What is one of the most frustrating things for a mom with babes in the NICU? To get a COLD! That's right, the sniffles, the cough, the sinus congestion. Which means ... no baby holding.
Such was the evil that visited itself upon me last week. But I am finally healthy again, and so I held and bottle fed two babies today. They are doing well, both are gaining weight and improving at taking the bottle. But both still have spells of bradycardia and occasional apnea. We are entering our third week in the NICU, and likely have more to go. But we are pleased at their progress and eagerly awaiting their discharge. Unfortunately, it looks as though that may fall after Resident Boy needs to start work. So that means I may be making the transcontinental drive with some other family member instead.
Things have been busy with paying bills, organizing our stuff and shopping for a new car. And now that the babies are eating more, I really have to step up the pumping. Which sucks. I spend more time setting up and breaking down the pumping stuff than actually pumping. I can not wait to give them a try at breastfeeding, but I know that the pumping is still going to be happening for awhile, especially with the drive cross-county.
Oh, I need help (okay, lots of it but that is another story). I don't want to use the babies' real names, I don't want to use initials. They need nick-names, but I never came up with anything when they were in my belly -- and now I'm too tired to get really creative now that they are out. You know big brother is The Snake (for rhyming reasons), and Dad will need a new name now that he is no longer a resident. But I don't have much of a theme to work with. So I'm opening the forum for suggestions. Let me know what you think. I'll do my best to rack my brain too, but don't count on anything brilliant.
A bunch of little things happened on Friday (non-baby-related) that I want to blog about -- but they need my full attention and it is almost time to pump (again!). So look forward to topics like Pop-eye Transvestite and lipstick at the dinner table.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
The Birth
Like the previous seventeen days in the hospital, June 26th began with a blood draw. Then a visit from the resident, the nurse's aid, the arrival of the breakfast tray. It was just like all the others. The morning routine had its own rhythm, unvaried over the course of my stay. No reason to think it would change. 31 weeks and 1 day.
By mid-morning the nurse arrived to set me up for monitoring of the babies' heart rates and any contractions. We had finally mastered getting the two babes tracings separated, as their chests were lying right next to one another in my belly. There was a little trick, which I showed each new nurse. Baby boy needed just the right angle, and like magic, there were two clearly different heart beats. But that morning turned out a bit different.
Initially, all was fine. But about half way through monitoring our boy had a brief deceleration in his heart rate, dropping down to the 80s before we lost his tracing altogether. His heart beat was quickly found again and he rebounded back to the 140s. The supposition was that he had briefly compressed his umbilical cord, not surprising with his low amniotic fluid levels from the rupture. We opted to monitor for a bit longer than usual, and just before stopping he had another deceleration. These episodes were not linked to any contractions, although I had been having some occasionally for several days, but without regularity.
The attending MFM sent me down to the Labor and Delivery floor for a period of continuous monitoring. Resident Boy arrived to be with me, and we got all set up for the duration. Still the consensus was that I would be there for the afternoon and likely return to the 5th floor by evening. Of course my darling surgeon husband cautioned me not to eat lunch, on the chance I was headed to c-section. I scoffed and teased him, as did the nurses. And promptly asked for at least a popsicle.
I lounged through a couple hours of monitor and a sonogram of the babies, with no relevant problems. A friend stopped by, ironically the friend whom I was visiting when my membranes ruptured. Then the labor/delivery attending stopped in to introduce himself. He asked basic questions, including asking if I was having any contractions. To which I answered no. Then Resident Boy watches as the tocometer begins to climb. The attending exits, commenting that I would likely be monitored for a bit longer and then be sent back upstairs. (Yeah, right) I promptly begin having the largest contraction I've had in the hospital, and proceed to continue contracting every 8-10 minutes. So much for going back to my cushy room up on five.
Baby Boy does not like the contractions. His heart rate routinely drops after each one, generally recovering fairly quickly. They quickly set me up with IV fluids and oxygen, have me lie on my left side to try and keep Baby Boy happier. The contractions do ease in intensity somewhat, but continue to come. The doctors briefly put out hope that maybe the contractions will stop, but my husband and I both know this is the end of bedrest.
By now it is evening and after about 40 minutes, the doctors concede that it seems unlikely that the contractions will abate. And our boy is still not liking them. The decision is made by all that c-section is the best choice to keep everyone safe. Luckily by this time, my last heparin dose is about 12 hours old, so I can have a spinal and be awake for the delivery.
