of control (and I don't like feeling out of control.) I was out of my mind... tripping if you will. Seriously, I would hallucinate. I would imagine people talking to me that weren't there. As soon as it was pushed through my line, I instantly felt tipsy. I also felt like I was wearing a pair of those beer goggles! My eyes were rolling... it felt like they were sloshing back and forth in a bottle of beer. Everything was blurry and I couldn't see straight! That also made my heart race. And it gave me a headache. Also, when I tried to talk to Big M (my hubby), my lips would be moving but sound wouldn't come out. Next time, I'm sticking with morphine. I'll take the heart racing without the crazy, thank you. I'm just glad I can laugh about it now. The only thing that made me feel better while riding this wave was closing my eyes and breathing in the oxygen they gave me due to... yes, decreased oxygen levels.
Now let me tell you a funny little anecdote about my daughter... and my beloved breast pump. Due to our open room in my temporary digs, Little M has witnessed me pump on several occasions. When ever she sees me bust out the tubes, cords, funnels, etc., she will ask, "Is it time for you to pump again, Mommy?" I'll say, "Yes, McPhearson." Once I get going, she asks, "Can I see your nipples?" So, I move my hands slightly out of the way, while trying not to spill my milk supply, so she can get a good look. (We don't shy away from explaining things to our daughter.) I'll never forget what she said next, after she got a good look. "Mommy, your nipples are moving!" Yes, baby girl, that's what happens when pumping.
One more story that had me rolling. Last night, after our visit at the hospital, Matt and I walked to the parking garage and hopped in our car. He cranked the ignition and the headlights automatically came on. I happened to look up at the concrete wall in front of me, and I saw two perfect round circles spaced evenly apart. I started laughing uncontrollably. Matt looked at me, looked at the wall, and back to me... and he started laughing too. I love that he knows me so well. I didn't have to explain anything to him. He knew that what I saw was the soft glow of two perfectly round breasts on the wall, and how it was time to break out two perfectly round funnels and accompanying attachments... and start pumping again. We were laughing hysterically all the way through the parking garage. I would tell him to stop laughing because it was making me laugh even more, and that it hurt to laugh so hard. And naturally we would laugh even harder. It felt like I was going to bust my stitches I was laughing so much. Nothing like a good belly roll.
We have been under a lot of pressure lately. Our situation has been heavy. It felt good to laugh hard enough that it hurt. And it was a good hurt.
Turning frowns upside down!
Over the last several months, my husband and I have been dealing with a complicated pregnancy, the pre-term birth of our son, and our 2.5 year old daughter who doesn't quite understand everything that's happening. On top of all of that, we continue to deal with my husband's disability and being out of our normal family routine... things just aren't easy right now.
We could let the stress get to us, but we choose to find laughter in our daily lives. Here are just a few things we've been laughing about lately:
Last night at our Family Focus meeting, some of the mothers and I were able to laugh about the medicines we received in the hospital and how they made us feel.
Most of us were on the Mag Drip (magnesium) to try and stop our labor. Magnesium makes you feel extremely hot. Like the type of hot you get just before you throw up. Or the type of hot you get when you feel like you are about to pass out. The nurses said it would make me feel like I was coming down with the flu, and might even make me nauseated. I felt like my body was on fire, I was so hot. My cheeks wouldn't stop burning - and that was really irritating. Sheets off and a cold wash cloth didn't even help. I needed an industrial sized fan to work for me. An ice bath... something! The next morning it gave me the dry heaves, but fortunately I never vomited. For some of the mamas it made them feel like their heart was racing... and they did vomit.
Morphine made me feel like my heart was racing. It also gave me the shakes. (But after the shakes and heart thumpers, boy did it help me relax and fall asleep easily.)
And then there was some other nasty little pain med they pushed intravenously. It started with an "S." I hated that drug and will never let anyone give it to me again. If only I could remember what it was. It totally F*ed me up! I felt out of control (and I don't like feeling out of control.) I was out of my mind... tripping if you will. Seriously, I would hallucinate. I would imagine people talking to me that weren't there. As soon as it was pushed through my line, I instantly felt tipsy. I also felt like I was wearing a pair of those beer goggles! My eyes were rolling... it felt like they were sloshing back and forth in a bottle of beer. Everything was blurry and I couldn't see straight! That also made my heart race. And it gave me a headache. Also, when I tried to talk to Big M (my hubby), my lips would be moving but sound wouldn't come out. Next time, I'm sticking with morphine. I'll take the heart racing without the crazy, thank you. I'm just glad I can laugh about it now. The only thing that made me feel better while riding this wave was closing my eyes and breathing in the oxygen they gave me due to... yes, decreased oxygen levels.
Now let me tell you a funny little anecdote about my daughter... and my beloved breast pump. Due to our open room in my temporary digs, Little M has witnessed me pump on several occasions. When ever she sees me bust out the tubes, cords, funnels, etc., she will ask, "Is it time for you to pump again, Mommy?" I'll say, "Yes, McPhearson." Once I get going, she asks, "Can I see your nipples?" So, I move my hands slightly out of the way, while trying not to spill my milk supply, so she can get a good look. (We don't shy away from explaining things to our daughter.) I'll never forget what she said next, after she got a good look. "Mommy, your nipples are moving!" Yes, baby girl, that's what happens when pumping.
One more story that had me rolling. Last night, after our visit at the hospital, Matt and I walked to the parking garage and hopped in our car. He cranked the ignition and the headlights automatically came on. I happened to look up at the concrete wall in front of me, and I saw two perfect round circles spaced evenly apart. I started laughing uncontrollably. Matt looked at me, looked at the wall, and back to me... and he started laughing too. I love that he knows me so well. I didn't have to explain anything to him. He knew that what I saw was the soft glow of two perfectly round breasts on the wall, and how it was time to break out two perfectly round funnels and accompanying attachments... and start pumping again. We were laughing hysterically all the way through the parking garage. I would tell him to stop laughing because it was making me laugh even more, and that it hurt to laugh so hard. And naturally we would laugh even harder. It felt like I was going to bust my stitches I was laughing so much. Nothing like a good belly roll.
