My Firstborn

Future golfer methinks?  He is so precious and has been such an awesome boy during this whole NICU baby my parents just drop me off at friends' homes for playdates everyday and what the heck is going on and why do I keep saying "hi and bye Bubba" every time we drive by the hospital and why does Mom always disappear to go "pump?"

He is learning so much, testing the waters, trying to be obedient yet crazy at times, eating so much better (thank goodness for that!) and just a bundle of joy during this busy time for us.  

Thank you Jordan, for being such an awesome big brother and first born.  You are setting the bar quite high for your siblings.  And you look so darn cute with your lil golf bag and real golf clubs!  Way to go Jordo! Don't worry, Bubba will be home soon and you can teach him all about Jake and the Neverland Pirates, golf, ball, and float boat.

And Then I Kicked a Box...

I kicked a box yesterday.  Really hard.  Not enough to hurt me, but enough to make a loud sound of fury.  I then grunted really loudly in anger.  I also moped around the house, upset that none of my pants were comfortably loose around my c-section scar area and all that is still swollen around, and everything that was adequate was out of the question since it smelled like sour milk.  And I was just so so tired.  I just wanted to sleep.  I fell into a deep sleep while Andy was reading The Hungry Caterpillar to Jordan before he was put to sleep.  I was OUT.  It was a rude awakening that I had to get up, get ready, and head back to the hospital.  Grrrrr.  Ugh.  The boxes around our house, the packed and flat ones, the laundry overflowing the baskets, and the folded laundry we still are too lazy to put away did not help.  But that's how I felt.  And you know what... kicking the box felt good.  Really really good.  

I'm about ready for Bubba to come home and tired of the positive attitude I've managed to have this whole time, with constant hospital trips, waking up butt early to get Jordan ready and drop him off for playdates, and worrying every time a 509 number calls me on my cell (as it could be the NICU).  I guess what goes up must come down eventually, and it sure came down yesterday.

I got to the hospital and it was dark in the parking lot.  I imagined some psycho capturing me and putting me into the trunk of a car or something worse.  I looked at the "no weapons beyond this point" sign on the door of the many doors I was entering, wondering what exactly the would do if a weapon did get in.  It's not as if there was a metal detector or anything else besides a sign that said "don't do it."  Pitiful.  I walked really fast.  Like a speedwalker.  I really hate walking down empty corridors with empty rooms and shut doors with white walls.  It scares me, makes me feel like I'm in an insane asylum where chaos could break loose at any given time.  But I kept walking, wondering if someone was following me and then walking faster, proud I had made it farther than the minute before when I was contemplating such thoughts.  I was still perturbed, by what exactly at that point, I knew not what.  I just was.  And I felt like every step I took was with more and more upset frustration.  I became upset at my overwhelming desire to just sleep without having to wake up and pump and then wash the pumping parts and label the milk because I knew it was all for good reason.  I was just negative, unwilling to see all the blessings that were abounding.  Like all the wonderful people who have brought us food, have helped watch Jordan, and have kept us in their thoughts and prayers.  Or the wonderful doctors and nurses that we know a little too well after three weeks there now.  We're not newbies anymore.  "Why hello Mrs. Phillips" or "hey there, how's it going tonight, he's doing well!" are greetings that often come my way as I enter the NICU.  I just was over it.  

And yet in all my blurry upset fatigue, everything was clear, everything was fresh, everything was so trivial and stupid the moment I was in the room with little Adam.  Taking his temperature.  Changing his diaper.  Switching his co band to the other foot.  Taking his little body into my arms and feeding him.  Just like that.. I had the clarity I seemed to be missing before.  And I just admired him as he fed, thinking how much he resembles Jordan but how he is his own personality already, with his own way of holding his hands up by his face, with his intent focus that reminds me of Jordan, yet is so different  since it took him so long to get to the point of breathing and eating.  It's really been a struggle for him to learn but he's getting there and that means... hopefully we will get to go home with him soon!

