August 30, 2005

August 30, 2005

NICU nurses are some of the most astounding people I will ever meet on
God’s green earth.  Maybe it’s because I grew up around
conservative left-wing fanatical’s, who generally  have a vaguely
suspicious attitude toward the rest of the world. Whatever the case, I
leave the NICU every night pretty much astonished with how nice people
can be.   It’s like Barbie meets Ronald Reagan, with a healthy
dose of Andy Griffith, but as comforting as your favorite
Grandmother.   I sheepishly admit I can get along with
anybody, but underneath it all I can be harshly critical. 
However, even the worst nurses are nicer and more competent
than…well  me ( not that I’m either of
those)..  Still, I find it somewhat frustrating, that just when I
get used to having one nurse, twelve hours later I get a new
one.   With one hundred and seventy five nurses, rotating
between sixty babies,  it’s rather improbable you’ll get the same
nurse for more than a couple times (if you’re lucky).   On the
bright side,  every single nurse has their own opinions about a
variety of things (burping, nursing, bottle feeding) it’s like a crash
course in parenting every twelve hours, so I’m not complaining.
By the time we take Jamie home, we should be experts (ha, ha)
A few the more memorable ones.
Rachel:   Cutest, most beautiful nurse you’ll ever meet.
Except for the missing white dress and hat, she was the stereotypical
nurse you’d picture in a Norman Rockwell painting.  Helpful, funny
and humble, I sincerely hope she wins some sort of medal.
Dahli:  Probably my least favorite nurse, but definitely one of
the wisest.   She was an ancient little Chinese lady, with
more tricks up her sleeve than….(I’m not sure what).   The
other nurses joked about how she’d been in the NICU for thousands of
years.  She rules the place in her own sort of way.  Even the
Dr.’s run terrified from her.   I don’t know if she didn’t
speak much English,  or if she just enjoyed repeating,  “You
no do right….you amateur mother”. all the time.   After
about two hours of nearly putting me in tears,  I discovered her
bite really wasn’t as bad as her bark. 
Paula:  Stands above the crowd for having no
personality.   Sometimes I had the evil desire to pinch her
and see if she was real, or just a realistic looking
droid.    I still have a sneaking suspicion she’s not
quite human, some how she was vaguely like Data from
StarTrek.   She did absolutely everything perfectly,
she was perfectly nice, perfectly competent, so I don’t have anything
to complain about,  it was just a little eerie.
Mark:   I never would have guessed that the gay, male nurse
from New Zealand would be more helpful than the lactation specialist
when it came to breastfeeding.    Oh well for
stereotypes.    He’s also the most intelligent nurse
I’ve had
yet, and if not the most intelligent, he was definitely the most
interesting conversationalist.   While most nurses discreetly
stand in the background keeping an attentive eye on your baby and
monitor,  Mark pulls up a chair and carries on a lively
conversation about any number of cool and fascinating
things.   It was a nice change.
Well I’m off to the NICU again.  I apologize for the lack of
diversity in blog entries.  When my life ceases to consist
entirely of eating, sleeping, or living in the NICU,  I’m sure
I’ll include fascinating things like, what diaper brand I like best, or
whether or not Carter’s or OshKosh makes the best baby
clothes.  
Until then…

August 19, 2005

August 19, 2005

was going to write a “real” entry but find I’m a little more exhausted
than I previously thought.  So many apologies, but I’m just going
to copy the update I just wrote.>
Jamie’s doing well all things considering. I’ve learned that there is
no such thing as normal in the NICU. It’s a progression of events…two
steps forward and one step back. Last weekend he was transferred to a
level 3 NICU due to GI tract “issues”. He couldn’t keep anything down,
gain any weight, or poop. Anyway, that was resolved (after a few
terrifying days) and the latest “crisis” is his blood sugar. Apparently
it’s normal for IUGR babies (Intrauterine Growth Restriction) to have
problems with their blood sugar dropping dangerously low, but it
normally resolves itself in a few days. Jamie’s however was
continuously dropping, resulting in a constant glucose IV. They sent
out blood tests to the lab to see if he has a hormone problem of some
kind. The results haven’t come back yet, but when the neo-natalogist
found out high metabolism’s run in the family, he felt that was most
likely the cause, so they upped his calorie intake by fortifying my
breast milk, and have slowly weaned him of the IV. yay!
To come home Jamie needs to be able to do four things consistently.
One, he has to breathe on his own (which he does well, he’s never had
any problems with his lungs). Two, maintain his body temperature
without the help of an isolette (they just moved him to an open crib
today, so we’ll see how he does with that). Three, he has to
consistently gain weight (which he is doing…finally) Four, he has to
get rid of his feeding tube, and be able to either nurse, or take a
bottle. (this is proving to be rather difficult, but we’re working on
it). He also has to avoid any more “episodes” as his nurse calls them.
That includes his blood sugar remaining stable, and any other
unexpected “issues” that may surprise us. All in all we’re quite
grateful he’s doing so well. Jim and I were holding him the other night
and marveling at how tiny he is, and his nurse
reprimanded us, telling us to look around the NICU and see that Jamie
is not “tiny”
he’s just “petite”. He’s surrounded by babies who are only barely a
pound and can’t breathe on their own, while he’s a whopping three
pounds and his lungs are perfectly fine.
Jim and I are doing fine. I don’t know where I got this head cold, but
it sure came at the worst time. You can pray I get better soon, as I’m
not sure how much longer I can stand not seeing Jamie. His daddy’s with
him now, and Jim promised me he’d say hello, so I guess I’ll have to
console myself with that.
Hope this didn’t bore you all…

