9/28 (Wednesday) - started out like any other day. I was making casserole meals for the freezer and I also made Grace some sweet potato fries. She was playing with her ride on toy and we were having fun.
I had an OB appt later that day at 1:45pm. I hated them because my dr never listen to me. Always brushed it off as "normal for a 2nd time mom." My mom gut said otherwise, but I always let it be for 2 reason. 1. It's a dr and they are SUPPOSED to know what they are talking about. 2. I don't like confrontation at all. This is also the reason I won't sue. I also didn't want to go because it was hot, my car had no A/C and I just knew Grace would fall asleep on the 45 minute ride to the OB, therefore throwing off her entire bedtime.
I also remember for a week before this appt counting contractions with Kris. Saying these are 5 minutes apart and I've had them for 5 hours. I call my dr and he says he doesn't want to hear from me until they are 5-1-1 AND I can't talk through them. They definitely weren't THAT bad. I could still play with Grace, go for mile walks with her, cook dinner, swim... They were uncomfortable and some stopped me in my track, but I always could talk through them.
So I go to my appt and he says I'm 7cm and a million thoughts go through my head. Happy, sad, excited, worried, anxious. Will I make it home before my water breaks? Will Kris make the delivery (he was over an hr away from the hospital in the other direction). I NEVER once thought to be worried about his lungs. Why? I'm a nurse. I should know this!! But all I was was excited to meet my son and just (naively) assumed everything would go as Grace's delivery... PEEFECT!
I couldn't be further from the truth. I made it home!! Grace, sure enough, fell asleep. I call my husband, he's on his way home. I call my mom... She says I'm leaving now. Stay put.
Dr says to come to the hospital around 8-9pm. The hosptial is 45 minutes away. Once Kris got home we all made the decision to just to the town where the hospital was so that IF my water broke we'd be right there. We went to Pizza Hut for dinner (it's about 5pm). Grace was silly as ever. My contractions starting picking up but nothing awful. I think nerves were sitting in. I even paid for our meal and was talking to the cashier about how "I was going to have my boy in a few hours!!!" I was so stupid to think he'd fine. But no one really knew when he was conceived an due dates were off so I assumed he was around 37 weeks. Grace was born at 37 weeks and she fine, why wouldn't he be?
So then we went to Khols. We shopped for a birthday present for a friend's son. Then the contractions started really picking up! About 30 minutes of awful pain I tell everyone I'm going to the hospital now (it's about 7pm). I kiss Grace and leave a ball of nerves and in so much pain!! I get to hosptial and get settled, the dr comes in an starts telling me there may be issues "because he's only 35 weeks." He tells me I should have told him about my contracts (I DID) because he's too early. He says this in front of the nurse who now must think I'm the biggest idiot in the world for allowing my son to come so early! Prick! I HATE that man. I have such feelings against him it hurts.
Anyway, I get an epidural which didn't work anyway. I felt everything and to this day wish I had just gone natural. Pitocin is started (stupid, stupid me for not saying no, but again Grace had pitocin too and she was fine). This all about 9:30. By 10pm a million people are in the room because I'm ready to push. At 10:24pm my sweet little boy was born. Should have been a joyous occasion right? WRONG!! He is thrown on my chest for literally a second with the pediatrician's hands on him so I can't even hug him, or hold him.
Immediately taken away. I thought, he was 6lbs 1oz, he's DEFINITELY ok. I didn't see him again until 4:20am when my very kind nurse saw that I was dying inside because NO ONE would tell me how he was. This what I found...
My poor husband had to go see him and come back to tell me what they said. If I hadn't of had that stupid epidural I could have seen him right away! Everyone is telling me "he's just having a little issue breathing so he's on O2." "He'll be fine." "He might have to stay until Sunday or Monday (he was born on a Wednesday), no big deal." "Oh they just put him on CPAP but he's still doing fine." STUPID, STUPID ME!! I should have known something was up. I shoold have demanded to spend every minute I could by his side. Instead I wanted to believe he was ok so I just made myself believe it, even though my gut said otherwise.