We have been under a lot of pressure lately. Our situation has been heavy. It felt good to laugh hard enough that it hurt. And it was a good hurt.
Turning frowns upside down!
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Family Focus
Tonight was Family Focus night at the NICU; this was my second time attending with my husband.
From 6:30 to 7:30 PM every Thursday, the NICU and Progressive Care units get together for a little shin-dig. Pizza and cookies are served. Nurses and doctors gather around, and families come in to talk about (our) experiences with having preemies and life at the hospital.
What a wonderful experience this group has been so far! It is comforting knowing that my husband and I are not alone in our situation. There are other families out there going through the SAME EXACT THING. We are able to share our experiences, we are able to learn, we are able to cry if needed, and we have laughed a lot.
I am delighted to know that I am not the only mother struggling to pump. Most of the other moms are in the same boat I'm in... and can't fill a bottle yet. They have been discouraged just like I was. But like me, they all continue to give it their all. No stone will be left unturned. We are mamas on a mission: In search of El Dorado, A.K.A. Liquid Gold. One mom was the anomaly: she is pumping 40 bottles a day! She has so much excess she's donating it to other mothers in the hospital! Go Sista! (Dang... forgot to rub elbows with her, lol!)
Tonight we had a guest speaker. She went through the same thing I did, with the hematoma and the bleeding. Her son was born at 25 weeks. They, too, rode the NICU roller coaster. Her son is now 8 years old, and playing every sport imaginable. They've certainly had their fair share of ups and downs, but life is manageable. (Noteworthy: She, too, didn't like the sight of an IV placed on her son's forehead.)
Hearing her story and meeting her son, well, it was faith affirming. Their story inspires hope. Their story also taught us a lot, especially in the realm of life post hospital. I never would have thought that our child might be on oxygen at home. I never would have thought our child might have to come back to see pulmonologists, cardiologists, or neurologists, etc. I sort of pictured taking home a healthy baby boy sans complications/challenges. I sort of pictured all of the complications happening at the hospital. But again, it's nice to have a reality check. I like to be prepared, and a little heads up is always a perk. However, at the same time, I'm gonna pray that Little Man doesn't have to deal with any of these things after discharge. I'm gonna claim taking home my healthy, bouncing, baby boy.
I am so incredibly impressed with this hospital and the team that gives care to my son... and to the rest of my family. I am confident in the staffs' abilities and can rest at night knowing Brennan is in the best capable hands.
We are respected. We are informed. We are constantly checked-up on. The team is patient and kind. They are uber caring. They are vigilant and pro-active. My list goes on and on.
We are so grateful and appreciative of all being done. Too blessed to be stressed!
"Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass."
~ Psalm 37:5
From 6:30 to 7:30 PM every Thursday, the NICU and Progressive Care units get together for a little shin-dig. Pizza and cookies are served. Nurses and doctors gather around, and families come in to talk about (our) experiences with having preemies and life at the hospital.
What a wonderful experience this group has been so far! It is comforting knowing that my husband and I are not alone in our situation. There are other families out there going through the SAME EXACT THING. We are able to share our experiences, we are able to learn, we are able to cry if needed, and we have laughed a lot.
I am delighted to know that I am not the only mother struggling to pump. Most of the other moms are in the same boat I'm in... and can't fill a bottle yet. They have been discouraged just like I was. But like me, they all continue to give it their all. No stone will be left unturned. We are mamas on a mission: In search of El Dorado, A.K.A. Liquid Gold. One mom was the anomaly: she is pumping 40 bottles a day! She has so much excess she's donating it to other mothers in the hospital! Go Sista! (Dang... forgot to rub elbows with her, lol!)
Tonight we had a guest speaker. She went through the same thing I did, with the hematoma and the bleeding. Her son was born at 25 weeks. They, too, rode the NICU roller coaster. Her son is now 8 years old, and playing every sport imaginable. They've certainly had their fair share of ups and downs, but life is manageable. (Noteworthy: She, too, didn't like the sight of an IV placed on her son's forehead.)
Hearing her story and meeting her son, well, it was faith affirming. Their story inspires hope. Their story also taught us a lot, especially in the realm of life post hospital. I never would have thought that our child might be on oxygen at home. I never would have thought our child might have to come back to see pulmonologists, cardiologists, or neurologists, etc. I sort of pictured taking home a healthy baby boy sans complications/challenges. I sort of pictured all of the complications happening at the hospital. But again, it's nice to have a reality check. I like to be prepared, and a little heads up is always a perk. However, at the same time, I'm gonna pray that Little Man doesn't have to deal with any of these things after discharge. I'm gonna claim taking home my healthy, bouncing, baby boy.
I am so incredibly impressed with this hospital and the team that gives care to my son... and to the rest of my family. I am confident in the staffs' abilities and can rest at night knowing Brennan is in the best capable hands.
We are respected. We are informed. We are constantly checked-up on. The team is patient and kind. They are uber caring. They are vigilant and pro-active. My list goes on and on.
We are so grateful and appreciative of all being done. Too blessed to be stressed!
"Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass."
~ Psalm 37:5
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Riding The Roller Coaster That Is NICU
Due to an emergency C-section with a nearly detached placenta (after dealing with a large subchorionic hematoma), our son Brennan was born at 24 weeks and 4 days. That was nearly 2 weeks ago. He measured 1 pound and 10 ounces in weight, and was 12 inches long... my little foot-long. Also, he looked like a little kidney bean because he was so red in color post delivery.
Brennan cried at birth, a very good sign. And he passed all of his Apgars (Activity, Pulse, Grimace, Appearance and Respiration) tests with 9-9. Awesome! Yes, Little Man held his own - breathing on his own. Another amazing accomplishment.
Brennan was not placed on a ventilator. He didn't need full-on oxygen support. But they did place him on Bubble CPAP. This delivers constant pressure to his airway - there are less complications with Bubble CPAP v.s. ventilation. Did I mention he got very good at blowing bubbles... had his big sister been a witness to this action, she would have been very proud.
He developed a super gassy tummy (being on Bubble CPAP,) which bubbled-out and became firm. So his medical team inserted a tube to suck some of the air back out. I forget what this tube is called.