August 19, 2005

August 19, 2005

August 11, 2005

August 11, 2005

I finally got Elizabeth’s laptop to connect to the wireless from my new room.  I contemplated sneaking back into my old room just to borrow the Internet, but I doubted how understanding the new occupants would be.

Jamie is here,  he arrived at 8:43 PDT.  He weighed 3 lbs. .4 oz (why the .4 is important I don’t know).   He was whisked directly to the NICU, which was fine with me.  He’s healthy and that was the truly important news. 

I have lots of questions, ramblings, and descriptions (which I’m sure most people will find disgusting), but I’ll save those for a later date.  Between the drugs and faulty wireless connection I’m completely incoherent.  I’ve had to stop writing this small update several times just cause I can’t for the life of me remember what I was going to say next, then before you can respond with the obvious, “How is that different from normal?” … I’m sound asleep.

Off to take more drugs…

An Update

Jamie's doing well all things considering. I've learned that there is
no such thing as normal in the NICU. It's a progression of events...two
steps forward and one step back. Last weekend he was transferred to a
level 3 NICU due to GI tract "issues". He couldn't keep anything down,
gain any weight, or poop. Anyway, that was resolved (after a few
terrifying days) and the latest "crisis" is his blood sugar. Apparently
it's normal for IUGR babies (Intrauterine Growth Restriction) to have
problems with their blood sugar dropping dangerously low, but it
normally resolves itself in a few days. Jamie's however was
continuously dropping, resulting in a constant glucose IV. They sent
out blood tests to the lab to see if he has a hormone problem of some
kind. The results haven't come back yet, but when the neo-natalogist
found out high metabolism's run in the family, he felt that was most
likely the cause, so they upped his calorie intake by fortifying my
breast milk, and have slowly weaned him of the IV. yay!
To come home Jamie needs to be able to do four things consistently.
One, he has to breathe on his own (which he does well, he's never had
any problems with his lungs). Two, maintain his body temperature
without the help of an isolette (they just moved him to an open crib
today, so we'll see how he does with that). Three, he has to
consistently gain weight (which he is doing...finally) Four, he has to
get rid of his feeding tube, and be able to either nurse, or take a
bottle. (this is proving to be rather difficult, but we're working on
it). He also has to avoid any more "episodes" as his nurse calls them.
That includes his blood sugar remaining stable, and any other
unexpected "issues" that may surprise us. All in all we're quite
grateful he's doing so well. Jim and I were holding him the other night
and marveling at how tiny he is, and his nurse
reprimanded us, telling us to look around the NICU and see that Jamie
is not "tiny"
he's just "petite". He's surrounded by babies who are only barely a
pound and can't breathe on their own, while he's a whopping three
pounds and his lungs are perfectly fine.
Jim and I are doing fine. I don't know where I got this head cold, but
it sure came at the worst time. You can pray I get better soon, as I'm
not sure how much longer I can stand not seeing Jamie. His daddy's with
him now, and Jim promised me he'd say hello, so I guess I'll have to
console myself with that.
Hope this didn't bore you all...

A baby!

I finally got Elizabeth's laptop to connect to the wireless from my new room.  I contemplated sneaking back into my old room just to borrow the Internet, but I doubted how understanding the new occupants would be.

Jamie is here,  he arrived at 8:43 PDT.  He weighed 3 lbs. .4 oz (why the .4 is important I don't know).   He was whisked directly to the NICU, which was fine with me.  He's healthy and that was the truly important news. 