 Adam still with his feeding tube (now gone!)

 but in clothes now!

 a break from the hospital... a visit to Riverfront Park

 beautiful Spokane

 gorgeous isn't it?

Breath of Fresh Air

Apparently I can't stay away from blogging, it's just too therapeutic.

When I used to be an auditor with no life during busy season, I remember how odd it was to be home from work around 6 PM and not now what to do with myself until dinnertime.  Moreover, not know what exactly I'd be eating for dinner without the consult of my team and a newbie to go get it for me free of charge.  Life was so odd to me.  Time, this concept unknown to me, was at my fingertips, and yet I knew not what to do with it.  I remember turning on the foreign object known as a television only to discover the world of cable engulfing me.  And then I'd pause, text a co-worker about how odd it was to have such available time to do whatever I so pleased, and see she felt the same exact way.  What a transition to go from absolutely no time and a life dedicated to the well being of the audit opinion to a life of choice.

We've gone two days without May or Andy, just me, Jordan, and trips to drop him off for playdates and trips to the NICU.  I'm still running on adrenaline so I'm not tired despite waking up at 11 PM, 2 AM and 5 AM to pump and then starting my day off after 5 AM with a shower and getting everything ready to go.  The fact that Jordan can climb a little stool to hop into his own carseat has been a great finding on our part and a blessing as I can get out of the house with him and avoid carrying him.  Only once has he tried to escape the carseat when coming off of it and made a dash for the front seat where he likes to sit at the steering wheel.  Only once has he thrown a tantrum about now wanting to get into the carseat, so I'd say we're doing great!  And then we had a ripple in our schedule this morning when Jordan, who has been waking up at 6 AM and 6:30 AM, decided not to wake up in time for us to make his morning playdate while I go to the NICU at 8 AM.  He is OUT.  I changed his diaper, nudged his shoulder, took off his blanket, said "Jordan!  Jordan!  Jordan??!?!?!?" and nothing.  Not even a blink.  He is sound asleep, suppose the over abundance of playdates and outings has finally tired him out.  So I just called the NICU nurse and told her I wouldn't make the 8 AM care session, am hoping to make the 11 AM, but now my body can't retire to the bed.  I've just stopped to get a breath of fresh air and just like my audit days, I'm unsure what to do with my time.  Sleep?  Pump? Watch some TV?  Text some friends?  Read a book?  Blog?  Yes, I went with the last option.

But now, my eyes are tiring and I think I'll take a nap until Jordan wakes up.

Also, Adam is doing great as can be for a 36 week 5 day gestational aged premie.  He has graduated from the incubator boxes and is now in a crib, able to maintain his own body heat.  He still has a feeding tube but he only gets tube fed about 2-3 times over 8 feedings in a night.  He has a great latch both on boob and the bottle, but he tires out quick and just has to get over the hurdle of eating.  The nurses have begun discharge activities, including his shots and hearing test (passed!), and told us about the carseat test (he has to sit in a carseat for an hour while being monitored).  He's in clothes now (hospital borrowed ones) and is a lot more alert, darting his eyes everywhere to see what's going on when he's awake.  He is 5 pounds and 1.8 oz and hopefully will get bigger today.  I can't wait to take him home though I'm a little intimidated by the new routine we will have to set and how Jordan will react when he sees Mom holding the baby but not him.

A gift from my old co-worker at the Firm that Jordan is obsessed with because it has a plane, a boat, and a train on it!  He has been eating well using this plate thus far...

 black and white so you don't see the misfit of colors that is my son's blanket and outfit...

but here it is - just so you can see the crib he's in!

Taking a Break

I'm taking a break from blogging while life consumes me.  Jordan turned 2 yesterday and I may be back in the future once the dust of moving and having our baby exit the NICU has occurred to document it, but until then.. I won't be around here.  

In the meantime, it's only two more months before we make the move to Salt Lake City and currently, we are looking towards another week of NICU time before the doctors can give us a better sense of discharge plans for Adam.  He is doing very well for his gestational age per the doctors and nurses, eating better than expected, but is back under the lights as his bilirubin indicating jaundice just spiked again.  I make my way to the hospital four times out of his eight care sessions every 24 hours, pump every 3 hours, and try to sleep somewhere in between there.  

