The NICU Files

It's time for another episode of Logan's NICU files. I keep whining about wanting to get this down but I never get to it. I have time of course. I could blog between Logan's frequent awake times in the middle of the night or when he has wandered off to try and crawl the hardwood stairs. I could even fit in a post while Grayson gives Logan his five minute bath. But I put it off. And then I regret it. So today as Logan pulls on my socks and plays with the dental floss, I am going to continue his story!

Logan had been in the NICU for about a week and had experienced a few serious apnea spells. He just couldn't seem to figure out how to breath. Each day we saw an x ray of his lungs and they looked awful. Think of ground beef forced through a meat grinder. At least that's the picture I had in my mind when the doctors explained how damaged the lungs were. They were swollen and collapsed and had a white cloudy film all over them. The air sacs were bleeding and the lungs were filling with blood as well. Each day the x ray tech would wheel in a huge machine and tell us to stand 6 feet away to avoid radiation exposure. I was baffled. If I shouldn't be exposed to that much radiation then how could my teeny baby handle it? It was truly heartbreaking.

I sat next to Logan all the time. I obsessively watched every breathe he tried to take. It looked so hard. His chest would collapse and then he would make a wet raspy gasping sound to breathe in. It was awful to listen to but I could not leave or take a break. I was afraid something would happen. I didn't trust the nurses yet. Logan stopped breathing one day and alarms and beeps were going off. My nurse was on break and  no one else really came over to see if he was ok. Finally a nurse across the isle asked if he was ok. I told her that no he wasn't because he wasn't breathing!! She casually looked up from what she was doing and said not to worry since he was on a ventilator. I frantically told her that he wasn't and she decided to make her way over to us. Once she realized that the situation was pretty serious she had a few more nurses come over and worked on getting Logan breathing again. After that I never wanted to leave. I felt like these people just weren't going to take good care of him. I was his mother and knew what was best.

As the breathing problems continued and got worse, Logan kept having horrible apnea spells. He had been struggling day and night with his oxygen saturation. A new doctor had come on duty and had taken me to a private room to talk about Logan's prognosis. Immediately he told me how bad the situation was. I teared up as I listened to him explain that Logan's lungs were undeveloped and hugely damaged. There was also a hole between his heart and lungs that usually closes up after birth but hadn't. This was causing blood to be pumped into Logan's lungs which were already bleeding. This new doctor was fairly blunt. He laid everything out on the table and made me aware of how horrible everything really was. I had been in a daze up till then, not really focusing on the problems and mostly just sitting by. After our discussion I was on edge and weepy and full of guilt. It was decided that things had deteriorated to the point that Logan was put on a ventilator. A nurse called me at 4:00 am in the morning explaining that Logan was no longer able to breathe without help. He had just 'crapped' out. He was too tired and sick to try anymore. My mom and I arrived the next morning and saw Little Logan hooked up to a huge machine. His body already had tubes and wires everywhere and this just added to his. His breathing looked so mechanical and synchronized. However I felt relieved. If this heavy duty machine could breath for him then he could heal and get better. He was also give steroids to help close the hole between his lungs and heart. Grayson seemed to know that this was pretty serious because steroids had side effects like cystic fibrosis and developmental delays. I worried but everyone convinced me that the benefits were worth the risk. In a couple days the hole had closed up but Logan was still getting worse.

Looking back now, I feel kind of lucky that I didn't really understand what was going on. If I would have realized how seriously close to death my baby was I never would have gone home at night or taken a break for lunch or gone to the bathroom. Logan was so sick and while the ventilator was helping him breathe, the inflammation and fluid in his lungs weren't getting better. The ventilator made Logan's lungs expand fully and that was too hard on the damaged tissue. I remember walking in one morning and seeing a big loud shaking machine next to Logan's bed. In fact he was connected to it. I learned that this was a new ventilator and this was the end of the line. If this new ventilator didn't help, there was nothing else that could be done. I was numb. I couldn't possibly imagine my life without Logan. I had a hard time imaging Logan ever leaving the hospital but the thought of him not making it was unbearable. I was constantly praying and constantly crying. It was all so overwhelming and I could not figure out how I was ever going to make it through the next minute, let alone the next hour or day. But somehow Grayson and I held on. And slowly slowly slowly Logan started getting better.

My BOY is ONE!

Oh dear OH DEAR! I can't believe it has been so very long since I last posted. Remember how I was going to blog more and enjoy my bath time? Well I have seriously been enjoying my baths!

I also have been enjoying my baby too. My sweet duck turned one ONE last month and although he is not yet walking or crawling, I am all over the place trying to entertain him and get him to eat and sleep and learn. It's a huge job and one that I love...most of the time. And while I still want to finish Logan's birth/life/93 days in the hospital story, I am going to take some time to brag about his life now.

