One step forward, one step back

B and I went back to the hospital yesterday morning for Elizabeth's 11:00 feeding, and while we were there, I tackled the nurse practitioner for information. He did a quick review of her chart and asked if we had her car seat already. When we said we did, he told us to bring it with us in the evening for a seat check. When I asked if that meant we'd be bringing her home, he said, "I need to examine her and take a closer look at her chart, but I don't see much that's keeping her here." If I hadn't been holding Elizabeth at the time, I would have been jumping up and down, stitches be damned.

So we went home and got the car seat all ready, and I called a few people with the news that we might be able to bring her home.

We went back to the hospital for Elizabeth's 5:00 feeding to get the news that she hadn't woken up for her 2:00 feeding and so they had had to tube feed her. I nearly crumbled right there and then.

Basically, Elizabeth has to go 48 hours without needing to be tube fed at all. It doesn't matter whether she nurses or uses a bottle, she just has to wake up enough to eat by mouth every three hours for 48 hours. So her tube feeding yesterday afternoon reset the clock. It will be Sunday afternoon at the earliest before she can come home.

I am beyond frustrated at this point. Even though I KNOW this is for the best, I can't help but wonder, "What if she's just not hungry every three hours? What if she was just tired and wanted to snooze a little longer? Who says she HAS to eat every three hours? What if she always wants to sleep through her 2:00 feeding?"

As is my nature, I've spiraled straight into expecting the worst-case scenario - that it will be weeks before we can bring her home because she'll keep having just one feeding where she sleeps. It seems like there should be some wiggle room involved.

I was so blue last night that I skipped out on watching a movie with B and the girls and climbed into bed to cry. I really don't want the girls to see how upset and worried I am.

We'll be going in at 2:00 and 8:00pm today for feedings. Keep your fingers crossed that she wakes up and eats like she needs to.

I'm home

I'm home, but Elizabeth isn't.

My doctor tried everything she could think of to keep me in, but the hospital was packed and there were women in labor and delivery stacked up, waiting for rooms.

I was ok on the drive home, but once I got to the house, I fell apart. I went into my frantic, keep moving so that I don't have to think mode. B got home from picking Ella up at rock climbing to find me sitting on the floor in Campbell's room searching through boxes looking for the head support that goes with the car seat. He picked me up and steered me to the bedroom and put me in bed while I sobbed.

Campbell made me feel better later in the night. I came in the bedroom to find him tucked into my side of the bed with my book, waiting for me. I nearly started crying again. I got a good snuggle in with him until B swooped him off to bed.

This morning's report on Elizabeth is good. She drank two bottles last night without needing the feeding tube. I'm headed in at 11:00 to feed and rock her and to snorgle her (Thanks Becca for my new favorite word). I'll probably go back in at 5:00 for another feeding. My goal is to be at the hospital twice a day.

My mother arrives tomorrow morning, which will be a huge help. She can be at the house spoiling the kids while B and I are at the hospital.

Thanks again to everyone for all the wonderful notes of support.

Plateau

Notice that B's thumb is as big as Elizabeth's head. It's amazing to see her size in perspective to something else.

Such a proud papa. B was able to feed Elizabeth a bottle yesterday. He hung out with her in NICU for about an hour, and she was awake for a lot of his visit.

Patience is not one of my virtues, and this situation is testing my patience. There's no amount of knitting in the world that can help me through this.

After Elizabeth's great progress on Tuesday, she hit a bit of a plateau yesterday. She's able to maintain her blood sugar levels, so she's off the IV. She's also able to maintain her body temperature while swaddled, so she's out of the big warming bed and in a regular nursery bassinet.

Eating is the last thing on Elizabeth's list that she needs to get figured out, and it's slow going. This morning she latched on but then just sat there for 10 minutes before falling asleep. She did the same thing with her bottle at lunchtime. They've put a tube down Elizabeth's nose so that they can feed her that way when she doesn't want to nurse or drink from the bottle. For Elizabeth to go home, they have to take the tube out of her nose and have her eat, either through nursing or the bottle, consistently. And there's no way to predict how long that will take.

I had been thinking she'd probably be home this weekend, based on the progress she's made so far, but when my doctor came in to check on me today, she said she was thinking it would be a week. It was all I could do not to burst into tears at that point, especially given how much Elizabeth had struggled with eating this morning.

I'm feeling a bit better about it all now given Elizabeth's last feeding. She nursed like a rock star for 20 minutes, doing a good enough job that the nurse didn't even try to give her a supplemental bottle.

We still don't have any word on when she'll be going home, and at this point we don't even know if I'm going home today. My doctor is going to try to get some information on Elizabeth's status. If it's possible for her to go home in a day or two, my doctor is going to try to make arrangements for me to stay here for another day. As much as I want to go home and sleep in my own bed and see my kids, I don't want to leave Elizabeth here.

B is on his way home now to get the kids. He's going to bring them up for a visit. If I can go home today, we'll all go home together. If I can't, I'll at least have a good visit with the kids. I've been worried that Campbell is going to forget who I am.