I want so badly to pick up my other son, Jordan, but I am not allowed to per doctor's orders and my own husband's.  For six weeks, I am not to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds, which includes my now 28 pound 2 year old sweetheart of a son.  This means no trips out of our apartment where we live on the third floor with only stairs available (even though he can walk them while holding your hand or the rail) because getting him into the car also consists of picking him up.  I know not every c-section patient obeys those orders, but given I went into pre-term labor while healthy (or so I thought...) and had my baby at 34 weeks and 4 days, I am going to listen closely and do whatever I can to fully recover and be able bodied by the time we are moving in the end of June.  

Currently though.... I am sick of being useless on a bed and useless with a weak stomach that is recovering and swollen everythings on my body.  I am tired of not being able to run and play with my son, or do simple tasks like pick up items that weight 11 pounds.  I am eager to recover and will do anything I need to fully recover and be available for my family come time.  

I am looking to the silver linings of our situation, knowing that his cord didn't prolapse, that he didn't have a traumatic delivery, that I was awake during the surgery, that he is alive and growing and doing well, that we have had so much help from Andy's mom (who has been with us since day two of hospitalized bedrest and just left today but will be back in two weeks again... thank goodness for all her love, willingness to help, and energy to kick it with Jordan 24/7) and an overwhelming outpouring of love and support from our family and friends.  I am looking to the fact that my drive to the hospital is only about 12 minutes door to door, that the nurses have all been so great and amazing, and that we have a plan in place for the two weeks I will be on my own whether Adam is still in the NICU or if he's discharged (which includes my mother financially helping us pay for help since she could not be here herself to help out).  I am happy that my Chinese mother sent me a huge package of frozen perishable Chinese healing foods which despite my disbelief in its tremendous milk producing prowess, tastes like home and comforts me (even though it has invaded our freezer space).  I am lucky to have a father-in-law who has been on his own for two weeks while his sweet wife takes care of us.  I am blessed to have family who offer constant support and encouragement throughout each change of plans and update.  I am smiling for my sweet son who does not seem to notice things have changed a bit around here and is pretty go lucky and easy and will still ditch Mom, Dad, and even Grandma for his best buddy, Finn.  I am amazed by my strong husband who has put up with my every request for this or that and has been there with me through serious fears and has been my rock.  I am grateful for my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus during this time as I have noticed how greatly a day not started with prayer is compared to a day that starts with one.  I am uplifted by guidance given by church leaders about faith during trials and an eternal perspective.  I am guided by my faith during this trying time and I know I could also do without it, but I'm glad I do not have to.  

And so with that, I am officially on blog leave (though Andy will be by from time to time to blog) for at least six weeks (same as my maternity leave from work).  

Bright Lights and...

...purple condoms.  That is what I think of when I think about my C-section and how odd it was to observe mostly everything from a lying down position on the operating table. No matter how much they tried to prepare me about what would happen... it was all pretty unexpected.  I've never really read about anyone's C-section experience or heard from friends in detail.. so here's my attempt at recapping the operation.

The room was cold, literally and figuratively.  There were tools everywhere and it didn't look very friendly or inviting.  I was actually shocked that it was indeed the operating room, somehow I imagined a much smaller space but this room was huge and equipment was here and there.  I was just in the middle of the spacious room, on my back, staring up at huge bright lights and purple rubbers over funny looking protruding handles.  I was so curious I asked one of the docs what those were for.  "To keep things sterile when we move 'em" she told me matter of factly.  Ohhhh, I see.  Glad they were purple at least.  So funny looking...!

First they wheeled me in, with my surgical blue bonnet on and my styling open back hospital gown.  The anesthesia team of two kept asking me questions about my husband and me in an attempt to calm me down.  It didn't work.  I stared around at the cold operating room, saw tools of all sorts, steel gray trays and equipment, and it felt stark and eery.  Like I was in some type of action movie where the operation is really a conspiracy and whatever they wanted to do to my body, they could!  I'd have to fight them off with skills I knew not how I acquired, but a distant memory would creep up and I'd have these amazing ninja fighting skills to thwart their deceptive motives.