Things move quite quickly from there out. Fortunately, the labor floor is quiet and everyone can move efficiently, but without being overly rushed. Resident Boy knows the anesthesia resident, and fortunately he is only days from completing his residency. (one week later, and I could have had a much greener resident) He does a great job with the spinal, and I am quickly prepped for the section.
Having never had any type of surgery before, the sensations were strange. I was fortunate not to get nausea or other types of side effects of the spinal. The surgeons delivered our little girl first, and I was relieve to hear a tiny cry from her. One minute later, our boy was delivered with a similar little cry. My husband was right there at the isolettes watching all that was done.
Within a few minutes it was determined that our girl would need intubation and likely surfactant to help her breathe. Our boy looked a little better initially, but within minutes required the same therapy. Everyone assured me they both looked very good and they were doing fine.
It was hard to hear everyone bustling around and caring for them, but not to be able to see anything. My husband popped back to me every few minutes, but most of the time I could not see him either. While they sewed me up, I still had not seen my babies. They whisked them off to the NICU, and I could hardly see into the isolettes. While I knew this was the best thing for them, it was difficult. And I was so disappointed that they needed to be placed on the ventilator. I understood how important it was for them to have that assistance, but I had secretly hoped that my babies would manage to avoid it.
My recovery from the spinal was smooth, and they took me up to the NICU to see my little ones. It was hard to just look at them. Not touch them or smell them. To see their faces covered with tubes and tape. To see just how tiny they were. To have too much knowledge, and to know all the pitfalls that could lie ahead.
As you may already know, we were blessed. So far these tiny infants have shown themselves to be incredibly strong and resilient. This week they have been making small strides in gaining weight, and the only tubes in their bodies are the nasogastric feeding tubes. We are so fortunate.
Shane David and Rebecca Ann, the first time they were reunited.
By mid-morning the nurse arrived to set me up for monitoring of the babies' heart rates and any contractions. We had finally mastered getting the two babes tracings separated, as their chests were lying right next to one another in my belly. There was a little trick, which I showed each new nurse. Baby boy needed just the right angle, and like magic, there were two clearly different heart beats. But that morning turned out a bit different.
Initially, all was fine. But about half way through monitoring our boy had a brief deceleration in his heart rate, dropping down to the 80s before we lost his tracing altogether. His heart beat was quickly found again and he rebounded back to the 140s. The supposition was that he had briefly compressed his umbilical cord, not surprising with his low amniotic fluid levels from the rupture. We opted to monitor for a bit longer than usual, and just before stopping he had another deceleration. These episodes were not linked to any contractions, although I had been having some occasionally for several days, but without regularity.
The attending MFM sent me down to the Labor and Delivery floor for a period of continuous monitoring. Resident Boy arrived to be with me, and we got all set up for the duration. Still the consensus was that I would be there for the afternoon and likely return to the 5th floor by evening. Of course my darling surgeon husband cautioned me not to eat lunch, on the chance I was headed to c-section. I scoffed and teased him, as did the nurses. And promptly asked for at least a popsicle.
I lounged through a couple hours of monitor and a sonogram of the babies, with no relevant problems. A friend stopped by, ironically the friend whom I was visiting when my membranes ruptured. Then the labor/delivery attending stopped in to introduce himself. He asked basic questions, including asking if I was having any contractions. To which I answered no. Then Resident Boy watches as the tocometer begins to climb. The attending exits, commenting that I would likely be monitored for a bit longer and then be sent back upstairs. (Yeah, right) I promptly begin having the largest contraction I've had in the hospital, and proceed to continue contracting every 8-10 minutes. So much for going back to my cushy room up on five.
Baby Boy does not like the contractions. His heart rate routinely drops after each one, generally recovering fairly quickly. They quickly set me up with IV fluids and oxygen, have me lie on my left side to try and keep Baby Boy happier. The contractions do ease in intensity somewhat, but continue to come. The doctors briefly put out hope that maybe the contractions will stop, but my husband and I both know this is the end of bedrest.
By now it is evening and after about 40 minutes, the doctors concede that it seems unlikely that the contractions will abate. And our boy is still not liking them. The decision is made by all that c-section is the best choice to keep everyone safe. Luckily by this time, my last heparin dose is about 12 hours old, so I can have a spinal and be awake for the delivery.
Things move quite quickly from there out. Fortunately, the labor floor is quiet and everyone can move efficiently, but without being overly rushed. Resident Boy knows the anesthesia resident, and fortunately he is only days from completing his residency. (one week later, and I could have had a much greener resident) He does a great job with the spinal, and I am quickly prepped for the section.