So I'm sitting here, practicing my patience and trying to stay positive.

What a difference a day makes

Yesterday morning Elizabeth was still breathing with the help of the cpap and being fed through a tube down her throat. Yesterday afternoon they took off the cpap and put her on a canula, which Elizabeth kept pulling out of her nose and putting in her mouth to suck on. By the end of the day the doc took off the canula, and Elizabeth has been breathing on her own, without assistance, ever since.

I was able to give Elizabeth her first bottle yesterday at lunch time, and she powered through it in about 30 seconds. Since she did such a good job with her second bottle, the nurse took the tube out of her throat.

This morning I went in for Elizabeth's early feeding, and I was able to nurse her. She latched on without a problem and nursed for 20 minutes - such a little rock star! She was also holding her own body tempertature, so they turned off the heat bed and swaddled her.

I tried to nurse Elizabeth at lunchtime, but she wasn't interested. The nurse thinks Elizabeth wore herself out this morning and was too tired to nurse. So she got a bottle instead, which is just fine with me. I just want her to eat, eat, eat!

Elizabeth is hitting all of the marks she needs to - she's eating by mouth, breathing on her own, and maintaining her body temperature. The next big step is for her to glucose levels to stay where they need to be without the help of an IV.

The doctors still won't give us an estimate on when we'll be able to take Elizabeth home, but if things continue, it will be sooner rather than later.

****

Also, a huge thank you to everyone who has commented and e-mailed. Your messages of support and encouragement mean a great deal to me and B. I've been especially encouraged by all the stories of preemies who are now thriving. Hearing the success stories has been tremendously reassuring.

And now, some pictures from yesterday morning. I'll try to get some more today with a better camera.

The story of Elizabeth

It's pretty interesting that I wrote Sunday's post just hours before Elizabeth was born. My brain was aware of what was going on, even if "I" wasn't.

I woke up Sunday morning feeling off and having sporadic contractions. I didn't think much of it at the time, given that I'd had a similar day when I was pregnant with Campbell. I had called in on that day, and the nurse had said to lie down and see what happened. The contractions went away over night, so I figured that the same thing would probably happen this time.

I figured wrong. By about 7:00 pm I was having contractions pretty regularly, and it didn't matter whether I was lying down, sitting up or walking around. So I called in and was told to get the hospital asap. When we arrived, they put me on monitors and observed me for an hour. By the end of the hour, my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, and the doctor ordered an operating room.

They popped Elizabeth out at 10:38 pm, and showed her to me quickly before whisking her off to NICU. B was able to go with her to NICU. He re-joined me in the recovery room. Once I finished in recovery, the nurse wheeled me in to NICU so I could see and touch Elizabeth.

Basically, she's able to breathe on her own, but she has to work really, really hard to keep her lungs inflated. They have her on a cpap - a little mask that goes over her nose - that puffs air into her lungs to keep them inflated so that she can breathe without having to work so hard. She spent a while on pure oxygen, but now she's just on regular room air (I think it's funny that the medical term is "room air").

Last night they started giving her milk that I've been pumping. They feed her through a tube down her throat into her tummy. I went to visit her in time to watch a feeding last night, and when she was finished I was able to hold her for the first time. It did me a world of good to hold her. It has been incredibly difficult to not have her with me. I've spent a lot of time crying about it over the past two days.

The hospital allows siblings into NICU, provided they have their shot records with them and they are fever free. B brought the girls up yesterday afternoon and took them into NICU one at a time. Neither said much after her visit, but I think it was overwhelming for them. I know it is for me.

We still don't when Elizabeth will be able to go home. There's a list of things she has to be able to do first, and she's not quite there yet.

As for the name - Elizabeth is the only girl name that B and I could both agree on. Anne is my middle name, and it was my grandmother's middle name, except she didn't have an e. Nona passed away in March, the same week I found out I was pregnant, which was incredibly hard. So B and I picked Anne to honor Elizabeth's great-grandmother.

Thanks for all of your well wishes and words of support. I'll post updates as I have them.

Miss Elizabeth Anne Gardner Has Arrived!

This is a guest post by knittergran, grandmother of hokgardner's new daughter!

Elizabeth Anne was born at 10:38 last night (Sunday evening), and weighs four pounds, fifteen ounces.
(Eat, girl, eat!)

Yes, she was four weeks early, but hokgardner went into hard labor and the doctor said there was a reason for that and that it was time for Elizabeth to meet everyone.
hokgardner is doing fine, considering, but wants MORE DRUGS please, and Elizabeth (isn't that just the loveliest name!) is now breathing regular air rather than air with oxygen added. She needs to meet three requirements in order to come home:

1. Breathe completely on her own.
2. Eat via her mouth rather than through a tube.
3. Maintain her own body temperature.

She is currently in NICU, but not in an incubator, so that's a good sign, and she's well enough that her big sisters are visiting her this afternoon. They have to scrub up in order to meet her, and I'm sure the solemnity of all of that will quite impress them. Lily, in fact, announced no fewer than four times at breakfast that SHE had wished for a girl and that's what they have gotten.