The next day my dad, mom, brother, grandma and GRACE (yay) all came to visit Luke. Only they could just look at him through the glass of the special care nursery. I never got to cuddle my newborn just after birth. I never got to show of my baby. I never got to take funny videos of him hiccuping and bond with him with just Kris and I like we did with Grace. Instead I had to stare at him through the glass and answer family's questions of "why does he look so bad?" Instead I had to see the look of fear on my mother's face the 1st time I showed her her new grandson. It was horrible! Looking at my mom's face told me just now bad be was and he was BAD, I just didn't want to admit it. This is all about 11am.
By 12pm nurses and doctors are running in and out of the special care nursery. They are looking at me and quickly looking away do they don't had to talk to me. SOMETHING is going on but they won't tell me. There are whispers and quiet telephone calls that I can hear. I hear the word "transport" "better equipped" "can't handle this." My stomach drops (and I am on tear right now thinking of this). I just know he's not "fine" like they say.
12:30 they finally talk to me. Tell me an xray showed his left lung collapsed and it was caused by the CPAP. They say a transport crew from the NICU at hospital 45 minutes away from this hospital is coming to get him within the hour. They say they have to put a chest tube in at this hospital BEFORE the transport and it is not an emergency just yet. The transport team is that by 1:15. I'm signing papers for the chest tube procedure. I'm signing papers for them to take my brand new baby away and I'm trusting them with his life. Mind you, Luke is just about 14 hrs old here. I still haven't held him.
They do the chest tube and he's comfy from the morphine they gave him. They tell Kris and I to say a QUICK goodbye. He's in an isolette with literally 15 people around him, 5-10 of which are the transport team. They bring him into my hospital room where my family is. They get to see him for the 1st time up close! I got to see his chest tube and I felt horrible, but he looked pretty comfy. We took some pictures, said goodbye and that was that. I watch them wheel my baby boy away and I break down. At this point though I still think he's mostly "fine," but is as just wishing at this point. I tell everyone in my room to leave (all my family stated above). I tell my nurse I was to be discharged NOW!! I pull my mom aside and say I just want my dad to leave and not her and my grandma and Grace. And Grace, she was such a trooper! Let the NICU transport team nurse pick her up. She liked her stethoscope and she stole the nurse's pen.
My mom "pretends" to leave so my dad will leave. I'm signing papers for discharge. Around 2pm we are ready to go. This is about 15 hours AFTER I'VE GIVEN BIRTH!! We were told to not go straight to the NICU since they need time to get him settled. They to us to go get something to eat. We go to Applebee's (I will never go there again since its filled with such bad memories). Grace fell asleep in the car and my mom stayed out with her to let her sleep. Kris, my grandma and I are *trying* to make small talk but no one really cares... We all just want Luke. Our meal comes, my mom an Grace join us and Grace is the only one who eats. Everyone is sick to their stomachs. I say I HAVE to go see my son, I've waited long enough.
We leave, I say goodbye to Grace again. I hated it! On the way to the hospital no one talked. It's just Kris and me now. What do we say? All I dared say was "do you think he's ok?" I wondered he made it to the hospital safely, if he was alive, if he was lost somewhere and we would never see him again. We saw a rainbow on the way and I just knew that was God tell me to trust in Him.
We get there (at about 7pm), go up and see him. AWFUL! My poor baby. All those tubes, wires, machines. He's in the sickest part of the NICU away from noise and stimuli because even that was too much for him. The pain on his face still makes me cry.
I later found out that he stopped breathing 2xs in the transport. I luckily didn't find this out until the next day or so. I'm grateful they kept this hidden from me because I would have been even more worried that I already was. I found out when I say in on rounds and his neonatologist stated it matter-of-factly.