Instead, the nurse held my head against her shoulder, I con caved my stomach to poke my back out towards the anesthesia assistant who poked and prodded my back, telling me in detail when it'd be cold, then a poke, then some burning while the anesthesia doctor kept talking and semi-asking me questions. The nurse reassured me to relax and lean against her as she held onto my shoulders to support me towards her weight.  She then told me to tell them if I felt anything from here on out as the anesthesia assistant kept working on the spinal.  A few moments I would yell out "poking on the right!" and then the nurse still holding me tightly would echo me louder, and then some adjustments would be made and I'd feel nothing from my back.  It was an odd sensation to be comforted by a stranger and poked by another, but what happened next was even more routine to them and abnormal to me that I just let it be and let the professionals do their job as I wondered when Andy would finally come into the room.  There were two nurses, two doctors, four anesthesia people (while they switched gigs or something, it eventually was just two and then just one), and lil ol' me on the operating bed.  They somehow maneuvered me into lying on my back and then I stared at the bright lights while everyone scurried around me to get things in place.  Some flaps came out and my arms were extended at 90 degrees from my legs, forming the perfect airplane.  On my right, they strapped on a blood pressure wrap, on my left middle finger, they put a little tab of a thing that was supposed to measure my heart rate, and on my nose, they put in a little tube that was supposed to help me with oxygen flow.  It felt like someone was constantly picking my nose while I lay there.

The nurse told me she was going to scrub my tummy to prep for the operation and the anesthesia doctor kept rubbing a piece of cold alcohol wipe, telling me this was normal (above where I'd be numb) and then would touch it against various parts of my body moving up from my ribs to down by my feet, asking me to say if it was normal or different.  We did that exercise about three times total and each time, there'd be gradually more "different" sections as the medicine started to work.

After the nurse cleaned my stomach, they put some sticky sheets over my stomach and then all I could feel was people touching my stomach without really feeling it.  It was the oddest sensation.  At one point, I tried to wiggle my toes, couldn't, and freaked out, then had to remind myself NOT TO WIGGLE YOUR TOES OR EVEN TRY because the attempt itself would continue to freak me out.  At times, they tilted me right, then left, really putting my airplane position into use, and would shout out about the time or something with numbers.

Then one nurse came close to my face, told me they had to talk about how they were going to do this (what?  didn't they already talk?!) and then I heard ramblings as I wondered if something was wrong.  I think they were just coordinating what they already knew but the fact that she said "we have to talk about how we're going to do this" really did scare me.

My doctor came over at one point, standing over me, and asked me if I was ready.  I'm not sure what I said, but I think I just stared at him in awe and fear and did not say much.  I knew they were waiting for the medicine to kick in before Andy was allowed in, but they pulled out the huge blue paper curtain, put it up in front of me so I couldn't see anything but a blue wall, and at that point, I was unashamed to ask the nearest person - the anesthesia guy, where my husband was.  Someone said I was ready, the doctor said he was doing a test and then asked me if I could feel it.  "No," I responded, "but I can feel something between my legs" because the catheter was seriously bugging me out.  "I highly doubt you can feel the catheter but not the pinching I just did with a really sharp tool to your stomach" he told me.  "Okay," I replied.  "So we're ready?"  I asked.  "Yes, all ready." he told me.  *gulp  Where is Andy?!

Everyone sort of looked the same with the men in surgical caps, same colored scrubs, mouth covers, and the women with the only difference being their surgical bonnets instead.  A man walked towards me, took off his mouth piece really quickly and leaned over to kiss me as he told me "I'm here now" or "you'll do great" or something like that - I was confused for a brief nanosecond before I realized it was Andy, my sweet dear husband, coming to be by my side and yes.. now we were ready for action.

