How Michelle Got Her Groove Back

Habit is a beneficent harness of routine which enables silly men to live respectfully and unhappy men to live calmly.
George Eliot

I am finding it rather difficult to get myself back into my daily groove. Or any groove, for that matter. Obviously.. my life has just come to a screeching halt on many levels: I am not going to school anymore (although we talked to my professors and they both seem willing to help me finish from home so *fingers crossed* I may still be able to graduate in December!), I am not working anymore, (boo! I miss my kids SO much) and I am under pretty strict orders to take it easy. So, getting back into what my life used to be is pretty much out of the question. It is just about the strangest thing ever to go from as busy as I was to... this. However, there are still things I could be doing.. and I think about doing them... and I think about doing them some more... and then... I don't... and then I watch 12 episodes of House online.

10 Things I could be doing:
1. Laundry- loads and loads and loads of laundry. We have lots of laundry and I could do it.
2. Putting the new handles on the cabinets.
3. Straightening up the house... which just seems to be getting filthier and filthier. Le sigh.
4. Whip out my sewing machine and learn to use the dang thing.
5. Finally teach myself to knit which I have been wanting to do For. Ev. Er.
6. Start sorting through the disaster area that will need to become Liam's nursery.
7. Start writing my senior seminar paper.
8. My wedding scrapbook!
9. Continue in my decorating endeavors.
10. I don't know... actually make it out of bed before 1 o'clock in the afternoon?!

Well, okay.. today, I will be making it out of bed before 1 p.m. because today I have a doctor's appointment at 1:15 p.m.- lucky me. I will then be driving myself over to the hospital for the very first time to see my baby. As of last night, he was much more stable since being put back on the ventilator. I did not go in to see him because I had a bit of a tickle in my throat. That was hard. I am fairly positive now that it is just the weather changing screwing with my allergies because my eyes have gotten ridiculously red and itchy and after 3 days the tickle has remained but has not progressed to anything more.. and because the weather changing (and leaves dying) always screws with my allergies. So I am going to go see him today but, just in case, I will sport the very fashionable face mask.

I have not heard anything yet about his condition this morning but I am hoping they started him on the more specific antibiotic that will kick this infection's ass so he can get back to the very important task of getting big enough and strong enough to come home.

But anyway... My personal theory about my lack of motivation is this: I cannot do the 3 things I want to do more than anything else for at least 6 weeks and so... it is hard to get motivated to do anything at all. What are those three things, you ask?

Well... since you asked:
1. Sex. [With my husband]
2. Exercise. [With my new Wii and Wii Fit Plus!!]
3. Mommy. [With my little button, Liam]

And so.. I lay around and woe is me. I mean seriously, I have begged [BEGGED] my husband.. and he was so close, SO CLOSE... and would have given in if it wasn't for the gosh-darn internet. [I hate you, Al Gore!] And I want my body back- it really puts it all in perspective when you realize that only 2.2 pounds of all that baby weight was actual baby. But horror stories of ripped open scars and internal bleeding have kept me pretty immobile.. and the Wii that Ryan got for me as a Welcome Home present is sitting there... mocking me...

And, of course, more than anything in the whole wide world I was Liam to come home. Actually.. at this point... I would even settle for just kissing his face and cuddling him. Even if it is in the NICU. I just want to hold him and love him. That is pretty much the hardest part.

So.. my goal for today is to somehow, someway... find some shred of normal somewhere in this mess we call life. To make a schedule. To get myself together. To STOP POUTING and start grooving. Life will never go back to the way it was.. so I need to start putting together the pieces of the way it is... because it can still be good in it's new and unusual way.

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grati-tuesday

Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others.

Cicero

Man.. even I did not know I was capable of such cheese as is located in the title of today's post.. but, alas, I am. And I will not apologize.


Today, my little bit turns 2 weeks old. And I have decided that every Tuesday is now cause for celebration. Every week that we put behind us is a step in the right direction. No matter what obstacles we face, we are still moving forward. So, on Tuesdays... I am going to take a moment to remember the things that I am grateful for.

And, of course, I will start off this new tradition with Liam Eliot. I am so grateful for every morning that I wake up and he is still with us. I am grateful that he has the spirit of an overcomer and is fighting so hard. We have learned that his little body is having to work against an infection now. He has been put back on a ventilator and has had to have a lumbar puncture, a blood transfusion, and countless tests, labs and x-rays as they work to figure out exactly what sort of infection has made its way into his system and how best to treat it. It is hard to fight against the panic that rises up at hearing these things... but I think I am getting better. I am learning to find my peace.