I have lots of questions, ramblings, and descriptions (which I'm sure most people will find disgusting), but I'll save those for a later date.  Between the drugs and faulty wireless connection I'm completely incoherent.  I've had to stop writing this small update several times just cause I can't for the life of me remember what I was going to say next, then before you can respond with the obvious, "How is that different from normal?" ... I'm sound asleep.

Off to take more drugs...

Finally a plan

It's frustrating when the best OB's and Perinatalogist's also happen to
be the busiest.  Why can't they just sit around and answer my
questions, while waiting on me hand and foot.  After all, I am
paying around $40,000 for their services.
So...after much deliberation, confusion, and irritation (at least on my
part) The official news (likely to change at any given moment) is
c-section at 8:00 pm.
Until then....

Unexpected Waiting

Monday, (yesterday) was my first Perinatologist appointment,
and his diagnosis was not what I expected. 
Jamie is not only small, he’s abnormally small, and they can’t figure
out why.   Take that back, they know
it’s caused from a placental failure, but they can’t figure out why his
placenta failed or when exactly it started shutting down.   Whatever the case, they certainly had my
full attention when they started talking about “lack of oxygen” and
“stillborn”.  The specialist gave us two
options, come in for monitoring three times a week, or have a c-section and
deliver him now.   Obviously, the longer
he can stay in me the better, (considering he wasn’t supposed to make his debut
till September) however since his placenta seems to be deteriorating so rapidly
they can’t monitor him often enough to make sure he’s actually getting oxygen
(apparently even fetus’s need oxygen to survive).   Bottom line:  Jim and I
decided to go with the c-section.  

First stop: Amniocentesis to determine whether or not his
lungs were mature.   After everybody
thoroughly freaked me out with horror stories of how awful and painful it is to
have an eight-inch needle stuck in your belly,
I didn’t think it was bad at all.
It hurt less than an I.V. and took about 15 seconds.  It felt exactly like swallowing a long
spaghetti noodle and then pulling it out (or was I the only one who did that as
a kid?)

After that I was admitted into labor and delivery where my
“no-pain” trend was broken by two blown veins and a myriad of holes in my arms
(the result of unsuccessful I.V. attempts).
All pain however was quickly outranked by my impatience.   The results of the Amnio were supposed to
take an hour or two, which slowly turned into three to four hours, which
painfully turned into five almost six hours.
I was convinced the lab building had burned down, or some geeky lab tech
had spilled his Dr. Pepper on my results… The wait was driving me insane.  I would have paced the floor or climbed
walls, but I was chained to my bed via fetal monitors and I.V’s…bleh.   The results finally came back at nine p.m.
last night.   I should have been proud
of my non-comformist son, but instead I was excessively annoyed.    The results were supposed to be “yes” or
“no” but we got “transition” instead.
Jamie’s lungs are operating somewhere in no-mans-land; not immature enough
to give him steroids, and not mature enough to be considered full-term.  The perinatologist had to be consulted
again.  However he was celebrating his
daughter’s birthday and didn’t have his pager on. (stupid doctors, don’t they
know they’re not allowed to have a life?) . 

 So here I am at Grossmont Hospital Labor and Deliver, it’s eight a.m. and nobody will give me
breakfast.   I’m supposed to have a
c-section sometime today, unless Dr Schrimmer (the perinatologist) decides to
wait for another day.  Whatever the
case, I’m stuck here for the duration.
They’re not letting me go home until I have a baby.

 

August 9, 2005 part three

August 9, 2005

It’s frustrating when the best OB’s and Perinatalogist’s also happen to
be the busiest.  Why can’t they just sit around and answer my
questions, while waiting on me hand and foot.  After all, I am
paying around $40,000 for their services.
So…after much deliberation, confusion, and irritation (at least on my
part) The official news (likely to change at any given moment) is
c-section at 8:00 pm.
Until then….

August 9, 2005 part two

August 9, 2005

• Monday, (yesterday) was my first Perinatologist appointment,
  and his diagnosis was not what I expected.  
  Jamie is not only small, he’s abnormally small, and they can’t figure
  out why.   Take that back, they know
  it’s caused from a placental failure, but they can’t figure out why his
  placenta failed or when exactly it started shutting down.   Whatever the case, they certainly had my
  full attention when they started talking about “lack of oxygen” and
  “stillborn”.  The specialist gave us two
  options, come in for monitoring three times a week, or have a c-section and
  deliver him now.   Obviously, the longer
  he can stay in me the better, (considering he wasn’t supposed to make his debut
  till September) however since his placenta seems to be deteriorating so rapidly
  they can’t monitor him often enough to make sure he’s actually getting oxygen
  (apparently even fetus’s need oxygen to survive).   Bottom line:  Jim and I
  decided to go with the c-section.  

