I can’t believe that my sweet baby Spence is almost one year old. While his entrance was not unique, as I am sure my experiences related to his arrival were not unique, I still feel compelled to document the beginning of our year one “adventure”. Strangely enough, I have tried on numerous occasions to journal his arrival and my feelings surrounding it, but it was such an emotional time, that after taking just a few notes, I could not stop crying (I am a total whimp, and I admit it). So, this is my third official (in writing – the mental attemps are too many to count) try to get this on paper so that when he is an adult, I can remember the details. I am a detail person and so many people I know forget the details during labor, etc, so here we are.
We found out I was pregnant on Good Friday 2008. I was blessed to easily get pregnant, and I had an amazing pregnancy and loved every minute of it. No morning sickness, no complications, no baby kicking in the middle of the night. Due date: November 27 (Thanksgiving day!) Okay, so I got REALLY big (gained at least 40 lbs in 33 weeks), and did pee a lot. In the big scheme of things, these were very welcome annoyances. In July we found out it was a boy, and all of our visits to the doctor were routine. Following a usual 6 month mole screening (I have so many moles that I see my dermatologist more than any other doc) on September 18th, right before a birthing class, I received a call that my most recently biopsied mole was melanoma. I was assured that it had not likely spread and a quick surgery to remove it was our best course of action. Even though I would be put under, the baby would be in the least amount of danger in this way. While this was a terrifying experience, I trusted that the doctors knew best. I talked to all of them, the cancer surgeon, my dermatologist, and my ob/gyn and they were all confident that we would both be fine. Once the surgery was over on September 25th and I heard little Spence’s heart beat, I was at peace with my decision. Less than two weeks later, I was comforted again when my surgeon told me they got it all, wound looked great, etc. Did I mention the melanoma was in the middle of my giant stretched out belly? Well, it looked like a big stab wound, but again, I was healing great and the melanoma was gone and it wasn’t like I was going to show off my hot bikini bod anytime soon.
So, on Wednesday, October 8, 2008, I started having some “suspicious” signs. I spoke with the nurse, and she assured me there was nothing to worry about. Several people will remember me predicting the first week in November, and although that was my prediction, we were hoping for the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I had intended on a long labor and thought it best that there was football on ALL day to keep us entertained, but still at home with our sweet boy for the holiday. (Wow, I had so much more to say than I realized J - nothing new there). On Friday, October 10, 2008, Mike and I decided we should take advantage of one of our last nights out. We went to our favorite restaurant, Kotta Sushi for dinner with two other expectant couples (Thevenot’s, due 10/26 and Ramey’s, due 2/14/09). Because Casey was due in just a couple of weeks, she felt ready. We joked throughout dinner that she hoped the spicy sushi would trigger Miss Logan’s entrance. I on the other hand, was just starting to think about packing a hospital case and still felt great and loved having the little peanut safe and cozy inside. (Yes, I know sushi while pregnant is frowned upon…this was my first cheat, and it was all cooked! I was overly anxious about putting ANYTHING in my body that might have a chance of hurting our little one. I didn’t drink even a sip of alcohol, no fish, only hot deli meat…shocking that our parents had us happy and healthy, but yes, I was that anal.) After dinner, lots of pregnancy jokes about weight, gas, and Casey hopefully going into labor (when’s the next full moon?), we were home early. It was a great evening with friends that we had so much to share with. The next day was my shower, and I was huge and tired, so it was time for an early to bed. (By the way, if you are pregnant and ready to go into labor, go for the Mardi Gras roll at Kotta….it was a labor inducer for a friend a couple months later.)
Shortly after midnight, I woke up for a pee break, and had a surprise “show” (not going into details, but those of you who have had kiddos will know what I mean). For those of you that don’t know, Mike has had severe sleep issues since he was a child. He takes a pill every night and had just said that he wanted to start to cut it in half until the baby came just in case. That day hadn’t come yet and sure enough, he had just taken it for the night and laid down. When I woke up in a panic, he was dizzy and worried about having to drive, feeling the effects of the recently digested meds. Quick call to the doctor (not mine, his partner because mine was not on call for the weekend). He asked me standard questions – are you having contractions, has your water broken, etc. As far as I could tell, the answer was no to all of them. He encouraged me to relax, go back to bed and go to the hospital for a quick check if I felt necessary, but that it was probably nothing. Tried to go back to sleep, yeah right. Back up after a few minutes and the beginning of “Braxton Hicks” contractions. What is it the books say? Drink water, lay on your side, relax. I did all of those things, watched some tv, tried to “change the subject” running through my brain. No such luck. A few hours later, things were getting worse. The BH contractions weren’t going away like they were supposed to, still “showing”, etc. I woke Mike up and we went to the hospital with the clothes on our backs and my tiny purse with pretty much nothing in it but my insurance card…On the trip over (Baylor Frisco is luckily very close to our house – important as we went there A LOT), we thought that the worst it could be was bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. I was making a mental list of what he should bring me, what I needed to cover for work, and how much bigger could I possibly get being stuck in a bed for 4-7 weeks.