Liam has not given up. His heart is still beating. His brain is still ticking. And he is still growing [He now weighs 2 pounds and 7.3 ounces; practically a sumo wrestler!] The nurses tell us he is fiesty.. that he is a wild child... and I am so grateful for that strong will in him. I know that there will be days when it will make me want to pull my hair out.. but I also know, from my own experience [Yes, I admit it: I am ridiculously hard-headed] that it will serve him well in life.

So today, I am grateful for my son. I am grateful that I have been given the opportunity to know him. I am grateful for every day that I get to spend as his mama. I am grateful for his perfect fingers and toes and belly button. I am grateful for his precious, adorable little button nose. I am grateful that the last two weeks are behind us and I am grateful for the many, many weeks ahead to watch him grow.

What are you grateful for today?

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I Need You So Much Closer

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.
Eleanor Roosevelt

Wow. People say that life is a roller coaster... and I don't think I have ever been hit with the truth of that statement until now. We can go from elation to fear in mere hours and I have to admit that my emotions are getting just a wee bit fried. Have I ever mentioned how much I HATE roller coasters?!

On Friday, Liam was doing absolutely fantastic on 1 liter of oxygen so they decided to take him completely off his cannula. They told me when I called to check on him around noon. Because I cannot drive yet, I was going to have to wait to go to the hospital but I was so excited to see his little face without that breathing tube. I called back around 8:30 that evening... and they told me that he didn't make it; his heart rate started dropping and he was huffing and puffing so they put him back on the oxygen. They put him at 2 liters but that didn't cut it so he had to go back up to 3. They were doing blood work and a chest x-ray to see what went wrong.

His chest x-ray just showed that he lost some lung volume and his blood work came back clean so we took a deep breath and relaxed. We were assured repeatedly that this is just a preemie thing- they might play this game for a few weeks before coming completely off oxygen.

By Saturday, he was back at 2 liters of oxygen but his respiratory rate was rather accelerated. They were keeping a close watch on him and never felt that it was enough to warrant putting him back up to 3 liters so we were feeling grateful for that. He was still gaining weight and looking good so we went home Saturday night feeling settled again.

At noon on Sunday we walked into the NICU and received a very different story. The nurse was standing over Liam's isolette and immediately asked if we had been called by the doctor or nurse practitioner- not a good sign. My heart completely sank.

The nurse explained that Liam is requiring more oxygen, his heart rate is up, and there is green discharge coming from his tummy again. They stopped feedings and had ordered another contrast x-ray for this morning. We still haven't heard the results of the tests. He was headed for the x-ray when Ryan called a few minutes ago. Up. Down. Up. Down. Loops. Twists. Turns... and we are only at the beginning.

One thing that I am having a difficult time swallowing is the nurses' insistence that touching Liam is not good for him. My mother came up to visit yesterday with one of her pastors- we went in to see Liam and he was WIDE awake. I have never seen him so alert and curious. He was looking all around and when I would talk to him he would turn his head and look right into my eyes. It was amazing. Occasionally, he would lose focus and his little eyes would cross and he would make the funniest face. He can usually only make it for a few minutes before sleep claims him again but we were there for over half an hour and he was bright-eyed the whole time. I wanted to love on him so much while he was awake, but the nurse told me that he did not need to be touched because she thinks he is getting sick and to just leave him alone. I have to tell you.. I have only been a mom for a few days and I have not even really had the chance to be a mom in the true sense of the word...but it is still difficult to listen to someone else tell me what to do with my child, especially when I am not sure I agree.

I had recently read this study which talks about the different types of touch preterm infants receive and how it seems to affect their well-being. We have been told that stroking Liam provides too much stimulation to his fragile nervous system; however, when we go during our "hands on" time we are encouraged to "cradle" him by placing our hands gently on him without stroking or rubbing. This study seems to back up this type of touch. It goes on to say that the medical touch that preterm infants receive most frequently (during medical procedures and such) can have negative affects. The problem is that Liam only has 4 "hands on" periods a day... and we are usually only able to make it to one or two of them. Two happen while Ryan is at work and one is at midnight. The only one we make consistently is the one at 8:00 p.m. and often we don't even get the chance to touch him because someone assumed we weren't coming and already took care of it. When we do make it, we take his temperature, change his diaper, wipe his mouth and then have a few minutes to love on him before closing him back up in his little box. Once I am able to drive again [WEDNESDAY!!], I will certainly be there more frequently during the day... but for now the majority of the touch my baby is receiving is cold, clinical, medical touch that cannot possibly be doing him any good. And then when I am able to be there, if it is even five minutes after their set time, I am told not to touch my own child. It just makes me angry.. and I have to remind myself to retract the claws because it does no good to kill the messenger. The nurses are just doing their jobs. But his heart rate and respiratory rate slow down whenever our hands are on him; everything in me disagrees... and sometimes I just want to scream at someone to BACK THE HELL OFF and give me a minute with my baby.

