Disclaimer: Long, windy, lengthy and probably boring. Only because I don't want to forget how it went down. Not that I know if I could forget even if I wanted to...
After visiting Cam in the ICN for a few minutes, I was wheeled back to my labor & delivery room. Due to the amount of Magnesium Sulfate that I was receiving to control my blood pressure, I would be fortunate enough to have a greater level of care for another 24 hours. I really liked the L&D nurses, so I couldn't complain. However, has anyone else ever had that magnesium crap? While I was in labor I never really noticed the effects. Mind you, once I got that baby outta me, the stuff jacked me up. Bad. Every time that I moved a limb, it felt as though it took said limb approximately 3 extra seconds to actually move. Combined with my spinal from the c-section, I couldn't stand and chewing felt like an olympic sport. Which sucked after 36 hours of not being allowed to eat. The stuff is nasty. Bad. No more. Ever. Thank you. I digress...
I convinced my Mom to go back to our house and rest for the night with my dad and Jackson. Luke stayed at the hospital with me and slept on the tiny little couch they reserve for weary family members. Although both of us were exhausted, we kept chatting about how amazed we were with our little bear...and I kept itching. Like, really, really itching. As the medication from the spinal wore off it started in my nose. Which I kept running my finger under like some kind of crack addict. Then my legs began to itch. And my face. Any my arms. And for the first time, I utilized my call button to ask for Benadryl, lotion and anything else I thought would stop the itching. Note to lady friends: itching is a serious side effect of a c-section. And annoying beyond belief.
When morning finally rolled around and the itching had mostly subsided, I was excited at the prospect of seeing Cam again. Unfortunately, I was still bed ridden and would only be able to go when the doctor gave me permission to move about the hospital. So, I waited and Luke went to visit him first thing in the morning. After a few minutes, he returned to let me know that LB was just fine, although still having a little trouble breathing. Still, I just wanted to see him. And I thought, perhaps, hold him.
That thought, however, was dashed when the neonatologist on call came to chat with us. Dr. Johnson was a lovely woman from San Jose who covered at the hospital a couple weekends each month. She had been caring for LB since he was born and cared enough to come find us and have a 30 minute talk about how things would go down now that Cam was in the ICN. I listened, as intently as I could through my exhaustion as she told me that we should plan on a minimum of a two week ICN stay, and that he was suffering from premature lung disease, also called "respiratory distress syndrome."
Which is when I really started to listen.
Dr. Johnson explained that due to the immaturity of Cam's lungs that he was not producing enough surfactant, a substance that helps lubricate the lungs. In essence, he was having trouble breathing due to his lungs sticking to themselves as he drew breaths in. It seemed as though he would overcome this trouble with just steroids. However, if he had any more trouble, he would need to be intubated and placed on a ventilator for a breathing treatment. And that potentially meant that he would need to be transferred to a different hospital. And that freaked Mama out.
So I asked, "When do you think we'll be able to hold him?" I didn't like her response, but I had to accept it. At least not for a few days. Right now, even touch was too much stimulation for him. Each time someone reached through a port hole of his isolette, his blood oxygen saturation dropped dramatically. Breathing requires a preemies full attention. And until he got that down, I would have to wait.
All of it was a lot to take in. Babies aren't supposed to have tubes shoved down their throats. Babies aren't supposed to have to endure that kind of pain. Babies are supposed to be cuddled and kissed.
I had read books. And watched shows. I knew how this went. Or was supposed to go, at least. Baby is born. Baby is placed on Mom's chest. Baby snuggles. Baby learns to breastfeed. Baby goes to nursery to get weighed and comes back to be cuddled some more. And then Baby goes home with Mom. I knew now, however, that our experience wasn't going to go like that.
So, I put on my big girl panties (which were, conveniently, some very attractive, giant, elastic mesh undies provided by the hospital) and waited for my nurse to bring me a wheelchair so that I could get wheeled into the nursery without a big glass viewing window and see my baby again.
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