Andy talked to me, the anesthesia guy was also in back of me near Andy, constantly asking me to let him know if I felt anything at any given point.  I kept asking if they got it, when the baby would come out, if he'd be crying, and if everything was okay.  Andy and the anesthesia guy would look over the blue curtain while I lay there.  I tried to pass what felt like forever by asking Andy questions, and he obliged by answering them to the best of his ability.  It must have been an hour later when I heard a baby crying, and they took him out, all I could see was the blue screen, and Andy and the anesthesia guy were both looking at the baby.  He kept screaming which made me feel good that he was alive and about, even at 34 weeks and 4 day only.

I heard the doctor tell his assistant doctor that the cord was below the legs which were crossed and I know he breathed a huge sigh of relief knowing this was indeed the best course of action given we could easily have been in the emergency c-section scenario with a prolapsed cord.  Then they told me it only took four minutes from point of first incision to baby out.  FOUR MINUTES?  It felt like an eternity!!!!  Wow.  The really long part was them sewing me back up because I was all alone for this part since Andy had gone up to the NICU with our newborn.  I stared at the purple condoms above me, the bright lights, the blue curtain, and every now and then tilted my head back to see the anesthesia guy who would ask me again if I felt okay.  It felt assured that he was continually monitoring me in case sensation in my body all of a sudden came back.  I realized that this was all very routine for the doctors as they chatted about their lives and I eavesdropped, as if we were all hanging out in the breakroom.  I wished so badly I could have gone up to the NICU with Andy and baby but felt good that Andy had gone with him.  Before they left, the nurse brought my newborn over to me as I lay there.  I gave his tiny swollen face a little kiss before they whisked him away to the NICU.

More pulling.  Tugging.  Talking amongst the medical professionals as I lay there... wondering how bad recovery would be.  Then, just like that - they were done.  They brought in another bed, had me roll to my left, then right, then left, and somehow got me from one bed to another.  As I lay in the new bed, my eyes drifted to the old bed, where I saw spots of blood on the bed and a big clear bin full of what looked like paper towels soaked in blood.  Ewww.  Blood scares me.  I was repulsed.  I felt grateful for the blue curtain and that I was not able to see any of it.  And then... they wheeled me out.

And just like that... I had a baby by doing absolutely nothing but cooperating and lying still while everyone did the rest.

And that is what it felt like to have a Cesarean, the operating part at least.  The recovery... now that is an entirely different and equally long and dull story for another day.  

We might not know, but He knows!

It has now been over 2 weeks since Daisy was admitted to the hospital for bedrest.  It all started with just a tiny bit of spotting.  From what Daisy described to me at the time, it truly was tiny, and almost too little to be concerned.  Thankfully she noticed it, and when she called the doctor, they were concerned enough to see her the next day, even though she had an appointment scheduled in a couple of days.  At the appointment the doctor checked her out, and initially came to the conclusion that she would still be able to make her flight to Utah, for our planned vacation which should have started tomorrow.  Thankfully, one more check showed that wouldn't be wise, as she was 2-3 cm dilated, with a bag poking through the cervix.

She was quickly wheeled over to antepartum, and put on tocolytics to stop the contractions.  Initially they weren't really doing much to stop her uterus, but over the first 24 hours, they started to work.  Over the next 12 days, our doc was internally debating the plan for Daisy and Bubba, and discussing the plan with his partners.  Do we let the baby continue to incubate, and mature, while at the same time risking breaking her water, having the cord and feet pop out requiring an emergency C-section?  Or do we take her back for a scheduled C-section?  Finally, given the fact that Bubba's feet were still dangling and kicking mommy's bladder, it would not be wise to wait any longer, given that the umbilical cord might be near the cervical opening.

Surgery would prove the worst case scenario to be true, and make the doctors' decision the right one - Bubba's feet were down, with the cord wrapped around his feet.  She was 4-5 cm, definitely big enough for his little feet to fall out of, which would have been disastrous.  Instead, he was taken out in a controlled environment, with all the right people there.