 

Over the past few months Logan has been growing like a weed. He was in 3 month clothes forever and I had a mini celebration when he graduated to 6 month clothes. I was confident he would stay that size for quite a while so I was shocked when only a couple weeks later his pants were too short! He gains weight very slowly but he is growing longer by the minute.

He is way more social now and vocal too. He usually makes his feelings known with his mouth wide open and has mastered his mama, dada and gaga sounds. He has no clue that I am actually 'mama' but it's cute to hear him jabber and try to figure out new sounds. Sometimes it seems like he is speaking in complete sentences. It's amazing how he picks up on little things like how I talk with my hands and make faces. He'll watch me closely and then shake his arms and blabber very seriously about who knows what. I just can't help but laugh at perfect those moments are.

Each day is full of new discoveries and I love watching him process things. I have to hold myself back when he gets frustrated because I know he needs to figure things out. I guess I just got so used to doing everything for him and now he is getting independent. It's hard to see him grow up but it is such a blessing that he is doing so well.

I honestly can't believe it has been a year since Logan's freak entrance into my life. I was so scared for so long and there were moments when I wondered if this day would ever come. But it has and now I need to learn to back off a little and hover less.

I remember one day in the NICU shortly after Logan was born. The nurse on duty was very intimidating and made it very clear that I was to leave Logan alone. I sat in an uncomfortable office chair and stared at my baby. He was twitching and cringing and seemed to be in a lot of pain. All I wanted to do was put my hand on his little body and make everything better. I got tears in my eyes and was getting really overwhelmed. Before long I was crying hard but quietly trying not do draw attention to myself. I couldn't comprehend how I ended up there with a small sick baby. My mom came around to where I was sitting and told me to touch my baby. I was so terrified but slowly I opened up one of the little side panels while the nurse wasn't watching and put my hand on Logan's body. Pretty soon both Logan and I relaxed and my tears slowed down. It was so peaceful to be able to just touch him and I felt like things would be ok. Of course things got must worse after that but in the end Logan healed and grew into the sweet boy he is now. And I get to hold him and cuddle him and love him all I want.



Logan is such a joy. I never knew that one mini man could make me love so much and so fully. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure that I am actually here, living in this moment. I thank my Heavenly Father each day for the miracle that Logan is and the happiness he brings into our home.
If I forget to count my blessings, there is a small little dude by my side who squeals or bites my finger to remind me how truly lucky I am. The days are sometimes hard and the nights are long while Logan continues to struggle with his breathing but I am pretty sure I wouldn't change anything. In fact I know KNOW that I wouldn't change a thing.

A little PTSD for thought...

Oh my goodness! I can't believe how long it has been since I last posted! I have written and rewritten this post in my head like a billion times and I finally FINALLY took a moment to myself to get my thoughts down. Logan's story is still fresh in my mind and it needs to be told. I mostly want it down so I can feel more at ease. That seems weird but the more I go over it in my mind the more I remember. The more I remember the more I see that this was a huge test on my faith and personal growth. I can look back now and see what I actually survived and what an immense presence the Lord has in my life at the time. It is also a very good reminder that miracles happen and prayers are answered. I love my little guy more than ever now and it is good to be so aware of how much I am blessed by having Logan around.

So I was speaking to my doctor the other day and I mentioned how exhausted I was. Not just physically but emotionally as well. I understand the physical part of it. A baby is a lot of work and while I love every minute of it (mostly), it does take a lot out of me. I sometimes feel like I am not mother material because I am so incredibly tired. I usually end up having a nap with Logan in the mornings so I can catch up on sleep and not deal with a messy house and dirty laundry that I should be taking care of. What kind of mother sleeps during the day? I use the excuse that I usually don't sleep at night but I have been dealing with that my whole life so it's not a huge deal. The rest of the day I just try to entertain Logan enough to keep him from fussing when I should be doing flash cards and animal noises and practicing ABCs. I feel so inadequate but I push that aside cause someone is hungry or needs a diaper change (not me!)