A couple of days post birth, Mr. Man was showing signs of jaundice, so the nurses placed him under a bili light. He was off and on for a few days... but hasn't been under this light for several days now. Brennan looked like a little snowboarder with his hat and shades.
At seven days post birth, an ultrasound was performed on his brain to check for bleeding. Thankfully the ultrasound results came back clear!!! No bleeding in/around the brain for our tough little guy.
The picc line placed in his right arm was pushed in a little too far. When they pulled it back a bit, things got a little messy. So the team moved the picc line to his left leg. Nurses and docs didn't want the skin on his arm to break down, so they turned down the humidity in his incubator to let things dry out a bit. They also used some sort of medicated tape to help heal his arm.
Brennan has been on and off of drips of my breast milk. He's had one bowel movement that I'm aware of... but has not had one recently. Fingers crossed. Might make him feel a little better.
Oh, Little Man's heart rate dipped a few times, so they did an echo. Results showed a large PDA... open valve in his heart. He was given medicine, and upon performing another echo, results revealed that the hole was smaller. Docs decided not to push more meds. They want to see how he progresses on his own.
Overall, the first week and a half of his life was stellar. He rocked it out! But then things changed...
On Monday, Brennan's team did a nasal swab to test for MRSA. He tested positive. They decided to move him to a different section of the nursery to keep him more isolated. And they started using an antibacterial cream in and around his nose. I was told that just because he tested positive didn't mean he was infected. He started having a few episodes, and his oxygen levels were dropping lower than they should.
On Tuesday, I walked into the nursery to check-up on my sweet boy. Two nurses and a doctor were around Brennan's incubator with the top off... they were hand-pumping air into his lungs, and getting ready to intubate and place him on a ventilator. That is a sight no mother should have to see. Given my (limited) medical background and faith in God, I knew I needed to remain calm and let the staff do their job. I also needed to send up a prayer to God, so He could do His work.
One of the nurses walked with me back out into the hallway to explain everything that was going on. Then she called for Brennan's doctor, to have it explained in more detail. (That is one thing I'm grateful for. Brennan has an amazing medical team. They are so patient, so informative, so caring, so helpful... I feel completely confident in the care they give my son. He is in more-than capable hands.) His doc explained that he was having episodes and that he was acting more like a "sick baby." She seemed to think he might have an infection, so they decided to go ahead and load him up with antibiotics. They also gave him a small dose of morphine that night to help him relax and sleep.
Today's test results showed that he has a staff infection. Now they are testing to see if it's in his blood stream. Brennan's team also gave him a blood transfusion due to being anemic, and the IV was inserted into a vein in his forehead. Poor little guy. Hopefully the blood will perk him up a little and make him feel better.
We were told there would be ups and downs in the NICU... that it would be a roller coaster ride. We just hit our first drop. I'm praying my handsome little guy gets well soon! And that we don't have too many dips, twists, or turns along the way.
Right now we are taking things hour by hour, dip by dip and climb by climb. I'm absolutely claiming the climbs! "This too shall pass..." as my grandmother always used to say. Feels like it can't pass fast enough. I'm looking forward to the day when my baby heals, grows, and can come home with me and stay in my arms.
P.S. Today was a good 'ol, post-preggo, hormonal day for me. Every little thing seemed to make me cry. And then when I got to the hospital, the big things made me cry even more. I think I should have just thrown my hands up in the air and let out a good scream as we took our first dip on the NICU Coaster today. Or perhaps shouted out "Weeeeeee!" Crying makes me puffy, and seeing how I just got swelling to go down in my body, I'm thinking the shout out might have been a little more therapeutic. Just kidding. Sometimes you just need to cry. And that's okay.
Brennan cried at birth, a very good sign. And he passed all of his Apgars (Activity, Pulse, Grimace, Appearance and Respiration) tests with 9-9. Awesome! Yes, Little Man held his own - breathing on his own. Another amazing accomplishment.
Brennan was not placed on a ventilator. He didn't need full-on oxygen support. But they did place him on Bubble CPAP. This delivers constant pressure to his airway - there are less complications with Bubble CPAP v.s. ventilation. Did I mention he got very good at blowing bubbles... had his big sister been a witness to this action, she would have been very proud.
He developed a super gassy tummy (being on Bubble CPAP,) which bubbled-out and became firm. So his medical team inserted a tube to suck some of the air back out. I forget what this tube is called.
A couple of days post birth, Mr. Man was showing signs of jaundice, so the nurses placed him under a bili light. He was off and on for a few days... but hasn't been under this light for several days now. Brennan looked like a little snowboarder with his hat and shades.
At seven days post birth, an ultrasound was performed on his brain to check for bleeding. Thankfully the ultrasound results came back clear!!! No bleeding in/around the brain for our tough little guy.
The picc line placed in his right arm was pushed in a little too far. When they pulled it back a bit, things got a little messy. So the team moved the picc line to his left leg. Nurses and docs didn't want the skin on his arm to break down, so they turned down the humidity in his incubator to let things dry out a bit. They also used some sort of medicated tape to help heal his arm.
Brennan has been on and off of drips of my breast milk. He's had one bowel movement that I'm aware of... but has not had one recently. Fingers crossed. Might make him feel a little better.
Oh, Little Man's heart rate dipped a few times, so they did an echo. Results showed a large PDA... open valve in his heart. He was given medicine, and upon performing another echo, results revealed that the hole was smaller. Docs decided not to push more meds. They want to see how he progresses on his own.
Overall, the first week and a half of his life was stellar. He rocked it out! But then things changed...
On Monday, Brennan's team did a nasal swab to test for MRSA. He tested positive. They decided to move him to a different section of the nursery to keep him more isolated. And they started using an antibacterial cream in and around his nose. I was told that just because he tested positive didn't mean he was infected. He started having a few episodes, and his oxygen levels were dropping lower than they should.
On Tuesday, I walked into the nursery to check-up on my sweet boy. Two nurses and a doctor were around Brennan's incubator with the top off... they were hand-pumping air into his lungs, and getting ready to intubate and place him on a ventilator. That is a sight no mother should have to see. Given my (limited) medical background and faith in God, I knew I needed to remain calm and let the staff do their job. I also needed to send up a prayer to God, so He could do His work.