I walked into the hospital while Mike parked and came in right after me. I could hardly speak (anyone that’s seen me cry knows that the words that come out are more than a little hard to understand). Tears were streaming…Well, the next few events held some surprises and some not so surprises. First, the nurse confirmed Spence’s heartbeat and stress level – all thankfully okay. Check. Next, I was dialated to a 5…what, dialted, a 5? The “show” was official, my water had broken, but it hadn’t been like the movies, and I couldn’t confirm or deny when. During my exam, she did not feel a “nice soft round head”. Well, this was not a surprise. Spence had been in the same breech position, legs straight up in front of his face since we found out he was a he. We tried several times for a better view of the face, etc, but he did not budge. I knew he hadn’t turned and I told the nurse. We were now waiting for the doctor to confirm he was breech and that there was no turning back. When the doctor arrived 30 minutes later, I was dialated to between a 6 and 7, whoa, this was happening fast, and I was still in shock. I hadn’t felt pain, I didn’t have a gush of water, and IT WASN’T TIME YET!!! Spence had other plans and at 6:30 am on Saturday, October 11, 2008, the little peanut was born via C-Section at 33 weeks.
Mind you, I had a lot of worries during pregnancy, and I won’t go into them, but during all of it, I never once thought that I would have a premature baby and what the implications of that were.
Once Doc told Mike here he comes, get ready (all we had was a disposable camera the hospital gave us), I waited with breath held to hear our baby cry. IT SEEMED LIKE FOREVER!!! Finally, I heard him and took a breath again. Spence was 4 lbs, 7.5 oz and 17.5 inches long. I was able to hold him for about 30 seconds for a couple of quick pics before he was whisked away. Not quite the fairy tale labor experience, but I was in shock and so high on adrenaline, I didn’t know what came next. I went to recovery, texted my friends the “good” news, made sure the shower was cancelled appropriately and waited…and waited…and waited. On the way to my room, I got to pit stop in the NICU and see little Spence. No touching, just seeing. His breathing was not what they would like and shortly after I made it to my room, he was on a ventilator (for about 24 hrs).
The good and bad thing about my c-section was that I got to keep the epidural in for 24 hours. Good because I didn’t have pain, bad because I was so numb – what a crazy feeling…another blog for another day. I couldn’t go to the NICU until I could get out of bed, so we waited. As it turns out, there was football on that day – Texas / OU, Tech / MO, and a bunch of other great college games that I don’t remember. Truth is, I don’t remember the games I just mentioned I just know they were on. The neo-natologist came in at some point that day and explained to us what to expect from here. Probably 4 weeks or more in the NICU. He would likely be closer to his due date before he came home. There are several milestones NICU babies have to reach before they get to go home, and a year later, I don’t remember all of them, but here’s the biggies.
1. Breathing on own.
2. No need for any iv medication including caffeine for apnea.
3. No apnea or brady episodes for 5 days.
4. Must be able to finish 8 out of 8 bottles for the day. This is the trickiest. They don’t start “teaching” the babies to eat (suck/swallow/breathe) until at least 34 weeks. At that point, they start with one bottle / breast feeding per day gradually adding one feeding once they reach the previous milestone. You’d think this comes naturally, but it doesn’t, and it takes forever. You only get 30 minutes per feeding, so if they don’t finish, they get the rest from the tube, and it doesn’t count toward the accomplishment.