Anyway as my doctor and I talked and as I thought more about things I realized that part of the problem was how I felt inside too. Not sad or depressed really but just kinda flat. I have really pride myself on how mature and wonderful I have become since high school but moving home I have been a little irritable and short with my family and I haven't really taken care of myself. I mean I sat with Logan for three months in the hospital and then we were grounded to the house for another three months. Let's just say that the baby fat was added onto (and yes there was baby fat even though Logan weighed less than an Oreo cookie) and I have just sort of justified that.  But what really got me thinking was when the doctor said something that kinda shocked me. He told me I had been through a major trauma and that he was surprised I was coping as well as I was. Major trauma? Nah...of course it was a little scary having Logan so early and it was trying being in the hospital for so long but there weren't broken bones or massive head injuries involved. He asked me what I felt the most as Logan spent time in the hospital and out of nowhere I realized that the stress and overwhelming emotions that I had each day could be described as traumatic.
First I never got to hold Logan when he was born. I had been looking forward to that the most and while I brushed that aside due to the circumstances I still mourn about that a little. I really psyched myself up for that moment and it was disappointing when it didn't happen. But at the time it was the least of my worries. The second thing I remembered was that everyday EVERYDAY for two whole months I questioned whether Logan would survive. Grayson had a lot more faith than I did and seemed to know that Logan had a mission here on earth and would pull through but I didn't share those thoughts. Each night as I left the hospital I prepared myself for the fact that I might not see Logan alive again. Even now it brings me to tears so I can only imagine what it did to me then. Most mothers don't prepare to say goodbye for good each night when they kiss their kids and tuck them in. Even some of the other moms in the NICU never had to think about that. But I just added that to my little bag of stored up emotions that I would deal with later and called the nurses 14 times a night and got there early the next morning to sit and stare at my baby. It was what I felt I had to do. I did the bare minimum to take care of myself and made sure I was with Logan the majority of the time to watch his chest move up and down.

So looking back at the whole experience now (I seem to do that way too much...hence the need to write this stuff down) it was a total trauma. And I haven't dealt with it properly. I have been too busy loving my baby and counting my blessings. Why should I take of me when I am responsible for a little miracle? I carry Logan around and go through each day the best I can. But my doctor helped me to realize that I need to empty my emotion bag out. Logan is getting heavy and hauling him plus my boulder filled feelings bag is dragging me down. I need to get feeling better for Logan AND for myself.  It's funny how a trip for a refill of birth control can be so eye opening.

And so I made a promise to myself. Continue telling Logan's story. Get it all out...every feeling and thought and emotion. And remember what a joy motherhood is. I also need to take time for me. I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Logan has survived living with me for all these months now that I must be doing a few things right.

So here's to more blog posts and bubble baths. More kisses and confessions. More loving and letting go. I can do it!

Lucky Me!

It has been over a month since I last posted and while Logan's story is fresh in my mind and I am just itching to finish it up we have had some major changes in the past couple of months and I have been overwhelmed with saying goodbye to good friends and Portland and packing and moving and and unpacking and staying in my parents basement.

It's not that bad but I like having my own space that I can leave Logan's things everywhere and a place where I don't have to worry if I forget to close a window when I turn on the AC or if I load the dishwasher wrong. My parents are great and have really made us feel at home. My dad encouraged us (rather persistently) to empty all the boxes in the garage so we could feel settled and my mom was really excited to inform me that I could cook dinner each night and take care of the dishes each morning! I guess I'm lucky because I will have the house all to myself during the day. I'll be free to hold a teething, slobbering fussy child for 8 hours straight who has yet to adjust to the one hour time change and sleep through the night. An adorable baby who refuses to have a regular bowel movement in this time zone (bring on the suppositories and explosions). I also get to do laundry and clean and cook for my new family of 5. I just can't wait for Gray to start work again cause it will eliminate my nap time and bring home very little money (since he has no clients yet...) And don't get me started on the wonderful increased price of everything and even more expensive gas. Yipee! And seriously who could forget that winter is fast approaching and I will be privileged enough to become a hermit because any attempt to go outside after 4 years of Portland weather would be plain insanity. I don't even think we own a warm jacket for Logan.

As we get more comfortable with being back home and close to family I just can't help but jump for joy. Here's to midnight screamings, feedings and backed up bowels. To cold toes, noses and jacked up prices. To cleaning and weaning and cooking galore! It's great to be home!!!

* a small note to everyone: I am aware that I am hugely blessed with a super amazing family and healthy baby and really just wrote this late at night while I was overtired and sicked of being nagged about minor things. It's all in good fun *