Okay. Thank you. I just needed to get that off my chest. Moving on....

I found this video online today. At the end it says something about a NICU baby's health regressing before it gets better.. and how this is normal. Every time the doctor tells us something new I ask, "Is this normal?" and they say yes. Everything Liam has faced so far is normal for a preemie of his size and gestational age. I also found this article about a miracle baby. I hold onto things like these to keep myself from losing it every time we hear a not-so-great report. We are not alone- other families have faced this. They made it. He will make it. It is normal. Normal. Normal. Normal.

I want so much to be able to look at all of this as a lesson in patience and courage and faith... and to know that we will overcome this and it will soon be a distant memory. I am really trying.

Normal.

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The Motherload

Laughter is like changing a baby's diaper. It doesn't permanently solve any problems, but it makes things more acceptable for a while.
Anonymous

One day, Liam will fill his diaper and Ryan and I will look at each other with fear in our eyes and begging on our lips: "Please! Please, please, please, please, please--- will you take care of this one?! Please! It is totally your turn. No, it's yours. No, it's yours. I'll do the dishes. Please!"

But for now we both really look forward to diaper changes. The hospital only allows a couple of "hands on" times a day. Sick babies are sick and need their rest.. and the little ones like Liam just were not counting on any cuddle time for a couple more months. [And trust me, our little one makes it perfectly clear how he feels about losing out on his alone time.]

So, taking Liam's temperature, changing his diaper, and wiping his mouth are the few ways that we can be involved in his care at the moment. And, for now...we really enjoy it.

At first the entire situation was really intimidating. I mean, I can change a baby's diaper with one hand. I have changed diapers in some very strange places and with some very interesting distractions. I have experienced blow-outs, blow-ups, spill-overs, and (my favorite) the pee-out. [For those of you who do not have any experience with little boys, this occurs when boy parts are pointed up and the baby pees all over his own shirt- leaving the diaper completely dry. It's like a magic trick!]

But I have to say I have never in my life changed the diaper of a 2 pound baby. His diapers, which are still too big for him, are smaller than most doll diapers. Add in all the wires and tubes and his little bird bones and you have a situation that left me, the diaper queen, practically hyperventilating. [Ryan, on the other hand, handled it without flinching. He is always surprising me. I love that man.]

It only took a couple of times for me to get used to it.. and, as an added bonus, it seems like the Gremlin is getting used to it as well; at least, he did not squeak through the entire experience last time... He is a wiggly little thing, but if he isn't crying, it keeps you from feeling so panicky and rushed.

I guess I can add "through the arm holes of an incubator" to my list of strange.

The boy needs to get some meat on his thighs..... Hey, I have some to spare!

I am taking that as a yawn of approval.

Last night, Liam "graduated" to the back row. He is in a new isolette and will now be allowed 3 visitors at a time. His color is looking better every day. He is gaining weight- 950 grams as of yesterday, only 20 grams below his birth weight! He is back on continues feedings, digesting well so far, and is down to 1 liter of oxygen. In spite of being warned repeatedly that he would probably have to bounce back to a ventilator, he has yet to do so- in fact, he is moving in the other direction. And.. he is a world-class pooper.

Things are looking pretty good today.

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Our New Normal

Laugh at yourself but don't ever aim your doubt at yourself.

Alan Alda

Ladies and Gentlemen... I am home.
And I am not wearing any pants.

I am not wearing any pants because I do not have to worry about a nurse, or doctor, or technician, or consultant, or housekeeper walking in on me every fifteen minutes. So... I am wearing Hello Kitty underwear.. and a t-shirt... and NO PANTS.

I would also like to point out that my blood pressure has stayed at least 20 points lower than it did at any point in the hospital- in spite of all the medication. Home is healing; home... and lack of pants.

On Tuesday night the doctor showed up around 10:00 p.m. and said I could go home. He also said he does not usually like to send people home so late but it is not often that he has a patient in the hospital for 8 days and so he wanted to give me the option. It was tempting to get the heck out of there... but it was not entirely practical. Nothing was packed up and we would have to go get my prescriptions filled and I was already tired because... apparently being sick and having major surgery can really wipe a person out. [Who knew?] So we waited until the morning.

I was very excited to be going home... but then.. it dawned on me: I would have to leave my baby here. I would be walking out the door without him and... you know what? That really sucks.

Everyone is constantly reminding me that things could be so much worse and that I am leaving him in good hands and that this is the best place for him to be and at least he is doing well and I am doing well and again, things could be So. Much. Worse. And, trust me when I say, I know this. I get this. It is completely and totally understood by my brain. It does not make it any easier to walk out the front door of a hospital while your brand-new (and oh so tiny) baby remains behind to incubate... because for whatever reason your body decided to betray you and now he is having to suffer the consequences long after you get to go home to your nice comfy bed and continue on with your life.