Having never had any type of surgery before, the sensations were strange. I was fortunate not to get nausea or other types of side effects of the spinal. The surgeons delivered our little girl first, and I was relieve to hear a tiny cry from her. One minute later, our boy was delivered with a similar little cry. My husband was right there at the isolettes watching all that was done.
Within a few minutes it was determined that our girl would need intubation and likely surfactant to help her breathe. Our boy looked a little better initially, but within minutes required the same therapy. Everyone assured me they both looked very good and they were doing fine.
It was hard to hear everyone bustling around and caring for them, but not to be able to see anything. My husband popped back to me every few minutes, but most of the time I could not see him either. While they sewed me up, I still had not seen my babies. They whisked them off to the NICU, and I could hardly see into the isolettes. While I knew this was the best thing for them, it was difficult. And I was so disappointed that they needed to be placed on the ventilator. I understood how important it was for them to have that assistance, but I had secretly hoped that my babies would manage to avoid it.
My recovery from the spinal was smooth, and they took me up to the NICU to see my little ones. It was hard to just look at them. Not touch them or smell them. To see their faces covered with tubes and tape. To see just how tiny they were. To have too much knowledge, and to know all the pitfalls that could lie ahead.
As you may already know, we were blessed. So far these tiny infants have shown themselves to be incredibly strong and resilient. This week they have been making small strides in gaining weight, and the only tubes in their bodies are the nasogastric feeding tubes. We are so fortunate.
Shane David and Rebecca Ann, the first time they were reunited.Friday, July 4, 2008
Transitions
Baby update:
Yesterday was the babies 1-week birthday, and we got a special surprise -- we got to offer them their first bottles. Our boy had to stay in his isolette since he still had an umbilical IV, but it was still wonderful. Initially the doctors had said they would need to be 33 weeks gestational age to try this, but they have been doing so well, that they decided to go for it. Both babies managed a few mls, and gave a few good suck-swallows (what google searches will that snag?).
Today, our boy had his umbilical IV removed and I got to hold him for the first time. He was very alert and looking all around. After we took the bottle away, he kept trying to suck his fingers or thumb and did a pretty good job at it! Our girlie was pretty pooped out today and didn't do as well as yesterday, but slept like an angel in Daddy's arms.
Mommy update:
Overall, I'm doing okay, but feel a little blue tonight. I'm healing quickly and thrilled the babies are doing so well. Our friends, who we are staying with now that the house is sold, are wonderful and generous with their space and time. I'm with my loving husband. But ... my first born has been away for nearly a month (staying with grandparents and aunt 2 hours away). When I was in the hospital, it was easy since it was impossible to care for him, and neither could Resident Boy while he finished work. But now we are both home and I am getting stronger. Still, I'm not sure I'm ready to totally care for him on my own, and my husband has to study for his boards. The Snake is really enjoying the camp he is going to with his cousin, but tonight he apparently had a rough night. It gets tough for him right before he comes home for the weekend. And he knows I am home from the hospital, and it is hard for a 5-year-old to understand why he can't be with me now.
I'm struggling with lots of conflicting emotions. At the grocery the other day I was flooded with envy as a saw a pregnant woman. All those bitter IF feelings rose right to the surface. Why couldn't it have been easy for me? Why did these things have to happen to us? Why does our life have to be in chaos? That sense of unfairness just surged through me. I am confused at not feeling pregnant any longer. The entire experience just feels truncated. Amputated. Artificial. While I know that we are blessed that our babies are healthy and doing very well under the circumstances, I feel so disconnected from the entire situation. We sit and plan about car seats and what to do when the babies come home, but it feels unreal, surreal.
We are rootless. I exited the hospital and entered no-man's-land. I have no idea when we will reach California or how I will establish a home there. I never saw my first house again. I never took a moment to cherish the memories we made there. Our first home, our first child.
I am tired. I am tired of turmoil. I am tired of upheaval. I want simple mornings, peaceful afternoons, tranquil evenings. Unlikely any of that will come soon, I suppose.
Know that I am only a bit down tonight and need to spew these feeling out. I'm sorry that I so often share the tough days and not always the happy ones. Tomorrow the sun will shine, The Snake will be here and I will move forward. There will be smiles, of that I'm sure. And each time I hold my babies they will be bound closer to my heart.
Birth story and pictures soon, I promise.
Yesterday was the babies 1-week birthday, and we got a special surprise -- we got to offer them their first bottles. Our boy had to stay in his isolette since he still had an umbilical IV, but it was still wonderful. Initially the doctors had said they would need to be 33 weeks gestational age to try this, but they have been doing so well, that they decided to go for it. Both babies managed a few mls, and gave a few good suck-swallows (what google searches will that snag?).