One of the nurses walked with me back out into the hallway to explain everything that was going on. Then she called for Brennan's doctor, to have it explained in more detail. (That is one thing I'm grateful for. Brennan has an amazing medical team. They are so patient, so informative, so caring, so helpful... I feel completely confident in the care they give my son. He is in more-than capable hands.) His doc explained that he was having episodes and that he was acting more like a "sick baby." She seemed to think he might have an infection, so they decided to go ahead and load him up with antibiotics. They also gave him a small dose of morphine that night to help him relax and sleep.
Today's test results showed that he has a staff infection. Now they are testing to see if it's in his blood stream. Brennan's team also gave him a blood transfusion due to being anemic, and the IV was inserted into a vein in his forehead. Poor little guy. Hopefully the blood will perk him up a little and make him feel better.
We were told there would be ups and downs in the NICU... that it would be a roller coaster ride. We just hit our first drop. I'm praying my handsome little guy gets well soon! And that we don't have too many dips, twists, or turns along the way.
Right now we are taking things hour by hour, dip by dip and climb by climb. I'm absolutely claiming the climbs! "This too shall pass..." as my grandmother always used to say. Feels like it can't pass fast enough. I'm looking forward to the day when my baby heals, grows, and can come home with me and stay in my arms.
P.S. Today was a good 'ol, post-preggo, hormonal day for me. Every little thing seemed to make me cry. And then when I got to the hospital, the big things made me cry even more. I think I should have just thrown my hands up in the air and let out a good scream as we took our first dip on the NICU Coaster today. Or perhaps shouted out "Weeeeeee!" Crying makes me puffy, and seeing how I just got swelling to go down in my body, I'm thinking the shout out might have been a little more therapeutic. Just kidding. Sometimes you just need to cry. And that's okay.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Last Call!
It's closing time. One last call for mommy's milk, so finish your bottle my dear.
When I was nursing my daughter, I pumped for the first 10 days each time after breastfeeding to increase my milk supply. The nursing and extra pumping did not bother me. I was more than happy to do it. I never tired of these tasks. Of course, I didn't have to pump for very long.
This time around, I find that I am getting tired of pumping every 2 hours. Don't get me wrong, I am more than happy to do it. It's best for Brennan and he deserves the best. But man, am I TIRED. Every time I turn around, it's time to pump again.
I guess I probably didn't mind nursing my daughter every two hours-ish because I was able to hold her in my arms. I am unable to hold Brennan, and I feel that I am craving that special bonding time. That, and of course, there were no breast pump parts to wash every time I nursed. Time-saver right there. My hands feel raw, even with lotion, due to the increased washing. I need to have my hubby bring me some dish washing gloves so my skin isn't so irritated... and in turn, maybe I'll be less irritated with pumping.
The last few days have been a little off schedule, and I've been going to bed pretty late. Today, however, I have been able to stay on schedule... and I am about to do my last pump for the night. I'll get to bed before 3:30 AM, wahoo! After the 2 AM pumping, Mommy's Milk Bar will be closed. I'll re-open tomorrow morning and commence liquid gold production.
Must do what we must do. It's important, and totally worth it in the end! One of these days I hope to hold Brennan in my arms, and not the silly, yet totally awesome breast pump.
When I was nursing my daughter, I pumped for the first 10 days each time after breastfeeding to increase my milk supply. The nursing and extra pumping did not bother me. I was more than happy to do it. I never tired of these tasks. Of course, I didn't have to pump for very long.
This time around, I find that I am getting tired of pumping every 2 hours. Don't get me wrong, I am more than happy to do it. It's best for Brennan and he deserves the best. But man, am I TIRED. Every time I turn around, it's time to pump again.
I guess I probably didn't mind nursing my daughter every two hours-ish because I was able to hold her in my arms. I am unable to hold Brennan, and I feel that I am craving that special bonding time. That, and of course, there were no breast pump parts to wash every time I nursed. Time-saver right there. My hands feel raw, even with lotion, due to the increased washing. I need to have my hubby bring me some dish washing gloves so my skin isn't so irritated... and in turn, maybe I'll be less irritated with pumping.
The last few days have been a little off schedule, and I've been going to bed pretty late. Today, however, I have been able to stay on schedule... and I am about to do my last pump for the night. I'll get to bed before 3:30 AM, wahoo! After the 2 AM pumping, Mommy's Milk Bar will be closed. I'll re-open tomorrow morning and commence liquid gold production.
Must do what we must do. It's important, and totally worth it in the end! One of these days I hope to hold Brennan in my arms, and not the silly, yet totally awesome breast pump.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Breast Milk Bandits!?!
Making the choice to breastfeed one's baby is monumental in my book. It requires patience, persistence, and dedication. And let's face it, your breasts will never look the same. To me, one of the most important bonding times between a mother and infant is when they are able to nurse. Not caring what your boobies look like afterwards - priceless!
When you have a premature baby, and are not allowed to hold your baby or nurse your baby due to his gestational age, you have to be committed to pumping your milk in a simulated fashion. Pumping, while it gets the job done, is not exactly the same as nursing. And whether you nurse from the breast, pump, or do a little bit of both, getting your milk supply to come in can be frustrating and discouraging at times.
Choosing to provide your baby with "liquid gold" is a time-consuming task. It can be hard work, but is so totally worth it! And it's definitely rewarding... so many benefits for both mother and baby. No mama should ever fear that what she pumps - an irreplaceable product which her little one needs so much, especially in NICU - will be stolen from her precious bundle of joy.
My hubby and I live a good distance away from the hospital where our son Brennan is admitted. A charity organization has been generous enough to take us in, and give us a place to stay - a block away from the hospital - so we may remain close to our son. The house is very peaceful and relaxing, and has been an absolute blessing in our lives. However, tonight we discovered there are Breast Milk Bandits among us!