This entire situation occasionally feels like the practical joke from hell. Almost as if someone, somewhere sat around [performing the evil finger tap of contemplation] and came up with something they could throw at me that would leave me scratching my head.

Hmm... bizarre pregnancy induced illness leading to a micro-preemie! GO!

I have always wanted to raise my children naturally and organically. I wanted cloth diapers and homemade baby food and as little medical intervention as possible. And now my son is being nourished by lime green mystery fluids pumped into his veins through an IV.. and being lulled to sleep by the beeping of heart monitors and the voices of nurses reading off the stats while a box keeps him warm. Not my arms- not a cozy blanket.... a box. Yes, it is a very fancy box... it is the Cadillac of boxes as far as boxes go...but it is a box, nonetheless.

And I can only touch him for a few minutes a day. And there are so many things that could go wrong at any given moment. And... he is just so very tiny.

It is just a very strange thing to wrap my head around. And it is a very strange way to start our family.

As my mother likes to point out on a regular basis: Ryan and I do not do "normal." But it is never our choice- life just keeps happening to us without our permission. Sometimes I think that when we decided to get married, we signed some sort of contract that states that we will allow life to bend us over and make us its... *ahem* woman.... whenever it so desires.

So, today is the first day of, once again, recalibrating normal. I am not sure what it will look like.. but we have to start somewhere. And... I am quite happy to be home.

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Week One Down

The only reason for time is so everything doesn't happen at once.

Albert Einstein

Well, we have made it through our first full week. It is really amazing how quickly your brain shifts. Liam has been on the planet for seven days, every moment of it spent in this hospital, and already our lives would feel empty without that tiny little being in it.

There is still no word on when I will be released. I was given a glimmer of hope yesterday when the doctor mentioned the possibility of going home today..but it does not look like he is satisfied with my blood pressure yet. Today he has increased my medication again; I have never taken so many pills in my entire life. I have lost count of the exact number but it is upwards of 15 a day.

Occasionally, I have the urge to look up the diseases that I have since I have no working knowledge of them really... but then I remind myself that knowledge is not always power- sometimes, it only serves to terrify you. Maybe I will try to learn a little bit more after this is all over.

Dr. Story came by last night with her medicine bag and made me feel all better.

The same has been true for Liam's situation. Some preemie support groups and other resources have been suggested to me... but I cannot bring myself to get involved. Every baby is different- a fact the nurses remind us of every day- and the few times I have ventured online to look up preemie information, I end up stumbling on some story that leaves my heart racing. Liam is doing really great, but there is still a long road ahead of us, and many obstacles that could come along. We do not know what the future holds or how his rough start will affect him in the long run. I just do not need to be anticipating complications- whatever is going to happen will happen and we will deal with it when it comes.

As for today: he is looking good. He has a contrast x-ray scheduled for 4:00 to see if anything is going on with his little tummy because he started having some feeding issues. However, he has started gaining weight again and is back up to an even 2 pounds. He sleeps soundly on his belly and his color is looking great.

Holding Mama's hand for a brief minute before pushing her away. He definitely requires copious amounts of alone time. [I wonder where in the WORLD he got that from. Heh....]

I am pretty much obsessed with his feet and tooshie. I must have taken 20 pictures of each this afternoon. Ryan went back to work today so I went to the NICU for the first time alone. The nurse had already taken care of his diaper and tempurature, which was fine because they moved my IV into the inside nook of my left elbow [there is an actual medical term for this space which my mother rattled off when I complained about the IV being put here.. but I can't remember it]. This makes it pretty much impossible to bend my arm. So.. I just sat and stared at him; I am most definitely smitten with my little man.

I was also able to hold him for a few minutes the other day while his bed was changed. It was utterly terrifying. He was upset and wiggly and there are so many wires and tubes. I was afraid to breathe on him and have to admit to a sigh of relief when the nurse took him back. However, it has been indicated that after he is through with his contrast x-rays, holding him will become a regular part of our routine.. so it is something we are going to have to get used to. It will be Papa's turn next. He has done great with taking Liam's tempurature and changing his diaper so I think he will be just fine with holding him- if his attitude so far is any indication, he will probably handle it better than I did.

By the way... Ryan and I feel so blessed by our friends and family- we have received so much encouragement and help since this all began. It's amazing. Every single message, comment, text and phone call is so appreciated- it makes such a difference even if we aren't able to get back to everyone. We love you all. Thank you so much.

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Making His Feelings Known

It is some relief to weep; grief is satisfied and carried off by tears.
Ovid

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