SWAT Team

I don't remember the days anymore. I just remember different moments. I wish I would have kept a better record of what was happening with Logan but I was still so shocked and spent most of my time just staring at him and counting each breath he took. We were told by the doctors that his lungs were pretty bad. No where close to being where they needed to be. Each breath Logan took hurt and he struggled at first. The nurses tried to give him something to ease the pain but he had an allergic reaction to it. He whole body twitched and shuddered while the nurse tried to tell me it was a normal response. He was just trying to get used to his body and his neurons were firing like crazy. I knew she was wrong though. There was no way that what Logan was doing was normal. Sometimes when he twitched his whole body would jump. I mean he literally got air and finally I convinced his nurse to take another look. They agreed and took him off of the Adderall and started a Morphine drip to see if that helped. It was a major improvement. He still moved a little and twitched and always managed to somehow throw his hands up over his head but he was more still and looked rested.  I made the mistake of relaxing a little after a couple days. And then about the third or fourth day I walked into the NICU early in the morning and Logan was just laying there. He hands and arms were laying limp at his sides and his breathing was labored. He was really pale and was hardly moving at all. I was filled with dread because I knew something was wrong. The nurse explained that Logan wasn't making enough red blood cells and would need a blood transfusion. It was so scary and I asked if I could give Logan the blood he needed. They said that they didn't really do that in the hospital because it was a long process and Logan needed the blood right away. He was too worn out from trying to breath. I had to sign some forms and then I watched as they hooked up a little syringe full of blood. There was probably only like 2 tablespoons in the syringe but it was what Logan needed. Not long after the transfusion he was nice and pink again and reached his arms up high over his head just to reassure me he felt better. Gray joked that all Logan needed was a steak and I decided that he could get a syringe of blood every day after that if it helped him improve so much. However my relief was short lived. The next evening as we were getting ready to go home Logan just stopped breathing. He had been working so hard to breath and sort of decided he was done. Alarms rang and whistles blew. Our nurse was on a break so I looked around for someone to help Logan. I finally yelled at a nurse on the other side of the NICU that Logan wasn't breathing. She looked up at me and said it was ok because he was on a ventilator. I quickly told her that he was not at all on a ventilator and was in real trouble. She hustled over then and made some excuse about how she forgot that Logan had been on a ventilator the week before. I looked at her like she was crazy because the week before my baby was still inside me. By then a few more nurses came over and started stroking Logan and rubbing his feet and encouraging him to take a breath. They even picked him up and turned him over to get him breathing again. I was hysterical just watching them flip my tiny baby around so I walked into one of the family rooms and closed the door. I cried and said a prayer pleading for Heavenly Father to help Logan. I could hear them frantically working on Logan so I took a few moments to calm myself and then went back out. The first person I saw was Grayson and he was crying. I immediately assumed the worst and rushed to the end of Logan's incubator. I remember thinking that I needed to see Logan one last time. I memorized his little face as the doctors and nurses continued to work on him. I cried for everything I would never experience with him and I again felt immensely guilty for bringing him into the world too early. And then, just like that, he took a breath and I began to hold mine. I stared and urged him to take another deep breath and slowly slowly he started to breath again.  Grayson came over and we watched as Logan kept on breathing. The nurse practitioner came over and explained to us that Logan had just experienced some called a bradycardia. He has stopped breathing which caused his heart rate to lower and set off the alarms. I never wanted to see that happen again. I told Logan that he had to keep breathing and he wasn't allowed to bring in the swat team of nurses and doctors anymore. I think I aged five years that night. I finally agreed to go home and get some rest but I called the NICU every two hours to make sure he was still breathing. He did but it only got harder. And poor Logan was in for some huge changes.

Arms still up after all the hard work of breathing

I gave birth to a space monkey...true story!

I was sitting on a blow up doughnut trying to forget what had happened the night before. I still couldn't believe that I had just had a baby. And I was preparing myself for bad news. For some reason I thought my baby was going to die. He couldn't survive in this world because he wasn't ready for it. So I kept telling myself that I would just have to try again. I was tearing up and I was getting sad. My body ached and my head was sore. And I had to come to terms with the fact that my baby wasn't going to make it.

I tried to figure out how I got here. I had waited so long to be a mom. I joked with people that all I wanted was a baby and Gray was the one that didn't.  In reality I don't think I was really ready for the responsibility. I was terrified of raising a child in this crazy world and I was so worried that I would be a horrible mother and screw up. But as time went on and people kept having adorable babies, I kind of changed my thinking. Maybe I could do this. When girls that I use to babysit started having their own babies I decided I was ready for that adventure too.  When we got pregnant I was beyond happy and a little smug. No one was gonna steal my thunder. I would accept the congrats and enjoy the attention. Then my sister Angie had also announced that she was pregnant and I was freaking out because as the oldest child I had to have the first baby. So I told my baby to hurry up and bake because I was waiting for him. I thought about all this as we drove to the NICU and I blamed myself for rushing my baby. I put too much pressure on him and now I was just going to have to start all over again.