I just cannot believe someone would steal breast milk from others! (Yes, I know breast milk is considered "liquid gold" and is a valuable resource... but come on!) The hospital receives donated breast milk from moms who have an excess supply or no longer need what they have pumped, and all the bandits need to do is ask the nurses to supply their baby with the donated reserve. [Get over yourself! Suck up your pride. Don't be embarrassed if you can't produce breast milk. You won't look bad asking for donated milk. It doesn't make you less of a woman or mom. Stealing - that makes you less of a woman and mom!] Stealing breast milk from infants in need who fight for their lives in the NICU is like stealing presents from poor kids at Christmas. It's horrible and pathetic!
Most families here are going through a difficult and stressful time. And some of the mamas here are having difficulty getting their milk supply to come in. To have what little bit you are able to pump and store stolen from you is just awful, and makes me sick to my stomach. "AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!"
Fortunately, I wasn't hit by the bandits earlier. I'm hoping that after I pump, the supply I did have in the community fridge will still be there. I can only imagine how these mamas are feeling. I know I would be pissed! I believe some changes should be made to the system here at the house to give mothers more peace of mind. In the meantime, until such changes take place, I will be storing my milk supply in a cooler in my room.
I believe in this charity organization, and feel that in no way should this unfortunate event reflect poorly upon them. I am sure they will be revising procedure soon. I believe the individuals who committed this crime are responsible, and it's a shame they had to ruin the day for some. So, if I talk about the house in future posts, don't let this one situation make you frown upon them. Frown upon the bandits.
My heart goes out to the mamas and babies affected by the bandits. Prayers uplifted.
When you have a premature baby, and are not allowed to hold your baby or nurse your baby due to his gestational age, you have to be committed to pumping your milk in a simulated fashion. Pumping, while it gets the job done, is not exactly the same as nursing. And whether you nurse from the breast, pump, or do a little bit of both, getting your milk supply to come in can be frustrating and discouraging at times.
Choosing to provide your baby with "liquid gold" is a time-consuming task. It can be hard work, but is so totally worth it! And it's definitely rewarding... so many benefits for both mother and baby. No mama should ever fear that what she pumps - an irreplaceable product which her little one needs so much, especially in NICU - will be stolen from her precious bundle of joy.
My hubby and I live a good distance away from the hospital where our son Brennan is admitted. A charity organization has been generous enough to take us in, and give us a place to stay - a block away from the hospital - so we may remain close to our son. The house is very peaceful and relaxing, and has been an absolute blessing in our lives. However, tonight we discovered there are Breast Milk Bandits among us!
I just cannot believe someone would steal breast milk from others! (Yes, I know breast milk is considered "liquid gold" and is a valuable resource... but come on!) The hospital receives donated breast milk from moms who have an excess supply or no longer need what they have pumped, and all the bandits need to do is ask the nurses to supply their baby with the donated reserve. [Get over yourself! Suck up your pride. Don't be embarrassed if you can't produce breast milk. You won't look bad asking for donated milk. It doesn't make you less of a woman or mom. Stealing - that makes you less of a woman and mom!] Stealing breast milk from infants in need who fight for their lives in the NICU is like stealing presents from poor kids at Christmas. It's horrible and pathetic!
Most families here are going through a difficult and stressful time. And some of the mamas here are having difficulty getting their milk supply to come in. To have what little bit you are able to pump and store stolen from you is just awful, and makes me sick to my stomach. "AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!"
Fortunately, I wasn't hit by the bandits earlier. I'm hoping that after I pump, the supply I did have in the community fridge will still be there. I can only imagine how these mamas are feeling. I know I would be pissed! I believe some changes should be made to the system here at the house to give mothers more peace of mind. In the meantime, until such changes take place, I will be storing my milk supply in a cooler in my room.
I believe in this charity organization, and feel that in no way should this unfortunate event reflect poorly upon them. I am sure they will be revising procedure soon. I believe the individuals who committed this crime are responsible, and it's a shame they had to ruin the day for some. So, if I talk about the house in future posts, don't let this one situation make you frown upon them. Frown upon the bandits.
My heart goes out to the mamas and babies affected by the bandits. Prayers uplifted.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Liquid Gold Update
Today was a better day! I am feeling much more encouraged in the pumping department.
Yesterday, I stated my frustration with pumping breast milk, and I was starting to get discouraged. Over the last few days I'd only been pumping about a mL each session.
But in the wee, early hours of the morning, I pumped a whopping 10 mL! And I've been pumping 10 every two hours since! I am so very excited to share my liquid gold update! I'm hoping tomorrow will produce even better results! I'm thankful the lactation consultant suggested Fenugreek. It seems to be working already!
I'll do everything I can to provide what's best for my little guy. I personally feel breast milk is best - there are just so many benefits to mommy's liquid gold. But science has come a long way too, and there are some great formulas out there. The important thing is that little one gets all of the nutrients he needs to grow healthy and strong. Nom, nom, nom!
Yesterday, I stated my frustration with pumping breast milk, and I was starting to get discouraged. Over the last few days I'd only been pumping about a mL each session.
But in the wee, early hours of the morning, I pumped a whopping 10 mL! And I've been pumping 10 every two hours since! I am so very excited to share my liquid gold update! I'm hoping tomorrow will produce even better results! I'm thankful the lactation consultant suggested Fenugreek. It seems to be working already!
I'll do everything I can to provide what's best for my little guy. I personally feel breast milk is best - there are just so many benefits to mommy's liquid gold. But science has come a long way too, and there are some great formulas out there. The important thing is that little one gets all of the nutrients he needs to grow healthy and strong. Nom, nom, nom!
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Pump, Pump, Pump It Up! *Liquid Gold*
"Pump up the jam, Pump it up!"
Breastfeeding my first child was easy as cake. We didn't have any issues. My milk supply came in on time and never decreased, my daughter latched-on correctly and right away to my breast, I never had any infections, and we were able to nurse for a year and a month.
It has been a week and a day since my son was born premature. I thought my milk supply was coming in on the third day (my breasts started leaking and I would feel it "drop down." Also, I started pumping mega mL.) And then all of a sudden... things slowed back down drastically... and I'm having trouble picking things back up again.
