Day Seventeen

It still hurts, I still cry, and I still ache for my family.

Josh is continuing to do well. As you can see from the pictures, the canula (sp) is back. His oxygen saturation has been a little low, and he needs the extra help breathing. The other tube going into his nose is a gavage tube, which is how they feed him. Breastmilk is delivered directly to his tummy, and can be temporarily withdrawn to check on his digestion. He is still on monitors for heartrate and respiration, and you can see the little leads stuck to his chest. These keep track of 'fun' things, like the spell he had earlier tonight where his heartrate dropped very low for too long. He's still getting daily physical therapy for his right foot, which is stuck curled in toward his body because he was smashed in me without amniotic fluid. The staff in the NICU is confident that it'll be alright because they're able to straighten it out without too much resistance and without making him cry. If it was stiff and painful, then it would be considered a contracture (I think that's what they said), and it would be a much bigger deal. I wish I'd had a source for comparison so that you could see just how tiny he really is, but the best I can do is point out the size of my hand in relation to his body. His head is still the size of my fist.

In the second picture, we're doing "Kangaroo Care". In medical testing, brainwaves were monitored during this special contact, and it was proven that babies benefit greatly from skin to skin contact with their mothers. The warmth, heartbeat, breathing patterns, smell, and other factors are similar to being in the uterus and trigger significant brain activity. It's supposed to stimulate all kinds of development. It's kind of a general rule of thumb in the NICU that every day in the uterus is the equivalent of two days outside the mother for premature babies. If a baby is born six weeks early, he won't be as physically mature as he would have been at term until he's twelve weeks old. This little guy was twelve weeks early, which sets him back significantly. Now, just because a baby is half as strong as a full term baby at that age doesn't mean that he has to stay in the NICU for twice the time he was supposed to remain in the uterus. Heidi was five weeks early and lived in the NICU for two weeks. Eric was eight weeks early and stayed in the NICU for four weeks. It really depends on the strength of the baby. Overall, girls come home faster than boys, and earlier babies stay relatively longer than babies born closer to term. For example, Eric only had to stay in the NICU for half the time he was supposed to still be in the uterus, while Josh could have to stay for more than 75% of the time he had left in the uterus. Eric was close enough to term that he wasn't suffering from anything but lack of maturity. Josh has had to overcome pulmonary hypertension, some weird problem with coagulation in his blood, lungs that are too small for his body, some brief liver problems, and the issue with his foot in addition to his lack of maturity.

Anyway, I had sort of a meltdown today at Josh's bedside. I was thinking about how much he looks like Eric, and thought of how cute all the kids' costumes sounded when Ron told me about them. An idea started developing, that maybe I could use a buddy pass and fly out to Tennessee for a few days to be with the kids. For a few moments, I was really excited and could practically feel how wonderful it would be to hold them again. Then reality came crashing down on me when I looked at Josh-- if I went back to Tennessee and had the chance to be with my other kids, I wouldn't be able to come back here again. It would just kill me inside. Hugging Ron goodbye and then watching his truck get smaller and smaller as we drove away was already murder, and having to go through that again when I'm already this beaten down would be too much.

It's amazing how much sadness can hurt. There's this intense weight on me, and a crushing in my chest that makes it hard to breathe. Crying brings on pounding headaches and this drained feeling, like I've just had the life sucked out of me. I'll bet this would be easier if I didn't have all these stupid hormones leftover from pregnancy. It was suggested that this might be postpartum depression, which it might be, but the situation is hard enough that it's difficult to imagine it being any easier without postpartum depression involved.

Well, I probably shouldn't keep going on about this or you guys are going to stop reading the blog. Take care, and keep Josh in your prayers.