We walk into the room and there was a man taking care of him. I wrongly assumed he was the dr. WRONG. He says "I'm Mitch, and I'm Luke's nurse tonight." WTF? A male nurse??! Now I'm a nurse, I should be more than accepting of male nurses. I shouldn't have thought twice and I never have. But all of a sudden when it was MY baby, MY precious life HE was taking care of I freaked. I told Kris when we went to get some food that "I didn't like him, and didn't want him by my son." I don't think it was Mitch really that "I didn't like." I didn't like the whole thing. Mostly I did like that I *thought* he wouldn't be nurtured and cared for in a "mom way" because his nurse was a MAN!!
Boy was I wrong! Mitch was the best nurse we could have gotten!! THE BEST NURSE!! He was so sweet, caring and genuinely loved our son. He was soft spoken and always encouraged us to ask questions. He was Luke's nurse that 1st time on the NICU. He let BOTH Kris and I stay overnight even thought it was "against the rules" because Luke was that bad and I think he pitied us. He was Luke's nurse that night when he got his 2nd chest tube, when he stopped breathing 5 times during that 1st night there because of apnea from the morphine. He nurtured my son, cared for my son, and helped Luke through the very worst night there. For that I will always be grateful! I am so sorry I judged him that way.
That next morning my mom came with Grace. Grace wasn't allowed in because Luke was so bad. He need quiet. He needed no stimulation. Kris played with her outside while my mom and I sat with Luke. We weren't allowed to talk, we had to whisper, we could only touch his diaper, the ligts we off. We couldn't rub him or stroke his little foot because any amount of stimulation could stress him. Just rubbing his foot could KILL him. So scary! All I wanted to do was touch him and I couldn't. It was scary to say the least. I wanted him to hold my finger but he couldn't. They said he was lacking reflexes and something could be wrong. I truly believe he was just to weak to hold my hand. My poor little boy was doing everything just to keep breathing. His little chest would sink on every breath, you could see his ribs each time. And because he was in respiratory distress his breathing rate was FAST, like 150's fast, normal is 60-80. He looked so pathetic and my poor mom was so scared. I was scared.
Praise the Lord Mitch was our nurse that 2nd night there too! He was there the that night when my little booger ripped his IV out, you think he was feeling better? I woke at around 3am to some noise. Because of the precious night I freaked and automatically thought something was wrong. Instead I found Mitch and another nurse shinning a light on my son's foot. I asked of something wrong and they said no, he just ripped his IV out! That light finds the baby's viens because they are so tiny and translucent (almost) so the light makes it easier to see and is gentler on the babies that poking them and praying you got their time little vein. Mitch had to put his IV in his foot because Luke already pulled it out of both hands. The next morning Mitch told me it took 2 hrs for him to get just IV in!! 2 hrs!! Who does that? He said he didn't want to hurt my son and cause him any more pain than he was/already in. Mitch got us through our very worst times. Mitch was also there my son opened his eyes for the very 1st time. It was amazing! So cute and he was alert.
The next morning Luke had his last apnea episode that I had the "pleasure" of witnessing.
Kris was in the family waiting room on the phone. I walked into Luke's room to visit. All of a sudden his alarms went off (which isn't uncommon in the NICU). Then his breathing rate goes way down. I scream down the hall for someone to help!! They come running in. He had stopped breathing at this point. I'm watching the whole thing and Mitch asks me if I'm ok. I say "I don't care, take care of him." I watched as they tried stimulating my son to breath, I watched as Luke turned dusky grey then blue. I watched as they bagged him and shook him and called him. I prayed, begging the good Lord to let him breath. Finally after what seemed like forever he stabilized. Everything went back to normal, but I will NEVER forget that moment. 2 second later Kris walks in and says "what's up?" Oh if you only knew...
That 3rd morning proved a turning point!! We could talk in normal voices, we could touch him. This was also the point I told them NO MORE MORPHINE. I told them Tylenol only. He would still probably be in pain, but that was better than a dead son. They agreed.
And that's the night we had to go home and leave him there. Alone, with just the beep of the monitors, the checks by the nurses and my heart in his hand. Because even though I had to go home, my heart stayed in that NICU.