I can't hold my son, and he can't nurse due to his gestational age. So I must rely on the pump. I'm getting plenty of rest. I'm drinking plenty of water. I'm eating well. I've tried massaging my breasts. I nurse bedside in the NICU when I can, and when I can't, I try to picture him. I was unable to pump as frequently as I needed to in the beginning, and I think that's a huge factor as to why milk production slowed. But now I am pumping regularly, and am discouraged by the lack of increase.
I talked with a lactation consultant and she suggested I try an herbal supplement called Fenugreek. It is supposed to help increase milk production. (It makes your urine smell like maple syrup, by the way.) I started taking it yesterday and had two slightly better pumping sessions. But overall, things remain slow to progress. I am not the most patient person in the world when it comes to some things... this being one of them. I suppose I'll just have to wait another day or two and see if the increased number of pumps with the combined use of Fenugreek will stimulate milk flow. I hope so! I want my little man to consume this LIQUID GOLD! Fingers crossed! I just don't want what little bit I am producing to dry up completely.
Once again, this pregnancy and the birth of my second child proves to be completely different from that of my first.
Breastfeeding my first child was easy as cake. We didn't have any issues. My milk supply came in on time and never decreased, my daughter latched-on correctly and right away to my breast, I never had any infections, and we were able to nurse for a year and a month.
It has been a week and a day since my son was born premature. I thought my milk supply was coming in on the third day (my breasts started leaking and I would feel it "drop down." Also, I started pumping mega mL.) And then all of a sudden... things slowed back down drastically... and I'm having trouble picking things back up again.
I can't hold my son, and he can't nurse due to his gestational age. So I must rely on the pump. I'm getting plenty of rest. I'm drinking plenty of water. I'm eating well. I've tried massaging my breasts. I nurse bedside in the NICU when I can, and when I can't, I try to picture him. I was unable to pump as frequently as I needed to in the beginning, and I think that's a huge factor as to why milk production slowed. But now I am pumping regularly, and am discouraged by the lack of increase.
I talked with a lactation consultant and she suggested I try an herbal supplement called Fenugreek. It is supposed to help increase milk production. (It makes your urine smell like maple syrup, by the way.) I started taking it yesterday and had two slightly better pumping sessions. But overall, things remain slow to progress. I am not the most patient person in the world when it comes to some things... this being one of them. I suppose I'll just have to wait another day or two and see if the increased number of pumps with the combined use of Fenugreek will stimulate milk flow. I hope so! I want my little man to consume this LIQUID GOLD! Fingers crossed! I just don't want what little bit I am producing to dry up completely.
Once again, this pregnancy and the birth of my second child proves to be completely different from that of my first.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Cankle-Bangers, Little Piggies, & Stay Puft Marshmellow Legs
I am a sight to behold.
This just in: Cankle-bangers drove by and shot me up with fluid - causing major swelling in my lower extremities several nights ago. Prognosis is fair. It is unknown as to how long I will potentially deal with the aftermath of this swollen situation. Suspects still on the loose, and wanted at large. If you have any information regarding this crime, call 1-000-Edema-Busters. Your call will remain confidential and anonymous. (Note sarcasm. No actual crime and no crime number to call.)
Never heard of the cankle gang? "Cankles" is slang terminology that combines "calves" and "ankles" into one word. This description refers to calves that don't taper down to the ankles. The highlight of this news feed is that I can no longer see my ankles, as my calves and feet have become one, and thus reporting is a must.
Yes, due to this unruly event, from the thighs down in appearance, my legs strongly resemble the image of the Stay Puft Marshmellow [Man's] legs. They are puffy. They are heavy. And it is hard for me to move. Sometimes my legs and feet swell so much that they almost feel numb, and sometimes tingly too. It feels as if my feet could pop off from the ankles at any moment.
As for my little piggies (toes, in case you were wondering)... let's just say they are off to the market soon. And no, they won't be returning home, shouting "Wee wee wee," all the way there. To market, to market, to buy a fat pig... I'd make the butcher happy. LOL
Continued Coverage: The only thing to be done is rest with my feet up, and if possible sleep with my feet elevated above my heart. I can tell ya right now, that won't be happening. I'm having a hard enough time lying flat in the bed after my C-section... let alone try and prop my feet up at the same time. You want the fluid to rush back to your kidneys so you can urinate and flush the fluid out of your system (that's why leg elevation is important.) Also, drinking lots of water should help. It may seem contra-indicative to add fluid to fluid, but water will aid in flushing out the excess fluid. Oh, and perhaps I should give compression hose a go... anything to keep circulation in my lower limbs.
I didn't have to deal with swelling after having my first child. This is just another reminder that every pregnancy is different. The things we go through, and the stories we share along the way in bringing life into this world... Now that's NEWS!
This just in: Cankle-bangers drove by and shot me up with fluid - causing major swelling in my lower extremities several nights ago. Prognosis is fair. It is unknown as to how long I will potentially deal with the aftermath of this swollen situation. Suspects still on the loose, and wanted at large. If you have any information regarding this crime, call 1-000-Edema-Busters. Your call will remain confidential and anonymous. (Note sarcasm. No actual crime and no crime number to call.)
Never heard of the cankle gang? "Cankles" is slang terminology that combines "calves" and "ankles" into one word. This description refers to calves that don't taper down to the ankles. The highlight of this news feed is that I can no longer see my ankles, as my calves and feet have become one, and thus reporting is a must.
Yes, due to this unruly event, from the thighs down in appearance, my legs strongly resemble the image of the Stay Puft Marshmellow [Man's] legs. They are puffy. They are heavy. And it is hard for me to move. Sometimes my legs and feet swell so much that they almost feel numb, and sometimes tingly too. It feels as if my feet could pop off from the ankles at any moment.