We arrived at the hospital and went to see Logan. When I first saw him I was speechless. And I just stared.There is no way to describe it. Later on when I would describe what he looked like I said that his body was the size of a pop can with string cheese sticks for arms and legs. Small just didn't explain it.  His skin was completely see through and an awful orange red color. I saw all his veins and they were as thin as a piece of thread. The nurses had been trying to get an IV in his arm and he had pokes and knicks all over his skin. His head was smaller than a tennis ball and his ears were paper thin. I thought they were stuck against his head and they looked like you could just peel them off. His eyes were still fused shut and very swollen.  He had small tubes up his nose that were connected to bigger tubes. Those tubes were held in place by the most welfare looking setup called CPAP. Safety pins and elastic bands were attached to a little knit hat. His face was squished because the little hat was so tight and his nostrils were inflamed and red from having things shoved up his nose that were too big. If there was such a thing as a space monkey, I was looking at one. He was so sick and strange looking and I felt guilty for not thinking he was the perfect child.  My poor baby just lay there and I had no idea what was going on with him. My eyes were full of tears and my heart was just breaking. The nurse that day was nice and sort of explained all the tubes and bells and whistles connected to Logan but mostly left us alone. I sat down in a swivel chair and pulled it right up to his incubator. I pressed my face up against the edge and watched him breath. His breaths were really shallow and I could see his heart beating really fast. Our night nurse came on and explained a lot more but I just sat next to Logan late into the night. Gray went home to sleep and still I just sat and stared.

I think I went to sleep for maybe an hour that night but the alarms on Logan's bed kept going off and I would jump up and rush over to make sure he was still breathing. Every breath looked so painful and I had never wanted to trade places with anyone so much. I had put Logan in to this awful situation and I would have given anything to take all his pain away. But part of me was still not quite connecting with this child. He needed me but it was still so surreal. I couldn't even touch him and yet I was his mother and he needed me. There had to be something I could do for this teeny baby that could help him. I was convinced if I could just touch him that he would feel better. However another nurse had come on for the day shift and she was all business. She told me that Logan's skin was like wet tissue paper and just the smallest touch could cause it to peel off. With the nurse nazi hovering around I was too scared to even look at Logan.
So I pumped. It was beyond embarrassing at first but my boobs were making food for my little guy and every drop would help. And I began to calm down. I even had the audacity to think that I could handle this whole situation. I would just take it day by day. Be there for Logan and see how things turned out. Everyone was so optimistic about him that I started to think that he would be ok.

Unfortunately it was a feeling that was very short lived and I soon realized that I was in no way prepared to deal with what was coming.

3 days old... CPAP and sunglasses

Without the bells and whistles

I spent 5 years of my life attending university. I worked hard... like insanely hard. I majored in Education and I was shocked at the amount of work that was required. I had to write lessons plans on how to write lesson plans. I had classes on how to teach classes. I had to take a music class, a PE class and an art class on how to be a musical, PE, art teacher. When I finally finally graduated I was so proud of myself. I had earned my degree and after all my work and five long years, I became a teacher.

It only took 35 minutes for me to become a mother. It was a fast, hysterical time and totally insane. And I wouldn't call it my finest moment either. I wasn't proud of this accomplishment.  I was pretty sure my baby wasn't going to survive and I was pretty mad about it.

People immediately started congratulating us and I was stunned. Seriously? Getting congratulated on having a premature baby is like thanking someone for rear ending you. It just doesn't work. I felt like I was being applauded for having an incompetent cervix and being too stupid to realize that I had been having contractions for weeks now. I mean the last two days I had been IN LABOR and I had no clue.  

The rest of the night was weird.  The doctor from the NICU called and explained what was going on with Logan. I was totally confused and overwhelmed so I just mumbled a few things and hung up. I remember being hooked up to a breast pump early early in the morning and I almost laughed at the teeny amount of milk I got. I was told that pumping was one of the main things I could do to help Logan. The lactation specialist said I was producing liquid gold and needed to be sure to save every single drop. I was also totally humiliated that the nurse just pulled my gown off and poked and squeezed my boobs like it was a normal thing to do. In reality that was just the beginning. Over the next three months my poor boobs would be seen and touched and squished by most of the NICU staff and even some of Logan's doctors.

After breakfast I starting getting antsy about being in the hospital. I wanted to leave but at the same time I just wanted to forget everything that had happened. I wanted to get up and I wanted to go back to sleep. Grayson was supposed to come get me later in the afternoon so we could go see Logan but I also thought about just staying in the hospital and avoiding whatever was going on with him. The doctor and nurse both suggested that I stay another night and get better. They still had no idea why I went into preterm labor and I was not feeling well. However I had a nagging feeling that I needed to go see my baby. I was so unprepared for what I saw.