Adam came out looking like a champ, but would have his struggles breathing that first night.  Thankfully, I had a co-intern who had just became a new papa a few doors down from Daisy's room to accompany me to give little Adam a blessing.  It wouldn't be until an impromptu fast was started that little Bubba turned the corner.  I guess there are some kinds that don't go out except through fasting.  The cliche of no news is good news, was broken when in the middle of the night, the NICU nurse called to say he had turned the corner.  A miracle!  He hasn't looked back since, and although there is much work to do, he has shown his grit and determination to get it done.

Looking back on the whole experience, I am grateful for two little tender mercies, which in hindsight show that the Lord was aware of us, and the plight we were about to have.  The day before admission, my mom texted Daisy asking her if everything was ok, and that she was thinking of her.  When I talked to my mom later that day to explain that there was some bleeding and we were going to check it out, she said, I just thought I should check in with you guys.  The other little nugget showing us that God was aware was the next morning before the doc's appointment, when Daisy said that Jordan was extremely clingy, which he normally isn't.  Not only was he clingy, but he kept saying Ethan, over and over and over again (which was Adam's name, until it wasn't anymore!)  Lil Jordan knew his brother was coming.  Thankfully, there were people in our lives who took a second to stop and listen, and hear the voice of the Lord.  And although them knowing didn't change what happened, it did bring comfort as we faced the uncertainty of the whole process.

Missing Home

Well... after 12 days, I'm missing home so much.  I want my bed, I want my husband next to me, and I want my son to cuddle with me in the morning.  I am tired of sleeping in the hospital bed and even the beautiful flowers, kind visitors, and thoughtful presents don't cheer me up when I'm alone at night, about to go to sleep, and longing for home.  I just want to go home!  The only thing that seems to make me feel better is quietly crying to myself for a few minutes, wiping the tears away, telling myself to be strong, and getting ready for bed.

My mom calls me to ask me how I'm doing.  "Any improvements, time to go home yet?"  I don't think you understand Mom.  It won't really improve at this point, the best situation is status quo.  "Oh, so you're not going home soon?" she asks me.  No, unfortunately not.  If I do, it's because the baby's come and we don't want that quite yet.

Today, I am 34 weeks and 2 days.  It's hard to look out further than a few days, but I suppose the next goal is to make it to 35 weeks which is five more nights.

The days are easy.  The nights are also easy if I go to sleep.  If I allow myself to stay awake, hearing the heart monitors of those next door, imagining myself at home, then I get depressed.

I know it's better for me to be alone at the hospital than for our baby to be alone in the NICU.  But it's also scary.  If I might go into labor in the middle of the night.  If I might wake up with my water broken.  If we'll have to have a c-section sometime between now and when I wake up next.  So sometimes, I am afraid to go bed and end up lost in my own thoughts.

I also know that at this point, our hospital bill will already be insane and that we'll probably max out on our deductible and our out of pocket.  But that doesn't make me feel any better when I think about our rent, mortgage, normal fixed expenses, and all the added costs of getting our home ready (grown up problems).  I know we are going to be okay because of careful spending and a lot of savings over the years, but I hate seeing that number decrease in size.  My old financial advisor once told me it was safe to have three months worth of expenses saved up in your checking account and even more in your savings for rainy day situations like me stuck in the hospital for 12+ days.  I'm sure glad I heeded her advice, but still sore about having to pay those dang hospital bills, contractor invoices, car payments and student loan payments (those are the absolute worst!).

But then I have to be grateful for all the blessings also.  For May being here to help us out and for Jordan adjusting so easily (he's happy as a clam and only asks for me on the ride home).  For the job I can still do from hospital bedrest and am still getting paid for.  For Andy working at the same hospital I'm stuck in so I actually get to see him twice, sometimes three times a day.

I guess it often feels easier to complain than to look to the brighter things, but I won't throw myself a pity party just yet because there is a lot to celebrate as well.

Nevertheless, I do miss home.  Home sweet home.

And it will all be worth it when we have sweeet baby in our arms (hopefully instead of the NICU) and can go home to sleepless nights and infinity exhaustion.