The new mother of four will be back blogging soon, I'm sure, but wanted you all to know about the newest Gardner! Pictures to follow....

Confinement

Back in the olden days - this encompasses everything from the era of Henry VIII to the Victorian era - women who were pregnant had a period of confinement, or lying in, prior to the birth of a child. The length of time varied according to the era and its traditions, but it always involved the woman's being confined to the house, sometimes to a special room, to rest and read and make things for the baby. Of course, this tradition was limited to women who were wealthy enough to have staff and servants to keep the house running.

Right now, I'm thinking I'd like that tradition to make a come back. I am feeling lousy these days. There's nothing really wrong with me; I'm just 35 weeks' pregnant and I'm worn out and feeling a bit blue. I'd like nothing more to hide away in my room for the next four weeks and sleep and read and knit and sleep some more.

But alas, that can't be. We don't have staff, and as I found out a few weeks ago when I was sick in bed for two days, the house kind of falls apart without me. I have three kids and a husband (who is very helpful, really) to look after. There's carpooling and work projects and laundry and groceries. Plus there are the extra things I want to get done in the house, like cleaning out my closet and reorganizing the pantry and pulling out the kids' fall-ish clothes.

Since I can't confine myself to my room for four weeks, I'll sneak bits of rest when I can. But it's going to be a long four weeks.

Hangers

A while back, my good friend S told us a funny story during one of our long, dark, early morning runs, and today I couldn't help but think of it and laugh.

S had cleaned out her closet and rounded up all the dry cleaning hangers she could find and put them in the trash, knowing that the recycling truck wouldn't pick them up. Her husband, D, found the hangers in the trash and fished them all out. D carefully bundled them up with twine and took them to their dry cleaners. He asked if they recycled hangers, and they said they did. So he unloaded all the hangers and went back to his car feeling very good about things. To leave this particular dry cleaner's parking lot, you have to drive around the back of the building, where the dumpsters reside. D drove around back just in time to see the employee who had assured him that they recycled hangers toss D's entire load into the dumpster. He was so deflated. Every time I drive by that particular dry cleaner's I think of D and his hangers and laugh.

Why do I bring this up? This morning, I took about 200 hangers to our dry cleaners. It took me half an hour to bundle them on to string while Campbell merrily destroyed my closet and bathroom. All my careful work went out the window when I picked up the bundles to take them to the car. I ended up with this mess.

When I dropped off B's clothes at our dry cleaners, I asked if they recycled hangers and was assured they did. I was relieved to not see the dry cleaning guy carrying them out to the dumpster as I left. And I was even more relieved to have them out of my closet.

The necklace of fate

Two years ago, just before Christmas, I found a necklace I loved in a catalog. I circled the necklace and left the catalog on B's desk with a note saying, "This is what I want for Christmas." The necklace had a silver pea pod with tiny seed pearls in it, the idea being that you get one pearl for each child. I thought it was a sweet way to signify my three kids.

Christmas morning arrived, and I opened my gift from B to find this necklace -

You'll notice that it has four pearls, not three. Apparently, B didn't read the description of the necklace and missed the whole point of it. B, being B, ordered the one with four, "because it was the best." I laughed it off on Christmas morning, but I was a bit annoyed. I mean, how much easier could I have made buying my present for him? The store even wrapped the gift.

So I didn't wear the necklace very often, and when I did, I said that the four pearls represented the kids and my husband, who sometimes qualifies as another child.

Then, just over a year later, I found out I was pregnant with number 4. My good friend L claims that this baby is really all B's fault (obvious biology aside) because he gave me the necklace with four pearls in it. He was just tempting fate.

When I remember to accessorize, I wear the necklace. The first time I wore it after getting pregnant, B noticed I had it on and asked, "Am I not in trouble any more?" I told him he wasn't in trouble for the necklace, but he was still on the hook for the whole unexpected pregnancy thing.

I'm just grateful the catalog didn't have the option to order 5 peas - I'd be having twins.

Baby clothes

So it turns out that when you're 35 weeks' pregnant with your fourth child and you think you're past getting excited about baby gear, you can still get all mushy over tiny baby clothes.

My mom, otherwise known as knittergran, went a little nuts at the store the other day and bought a bunch of baby clothes for Baby Bee. The box arrived Monday, and I sat on the floor oohing and aaahing over all of it. There's a particularly sweet little fuzzy jacket with ears on the hood that sent me into raptures. B watched me unpack the box and rolled his eyes the whole time.

The girls were just as excited about the box of stuff. They spent quite a while looking everything over and exclaiming about how tiny it all is. Even though they both remember when Campbell was born, they don't have any recollection of just how tiny he was as a new baby. They're going to be pretty surprised when the finally see Baby Bee.

Speaking of seeing Baby Bee, I get to have another ultrasound in two weeks. I'm measuring small, so the doctor wants to take a peek. On the one hand, it will be nice to see the baby. On the other, our stupid #()*@(*# insurance doesn't cover ultrasounds, so I know I'll be coughing up a big chunk of change for the chance to see the baby.