  First stop: Amniocentesis to determine whether or not his
  lungs were mature.   After everybody
  thoroughly freaked me out with horror stories of how awful and painful it is to
  have an eight-inch needle stuck in your belly,
  I didn’t think it was bad at all.
  It hurt less than an I.V. and took about 15 seconds.  It felt exactly like swallowing a long
  spaghetti noodle and then pulling it out (or was I the only one who did that as
  a kid?)

  After that I was admitted into labor and delivery where my
  “no-pain” trend was broken by two blown veins and a myriad of holes in my arms
  (the result of unsuccessful I.V. attempts). 
  All pain however was quickly outranked by my impatience.   The results of the Amnio were supposed to
  take an hour or two, which slowly turned into three to four hours, which
  painfully turned into five almost six hours. 
  I was convinced the lab building had burned down, or some geeky lab tech
  had spilled his Dr. Pepper on my results… The wait was driving me insane.  I would have paced the floor or climbed
  walls, but I was chained to my bed via fetal monitors and I.V’s…bleh.   The results finally came back at nine p.m.
  last night.   I should have been proud
  of my non-comformist son, but instead I was excessively annoyed.    The results were supposed to be “yes” or
  “no” but we got “transition” instead.
  Jamie’s lungs are operating somewhere in no-mans-land; not immature enough
  to give him steroids, and not mature enough to be considered full-term.  The perinatologist had to be consulted
  again.  However he was celebrating his
  daughter’s birthday and didn’t have his pager on. (stupid doctors, don’t they
  know they’re not allowed to have a life?) .  
  

   So here I am at Grossmont Hospital Labor and Deliver, it’s eight a.m. and nobody will give me
  breakfast.   I’m supposed to have a
  c-section sometime today, unless Dr Schrimmer (the perinatologist) decides to
  wait for another day.  Whatever the
  case, I’m stuck here for the duration.
  They’re not letting me go home until I have a baby.

  
  

August 9, 2005

August 9, 2005

So, I really do have a wonderful excuse for the long space
between this and the last entry. There is too much to write, so I’ll limit
myself to strict updates, without launching in to the long diatribes about
nothing that I so dearly love to write (or talk, if you’re unfortunate enough
to get stuck on the phone with me)

The main points…

Jim and I went to New Mexico to pick up windows for our
house.  We stayed with Ben and Kirsten
for five days and laid new tile in their entry.  They have no internet, and I was unsuccessful in any attempt to
break into somebody else’s wireless network.
Despite the internet withdrawals, we had a lot of fun. 

My sister Elizabeth decided to launch herself 50 ft off a
motorcycle without a helmet on. 
Although she looked like she lost a fight with a grizzly bear, her worst
injury is a sprained ankle; she also has cool Darth Maul eyes that completely
freak me out every time she glances my way.

My Great Grandmother died (better known to me as Grandmie)
at the ripe old age of 100.  She’d lost
touch with reality (which included recognizing me or anyone else) about nine
months ago, and had been going downhill ever since.  So it was expected, but it still felt like a kick in the solar
plexus.  In my more selfish moments, I
mourn the implications of not going to her house for roast beef, and homemade
applesauce.

Friday I had an ultrasound to check on Jamie and make sure
he was growing ok.   Apparently it’s not
normal to be eight months pregnant, still wearing your normal jeans and not
weighing an ounce more than you did a year ago.   Ultrasound saw hair (I was completely bald so Jamie definitely
gets that from his dad) and a big nose.
At least I thought it looked huge, the technician said it was just the
angle, but she probably says that to every hysterical mother freaking out over
whether Junior looks more like a monkey than a human (note to mothers: newborns
do look like monkeys).    After
the ultrasound showed an unusually small baby, we were whisked around
unceremoniously to a radiologist and then my OB, who promptly referred me to a
Perinatologist (I’m told “Perinatologist” comes from the Latin word pera
which means “danger” or “risk”, but don’t quote me on it)

Jim and I went to the airport to pick up some old guy (me,
being a complete basket case at this point in time).  The “old man” turned out to be my adorable sister-in-law
Lauren,  I was completely surprised and
promptly fell apart again.  She was
supposed to stay until Tuesday morning, but we got her ticket switched to Sat
instead.  We’ve had a ton of fun.

This week starts a whole new chapter, so I’ll start a
new entry.