Again, me, still in shock, no idea what this all will really mean. Got my epidural out next morning and slowly got feeling back into legs. Now I was motivated…I needed to see my baby. Finally around 11 am I got to go down the hall and see him. I could touch him, but no holding, rubbing, patting, flash photo…all too stimulating. I stood by his bed with a hand not moving on his back. At this point he had an iv in his hand with saline to keep fresh so they didn’t have to stick him again, 2 iv’s in his umbilical cord stump before it dried out so he would feel fewer pokes, oxygen tubes replaced the ventilator, oxygen monitor, heart monitor, blood pressure monitor, feeding tube the next day followed by light treatment for jaundice. He was covered in tubes and cords, and I couldn’t hold him. I got to spend four nights at the hospital, for some that would be a nightmare, but for me it was like the Ritz. I had an extended stay suite (3 nights for c-section plus 1 since my baby was staying) and the nurses there were wonderful. On Sunday, two of my shower hostesses brought all of the food and cupcakes that were supposed to be for my shower and we had a little celebration. I loved being there knowing my baby was down the hall.
Wednesday came and I had to go home. Some of you may have experienced leaving your baby at the hospital, many not…I have had a very blessed life. I have lost people I have cared about, and have watched others experience the same. But overall, I had lots of love from my family, lots of friends, and many blessings. This was my first true struggle. Leaving your baby at the hospital is traumatic and horrible and devastating. While you know it’s for the best, and you’ll be back (to deliver milk) in a couple of hours, IT SUCKS!!! I spent as much time crying as I spent not crying.
I went to the hospital at least two times a day every day. I was pumping all night and getting the same amount of sleep as if he came home with us. Not to mention my ankles were swollen up like hot air balloons. I swear they were the biggest ankles I had ever seen. I was finally able to hold him, eventually change his diaper myself and feed him.
But, I cried every time I left the hospital for the next month. Two to three times a day every day, the valets or the security guards on the weekend saw me come and go with tears streaming down my face. I could never get used to leaving him there. We had lots of people want to visit, and after he was healthy enough, we were allowed to bring one visitor in the NICU at a time, but no big brothers. Over the next days and weeks, tubes came out, conditions improved, learning to feed began. The really sad thing is that you get used to seeing your baby with monitors and tubes and you don’t think about it. When he was down to a feeding tube and heart monitors, he looked perfect and healthy to me until I saw him through someone else’s eyes and remembered that it’s not supposed to be like that. I would do anything to get him home.
I remember one day when he was starting to become more alert, I held him for a couple of hours after feeding him a bottle. He just stared into my eyes for the longest time. It was so precious, but it made me even more aware of his situation. This sucked for me, but it was the best place for him. When you only see your newborn for a couple of hours at most at a time a couple of times a day, these moments are immobilizing.
More time passed and we were eventually told just a couple more days. We had seen other babies come and go, but apparently little white boys are the weaklings and take the longest to get out. Finally though, our day came and one day short of him being one month old on November 10th, we got to bring him home (6 lbs – woo hoo!).
Now, most of you still reading this likely have had babies, so you know there is so much more to this story once he came home. You think your world will end until you get your baby home and how will you go on without him here. And then your baby comes home for a couple of weeks, and you are no doubt smitten, and you are sleep deprived wondering…is it wrong that I could use a night of him back at the hospital??? You can deny it if you want…
So, I will end our story for now, but not without thanking so many who may have been forgotten during Spence’s first month at “summer camp”. How could I not thank God for bringing him to us, and allowing us to love this happy, healthy boy! My husband…Mike showed me patience like I have never seen before. I called after leaving every visit to update him several times a day in tears as I left our peanut again. He came with me as much as he could while still keeping our livelihood afloat and dealing with his own ongoing health issues. My mom – after little Spence was in the NICU for a week or so, she began going to the hospital every night for the 8:00pm feeding. Even when she was there with me earlier in the day, she went back so that I could rest and know that he was being held, read to, sung to and prayed with. Our friends and family – you brought us food, prayers and peace during a time we were not prepared for. You listened and supported. My OB for letting me drive the day after discharge (most make you wait 2-4 weeks after c-section) as long as I felt up to it, because I had a baby to see!!! Last, but certainly not least, the nurses and staff at Baylor Frisco – they cared for our bundle and got him healthy so he could be with us. They also cared for me, and they brought tissues (and chocolate on Halloween) when I lost it along with words of encouragement. Some of them even had personal experience as parents of patients in the NICU and we couldn’t have asked for a better hospital experience. The nurses and nurse practitioners we met will always hold a special place in my heart as they were Spence’s “parents” when we couldn’t be there.
I know how blessed we are to have the friends, family and joy that we have. So many people have tragedy where we were lucky to have triumph.
Again, I apologize for the length and now you know why it took me a year to write this. Wishing you all many blessings and much love.
Erika