Today, our boy had his umbilical IV removed and I got to hold him for the first time. He was very alert and looking all around. After we took the bottle away, he kept trying to suck his fingers or thumb and did a pretty good job at it! Our girlie was pretty pooped out today and didn't do as well as yesterday, but slept like an angel in Daddy's arms.
Mommy update:
Overall, I'm doing okay, but feel a little blue tonight. I'm healing quickly and thrilled the babies are doing so well. Our friends, who we are staying with now that the house is sold, are wonderful and generous with their space and time. I'm with my loving husband. But ... my first born has been away for nearly a month (staying with grandparents and aunt 2 hours away). When I was in the hospital, it was easy since it was impossible to care for him, and neither could Resident Boy while he finished work. But now we are both home and I am getting stronger. Still, I'm not sure I'm ready to totally care for him on my own, and my husband has to study for his boards. The Snake is really enjoying the camp he is going to with his cousin, but tonight he apparently had a rough night. It gets tough for him right before he comes home for the weekend. And he knows I am home from the hospital, and it is hard for a 5-year-old to understand why he can't be with me now.
I'm struggling with lots of conflicting emotions. At the grocery the other day I was flooded with envy as a saw a pregnant woman. All those bitter IF feelings rose right to the surface. Why couldn't it have been easy for me? Why did these things have to happen to us? Why does our life have to be in chaos? That sense of unfairness just surged through me. I am confused at not feeling pregnant any longer. The entire experience just feels truncated. Amputated. Artificial. While I know that we are blessed that our babies are healthy and doing very well under the circumstances, I feel so disconnected from the entire situation. We sit and plan about car seats and what to do when the babies come home, but it feels unreal, surreal.
We are rootless. I exited the hospital and entered no-man's-land. I have no idea when we will reach California or how I will establish a home there. I never saw my first house again. I never took a moment to cherish the memories we made there. Our first home, our first child.
I am tired. I am tired of turmoil. I am tired of upheaval. I want simple mornings, peaceful afternoons, tranquil evenings. Unlikely any of that will come soon, I suppose.
Know that I am only a bit down tonight and need to spew these feeling out. I'm sorry that I so often share the tough days and not always the happy ones. Tomorrow the sun will shine, The Snake will be here and I will move forward. There will be smiles, of that I'm sure. And each time I hold my babies they will be bound closer to my heart.
Birth story and pictures soon, I promise.
Monday, June 30, 2008
No Longer Hangin' -- Babies Arrived
On Thursday, June 26 at 8:18 and 8:19 pm our little boy and little girl arrived via C-section (2.5 and 3.5 pounds respectively).
They have made huge strides in the four days they have been in this world. Initially intubated, given surfactant and placed on a ventilator -- now they are breathing room air. Both are now tolerating oral feedings through the OG tube. They are tiny, but look good.
The experience has been overwhelming and the logistics of our lives continues to be wildly complicated. But we are keeping our heads above water.
I'll post more with the birth story and updates soon. But tonight is my first night out of the hospital in 21 days, and it is time to sleep. Thank you for all your encouragement and support.
They have made huge strides in the four days they have been in this world. Initially intubated, given surfactant and placed on a ventilator -- now they are breathing room air. Both are now tolerating oral feedings through the OG tube. They are tiny, but look good.
The experience has been overwhelming and the logistics of our lives continues to be wildly complicated. But we are keeping our heads above water.
I'll post more with the birth story and updates soon. But tonight is my first night out of the hospital in 21 days, and it is time to sleep. Thank you for all your encouragement and support.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Still Hangin' In
Ahhh -- finally an internet connection! So this will be quick and not well crafted post, before I lose the connection.
First things first -- babies still in the belly. Ten days in and now at 30 weeks and 2 days. No signs of labor or infection so far. I have had a few more intermittent contractions the last 2 days, but I think the babies have grown too and there's been a lot of stretching and discomfort from that.
My only treatment now is twice a day heparin to prevent blood clots, and my vitamins and precious colace. The main thing is lots of monitoring to be sure the babies are doing fine. I get monitored 3 times a day, and those stinkers are not always cooperative. Occasionally we get a beautiful strip, but often they move around (especially the girl) and then we wind up monitoring only one baby. I was getting biophysical profiles daily, but since I tended to obsess about little boy's fluid levels (he's the ruptured one) they opted to go to every other, especially since I've been so stable.
One nurse compared each day in utero as saving us 3 days in the NICU. So today I had her again, and she congratulated me that with 10 days on bed rest I've saved a month in the NICU. Cool, huh?