As for my little piggies (toes, in case you were wondering)... let's just say they are off to the market soon. And no, they won't be returning home, shouting "Wee wee wee," all the way there. To market, to market, to buy a fat pig... I'd make the butcher happy. LOL
Continued Coverage: The only thing to be done is rest with my feet up, and if possible sleep with my feet elevated above my heart. I can tell ya right now, that won't be happening. I'm having a hard enough time lying flat in the bed after my C-section... let alone try and prop my feet up at the same time. You want the fluid to rush back to your kidneys so you can urinate and flush the fluid out of your system (that's why leg elevation is important.) Also, drinking lots of water should help. It may seem contra-indicative to add fluid to fluid, but water will aid in flushing out the excess fluid. Oh, and perhaps I should give compression hose a go... anything to keep circulation in my lower limbs.
I didn't have to deal with swelling after having my first child. This is just another reminder that every pregnancy is different. The things we go through, and the stories we share along the way in bringing life into this world... Now that's NEWS!
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Simple Note Of Encouragement
"When you look at a field of dandelions, you can either see a hundred weeds or a hundred wishes."
I saw this quote today (author unknown), and it just makes perfect since for our little life right now. Amidst the chaos of an overgrown field of unknown, my husband and I have a choice. We can choose to see all of the negative weeds surrounding Brennan's premature birth; we could focus on every little set-back and pitfall. Or we can choose to triumph in all of the blessings and small victories; we could focus on his blossoming progress made each day. The hubbs and I can and DO choose to see the beauty in the wild flower that is Brennan's early delivery.
How lucky are we to have the opportunity to choose to see the wishes, the positives, the hopefuls? We have been reminded that life is precious and fragile. Every day we are given opportunities to rejoice in our son's miraculous existence. Every day we are given opportunities to love and be thankful.
I offer the above quote as a simple note of encouragement. Whether you are dealing with a complicated pregnancy, premature birth, or a situation that is entirely different, I say, "Chin up, Buttercup!"
Stay positive. Look for the beauty in the moment. See the possibilities. See a hundred wishes. If you can find an ounce of joy in the most difficult of times, you will always find a bit of peace and happiness, and your life will continue to exceed it's grandeur.
[And if you need assistance finding the wishes, never hesitate to ask. There are many valuable resources, gardeners if you will, available and out there who love to help plant seeds of happiness and hope.]
Hundreds of Best Wishes!
I saw this quote today (author unknown), and it just makes perfect since for our little life right now. Amidst the chaos of an overgrown field of unknown, my husband and I have a choice. We can choose to see all of the negative weeds surrounding Brennan's premature birth; we could focus on every little set-back and pitfall. Or we can choose to triumph in all of the blessings and small victories; we could focus on his blossoming progress made each day. The hubbs and I can and DO choose to see the beauty in the wild flower that is Brennan's early delivery.
How lucky are we to have the opportunity to choose to see the wishes, the positives, the hopefuls? We have been reminded that life is precious and fragile. Every day we are given opportunities to rejoice in our son's miraculous existence. Every day we are given opportunities to love and be thankful.
I offer the above quote as a simple note of encouragement. Whether you are dealing with a complicated pregnancy, premature birth, or a situation that is entirely different, I say, "Chin up, Buttercup!"
Stay positive. Look for the beauty in the moment. See the possibilities. See a hundred wishes. If you can find an ounce of joy in the most difficult of times, you will always find a bit of peace and happiness, and your life will continue to exceed it's grandeur.
[And if you need assistance finding the wishes, never hesitate to ask. There are many valuable resources, gardeners if you will, available and out there who love to help plant seeds of happiness and hope.]
Hundreds of Best Wishes!
Monday, May 13, 2013
Unexpected Surprises
Well, nothing about my second pregnancy went according to the general plan. And nothing about my previous week has been as expected.
I fully intended to update everyone on my extended stay in the hospital. I thought I would have plenty of time to post updates as I awaited the arrival of my bouncing baby boy. I thought my little man was going to settle down. I thought he would take his precious time in growing and developing inside my womb before he made his entrance into this fragile world.
That was not the case.
Cinco de Mayo rolled around and my kiddo decided it was time to party. So, one week ago, I checked into the local hospital for monitoring due to the passing of large blood clots and mild contractions (in connection with my large, subchorionic hematoma.)
My water broke at the local hospital, and they transferred me to a larger hospital that was better staffed and equipped to handle the possible arrival of a premature baby.
It's a good thing they transferred me. The larger hospital was able to stop labor twice throughout this past week. But then early Friday morning, my husband and I received an unexpected surprise.
Our son was delivered by emergency C-section on Friday, May 10, 2013. He was 24 weeks and 4 days, 1 pound and 10 ounces, and 12 inches long - my little foot-long!
To our additional surprise, we were told he cried upon delivery. He was breathing on his own. And he passed his Apgar's tests with 9-9! This is an amazing feat for one born so premature.
Our baby boy has had 3 successful, uncomplicated days of life in this world so far. The nurses rave about his "stellar" performance. However, we know we have a very long road ahead of us. We celebrate the good days. We assume there could be some tough days ahead - yet we are not going to focus on those possibilities. Again, we are going to take things one day at a time, and count our blessings along the way. One small victory at a time, and hopefully we'll be able to take our little man home one day soon.
We appreciate everyone's friendship, support and prayers. My family and I are very blessed.
(Hopefully, I'll be able to go back and write about my experience over the past week. Must heal first... but stay tuned for more updates.)
I fully intended to update everyone on my extended stay in the hospital. I thought I would have plenty of time to post updates as I awaited the arrival of my bouncing baby boy. I thought my little man was going to settle down. I thought he would take his precious time in growing and developing inside my womb before he made his entrance into this fragile world.
That was not the case.
Cinco de Mayo rolled around and my kiddo decided it was time to party. So, one week ago, I checked into the local hospital for monitoring due to the passing of large blood clots and mild contractions (in connection with my large, subchorionic hematoma.)
My water broke at the local hospital, and they transferred me to a larger hospital that was better staffed and equipped to handle the possible arrival of a premature baby.
It's a good thing they transferred me. The larger hospital was able to stop labor twice throughout this past week. But then early Friday morning, my husband and I received an unexpected surprise.
Our son was delivered by emergency C-section on Friday, May 10, 2013. He was 24 weeks and 4 days, 1 pound and 10 ounces, and 12 inches long - my little foot-long!