But the tour we took of the NICU the other night was a bit daunting. I wasn't totally shocked by the size of some babies, but I just keep thinking about the fact that they were probably singletons, and my babies would not be as big as those I was seeing. Although I know twins mature a little faster and have that advantage, and that I received steroids -- it is still tough to think about how tiny less than 3 pounds will be. If I get through the weekend, I think we will finally get another full scan with the ultrasound tech and do measurements to estimate size. If they are both over that 3 pound mark I'll be happy, cause I think a lot of stats are better for babies over 1500 grams.
As for the rest of life, it seems to be falling into place as everyone has suggested it will. Resident Boy's family has arrived to stay in the neighboring Canadian city where The Snake is staying with his aunt. So there will be three adults to oversee him and his cousin. The in-laws also helped clean out a bunch of the house junk, and will help finish up again next week. Best of all Resident Boy's LAST day was today! Huzzhah! So, now he will focus on studying for his boards in July. He will forgo the review course that is far away. I was selfish and told him I was not comfortable with him being in a remote area of New England with no simple direct flights back to our city. Being on heparin means if I go for emergent C-section that I can't have a spinal or epidural, only general. I'm not happy about that in general, but especially not if he was out of town. Someone needs to be available to make medical decisions.
The Snake is doing okay with being away, but when his cousin goes to her father's on his custody days it's a little tougher for him. Last night he called and worriedly asked if he would have to spend the entire summer with his aunt. I told him I wasn't sure, but didn't think so, but we would have to see. How helpful was that? The uncertainty was hard for him (gee, where do you think he gets that from?). I'm hoping once the babies actually come and we have a better idea of time lines that we can settle him better.
I'd better post this before I lose my connection. Thanks for all the good thoughts, prayers and well wishes! I'll do my best to keep you updated. Hoping you all are doing well.
First things first -- babies still in the belly. Ten days in and now at 30 weeks and 2 days. No signs of labor or infection so far. I have had a few more intermittent contractions the last 2 days, but I think the babies have grown too and there's been a lot of stretching and discomfort from that.
My only treatment now is twice a day heparin to prevent blood clots, and my vitamins and precious colace. The main thing is lots of monitoring to be sure the babies are doing fine. I get monitored 3 times a day, and those stinkers are not always cooperative. Occasionally we get a beautiful strip, but often they move around (especially the girl) and then we wind up monitoring only one baby. I was getting biophysical profiles daily, but since I tended to obsess about little boy's fluid levels (he's the ruptured one) they opted to go to every other, especially since I've been so stable.
One nurse compared each day in utero as saving us 3 days in the NICU. So today I had her again, and she congratulated me that with 10 days on bed rest I've saved a month in the NICU. Cool, huh?
But the tour we took of the NICU the other night was a bit daunting. I wasn't totally shocked by the size of some babies, but I just keep thinking about the fact that they were probably singletons, and my babies would not be as big as those I was seeing. Although I know twins mature a little faster and have that advantage, and that I received steroids -- it is still tough to think about how tiny less than 3 pounds will be. If I get through the weekend, I think we will finally get another full scan with the ultrasound tech and do measurements to estimate size. If they are both over that 3 pound mark I'll be happy, cause I think a lot of stats are better for babies over 1500 grams.
As for the rest of life, it seems to be falling into place as everyone has suggested it will. Resident Boy's family has arrived to stay in the neighboring Canadian city where The Snake is staying with his aunt. So there will be three adults to oversee him and his cousin. The in-laws also helped clean out a bunch of the house junk, and will help finish up again next week. Best of all Resident Boy's LAST day was today! Huzzhah! So, now he will focus on studying for his boards in July. He will forgo the review course that is far away. I was selfish and told him I was not comfortable with him being in a remote area of New England with no simple direct flights back to our city. Being on heparin means if I go for emergent C-section that I can't have a spinal or epidural, only general. I'm not happy about that in general, but especially not if he was out of town. Someone needs to be available to make medical decisions.
The Snake is doing okay with being away, but when his cousin goes to her father's on his custody days it's a little tougher for him. Last night he called and worriedly asked if he would have to spend the entire summer with his aunt. I told him I wasn't sure, but didn't think so, but we would have to see. How helpful was that? The uncertainty was hard for him (gee, where do you think he gets that from?). I'm hoping once the babies actually come and we have a better idea of time lines that we can settle him better.
I'd better post this before I lose my connection. Thanks for all the good thoughts, prayers and well wishes! I'll do my best to keep you updated. Hoping you all are doing well.
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