To our additional surprise, we were told he cried upon delivery. He was breathing on his own. And he passed his Apgar's tests with 9-9! This is an amazing feat for one born so premature.
Our baby boy has had 3 successful, uncomplicated days of life in this world so far. The nurses rave about his "stellar" performance. However, we know we have a very long road ahead of us. We celebrate the good days. We assume there could be some tough days ahead - yet we are not going to focus on those possibilities. Again, we are going to take things one day at a time, and count our blessings along the way. One small victory at a time, and hopefully we'll be able to take our little man home one day soon.
We appreciate everyone's friendship, support and prayers. My family and I are very blessed.
(Hopefully, I'll be able to go back and write about my experience over the past week. Must heal first... but stay tuned for more updates.)
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
MIA
Sorry I have been M*I*A (Missing In Action) for a few days... but baby and I have had A LOT of issues going on. Be prepared for numerous blog updates. :)
Seriously, so much has happened in the last 54 hours, I don't even know where to begin. That's why I think I'll break it up into several blogs... that way I don't overwhelm anyone with a 2 day novel. I'll try to give short stories instead.
So here goes... stay tuned!
(Oh! And it is so wonderful having access to my laptop again! I feel connected!)
Seriously, so much has happened in the last 54 hours, I don't even know where to begin. That's why I think I'll break it up into several blogs... that way I don't overwhelm anyone with a 2 day novel. I'll try to give short stories instead.
So here goes... stay tuned!
(Oh! And it is so wonderful having access to my laptop again! I feel connected!)
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Bloggity Blog Blog - Challenge Accepted
Blog Challenge: Day 1
I've been keeping up with a friend who blogs, and she recently started a Blog Challenge. After reading some of her posts, I thought it looked like fun. For me, it's all about getting back to the basics of writing. (Okay, maybe not.) Or, if you have writer's block, it supplies a few themes to get those words a cranking. (I'm not at a loss of words yet, but just in case I run out of topics, I would like to be prepared.) In a way, I feel this blog challenge will help you get to know me better. (Maybe that's why I actually decided to do this... Perhaps I have a few skeletons in my closet you don't know about... Oh! Intrigue!)
A song comes to mind: Getting to Know You. Insert lyrics:
"Getting to know you,
Getting to know all about you.
Getting to like you,
Getting to hope you'll like me.
Getting to know you,
Putting it my way,
But nicely,
You are precisely,
My cup of tea...
Getting to know you,
Getting to feel free and easy
When I am with you,
Getting to know what to say
Haven't you noticed
Suddenly I'm bright and breezy?
Because of all the beauty and new
Things I'm learning about you
Day by day."
Lyrics from <a href="http://www.elyrics.net">eLyrics.net</a>
May 1st's topic was the story of your life in 250 words or less. Now, that is a challenge!
I was born in a box (the hospital) and rode home in a box (the car.) I lived in a box (my parent's house.) Then we moved around and lived in a few different boxes (yep, other houses.) One day, I found myself living in a box full of other boxes (college dorms), and couldn't figure out what I was doing there. So, I left. I met a man and we decided to move into a box (apartment) together. Then we adopted one cat and one dog, and they joined us in our happily little box. After several years, I flew in a box (airplane... which I'd done several times before) so my husband and I could have a better life. I temporarily lived in one large, open box (military barracks), and shared said box with approximately 50 other women. Then I was reunited with the hubbs to live in a box (military housing) by the sea. We moved to several other boxes (houses) during my time in the military. When I found out I swallowed a packing peanut (J/K... I got pregnant with my daughter), I left the military and moved closer to my original box (home.) Found another packing peanut (pregnant with baby 2), and the current plan is to deliver and live happily ever after... in a bigger BOX.
[And I have 28 words to spare!!! Boom!]
Living & thinking outside the BOX - far more interesting than being trapped inside the BOX... agreed? Moral of story: seize life, every opportunity, every moment... live to the fullest!
I've been keeping up with a friend who blogs, and she recently started a Blog Challenge. After reading some of her posts, I thought it looked like fun. For me, it's all about getting back to the basics of writing. (Okay, maybe not.) Or, if you have writer's block, it supplies a few themes to get those words a cranking. (I'm not at a loss of words yet, but just in case I run out of topics, I would like to be prepared.) In a way, I feel this blog challenge will help you get to know me better. (Maybe that's why I actually decided to do this... Perhaps I have a few skeletons in my closet you don't know about... Oh! Intrigue!)
A song comes to mind: Getting to Know You. Insert lyrics:
"Getting to know you,
Getting to know all about you.
Getting to like you,
Getting to hope you'll like me.
Getting to know you,
Putting it my way,
But nicely,
You are precisely,
My cup of tea...
Getting to know you,
Getting to feel free and easy
When I am with you,
Getting to know what to say
Haven't you noticed
Suddenly I'm bright and breezy?
Because of all the beauty and new
Things I'm learning about you
Day by day."
Lyrics from <a href="http://www.elyrics.net">eLyrics.net</a>
May 1st's topic was the story of your life in 250 words or less. Now, that is a challenge!
I was born in a box (the hospital) and rode home in a box (the car.) I lived in a box (my parent's house.) Then we moved around and lived in a few different boxes (yep, other houses.) One day, I found myself living in a box full of other boxes (college dorms), and couldn't figure out what I was doing there. So, I left. I met a man and we decided to move into a box (apartment) together. Then we adopted one cat and one dog, and they joined us in our happily little box. After several years, I flew in a box (airplane... which I'd done several times before) so my husband and I could have a better life. I temporarily lived in one large, open box (military barracks), and shared said box with approximately 50 other women. Then I was reunited with the hubbs to live in a box (military housing) by the sea. We moved to several other boxes (houses) during my time in the military. When I found out I swallowed a packing peanut (J/K... I got pregnant with my daughter), I left the military and moved closer to my original box (home.) Found another packing peanut (pregnant with baby 2), and the current plan is to deliver and live happily ever after... in a bigger BOX.
[And I have 28 words to spare!!! Boom!]
Living & thinking outside the BOX - far more interesting than being trapped inside the BOX... agreed? Moral of story: seize life, every opportunity, every moment... live to the fullest!
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