Category Archives: Destroy

Shocking news – the muppets are still in the hospital. If you’ve ever stopped and wondered, “Hmm, I wonder how long it takes for preemie parents to reach extreme levels of frustration,” allow me to enlighten you. The answer is seven and a half weeks.

This week was a particularly difficult one for me. The boys are still doing very well. They’re growing and getting ready to come home via the slow and steady method. But they’re still swinging up and down with their oxygen saturation. This was the first potential week that we may have seen the boys homeward bound. Guess what isn’t happening?

To be fair, I never really thought they’d be home this week – I thought they’d be home next week. Ever since we learned double trouble was upon us, I’d expected to bring them home in late July. But I did expect that perhaps they’d be completely sans nasal cannula and holding a steady saturation level (of 97-100 percent).

No more photos...please!

I know 36 weeks is the average gestation for twins and next Tuesday is G.G and Uncle Paul’s birthday. I thought the twins arrival would be a great birthday gift. Obviously, that didn’t happen. So I thought the next best thing would be to bring them home. Such mental decrees led me to really picture this as their due date. Ultimately, we have always been told to expect them home by their due date (which is actually Aug. 23) but they will let us know when they are ready to blow that NICU popsicle stand.

The combination of unmet expectations, closing in on the two month mark and just how darned cute the muppets are getting led to a very frustrating moment for me. It was hard to take a step back and remind myself that even though their NICU residency seems like it’s been forever, and even though they’re four and a half big boys now, they’re still only 35 weeks – still tiny. I should still be pregnant for another month! (Good grief, I honestly cannot imagine still being pregnant.)

Search

This past weekend was an absolute circus in the NICU. As I mentioned, the unit was at capacity. It seemed like there was a new admittee every five minutes. Young preemies to full term babies were rolling into the unit ensconced in their Giraffe isolettes. Nurses running to and fro, yelling out alphabet soup: TPN, PCH, CBC, ABR, CPAP, CC, ROP, ML, EKG, NG, IV, PDA and – what the heck, we’re talking children here, – ABC, 123. Babies crying. Dinging – oh, the dinging – alarms screaming from every nook and cranny. Nurses tending to babies in multiple pods. The charge nurses wandering around asking who wanted to work doubles.

Destroy

Destroy and I were cuddling in a corner, observing the chaos. The one stat I kept noticing were how many of the babies had high steady sat levels. Today I asked Dr. Dong when the swings would stop. He just looked at me with a slightly pitying, slightly amused expression. “I don’t know…when they’re ready.” So much for my hopes that he’d suddenly peer at the boys and reply, “July 23. 1:32 p.m.” However, he did wryly note that yes, it will someday stop. He mentioned, “We’ve seen a lot of kids like this. It seems like the swinging will never stop and then suddenly it just does.”

Search and Destroy truly are our little miracles. And we’ve been really blessed that, despite all they’ve been put through, they’re healthy. (They’re still tiny, but they’re healthy.) They are coming home – it’s just a matter of when at this point. I’ve discovered the cure to my frustration is seeing one of the boys smile or coo. And a slightly calmer NICU helps as well. Homecoming is just a matter of weeks now. Then the boys can cause all other types of frustration for their parents.

Despite the occasionally frustrating situation we’ve found ourselves in, Jon and I are tremendously enjoying getting to know our boys. Their personalities are really starting to shine through. And double trouble is oh so very accurate.

Search “The Chubster” and Destroy “Chunky Monkey” are both doing well as they hit their seventh week of life.

When we first joined the NICU family we knew there would be ups and downs in their progress. At the time, I didn’t realize they meant that literally. In Pod B, the Stream boys are known as “The Swing Boys” and “The Dueling Desatters.”

Their oxygen saturation levels continue to bounce up and down. Sometimes we think it may just be to keep their nurses on their toes. The monitors track their heart rate, breathing rate and the aforementioned saturation levels – when levels fall below a set number, an alarm starts beeping. (We may have to find a recording of obnoxious beeping to soothe the boys once they come home.)

Time seems to stretch out as their corrected gestational age closes in on the point where they would no longer need an extended NICU stay. And since Search and Destroy are doing well, we are breathlessly awaiting the time when they come home. (Medical opinion is still placing bets on Search to precede his brother.)

Today, we saw what the light at the end of the tunnel looks like. M, the little girl across the pod, went home today. Born in March at a tiny two pounds, she proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was a fighter. On several occasions her mother reminded us to never lose hope – if her little girl could make it, so would ours. And no matter how far away the time seems, someday soon they’d all be home.

M would often sit near the boys crib, charting with the nurses. Sometimes she’d eat her bottle while our boys attempted the new technique of sucking and swallowing. Being the great flirts that they are, the nurses referred to her as the boys’ girlfriend. In that sense, we were sad to see her go. But in the grander scheme – we’re thrilled she’s gone. There will be plenty of older women in their lives…

Seeing our friend depart reminds me that our family is not too far off from being together. Search and Destroy have grown so much already. They’ve doubled their birth weight and are now a giant four pounds each.

This evening the doctor decided they were growing so well, that their calories have been decreased. (We want chubby babies, but the doctor is concerned about the potential for not-as-cute fat toddlers.) Although the boys are on a steady diet of mom’s milk, it’s mixed with human milk fortifier to fatten up babies. It also makes them constipated. So they spend a majority of their days trying to poop.

We’re hoping that the slow decrease of sludge will help relieve their tummies and as a consequence release pressure from their diaphragm, allowing them to maintain a steady oxygen saturation level. This will make for a very much less paranoid mommy.

As a start, Search was relieved of his nasal cannula today. He is no longer receiving any oxygen assistance; breathing is all up to him. So far, so good – here’s hoping he keeps it up! It’s amazing how much cuter he is without giant tubes in his nose.

Keep your eyes peeled – sometime, not too long from now – there should be a post that someone’s coming home.

I have completely lost track of the days. I could not tell you what day of the week it is today nor whether it’s been three days or 30 since the last update. Six and a half weeks into this adventure, the boys are 34 weeks corrected gestational age.

The routine remains exactly the same day in and day out. The routine remains exactly the same day in and day out. The routine remains exactly the same day in and day out.

We park the car in the second or third row of the parking lot. I take off my sunglasses to put on my eyeglasses when we hit the crosswalk leading past the complementary valet and into the Lawrence Hospital Entrance. We walk through the first set of automatic doors and head straight for the second set to our right – you don’t need to slow down, they’ll open right as you think you’re about to smash into them. I immediately prep for the blast of cold air conditioning that cools the hallway. We enter in front of Ambulatory Surgery, pass a set of restrooms and cross one of the hospital’s lobbies. Next to the gift shop are three elevators; we take whichever one arrives first up to the third floor. We then head toward the NICU’s lavender awning located to the right of the elevator bank.

We greet the receptionist with a smile and “hello.” She unlocks the door and we enter, stopping to wash our hands at the sink right on the left. After scrubbing with soap to the length of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star we wind our way past the first door with it’s sign reminding us to be quiet because there are “Babies Developing. Shhhh.” In front of a kiddie table, we pick up the phone and dial Pod B. When one of the nurses answers, we say, “Hi, it’s Jon and Tricia Stream. We’re here to see our boys. Can we come in?”

The door opens and we squirt a shot of antimicrobial gel onto our hands. We greet the nurses as we rub in the gel while heading to the second and third beds (now one pedi-crib) on the left of the pod. I put my purse under their crib and ask, “How are my little guys today?” The nurse tells us they’re doing well. Jon and I set about taking the boys temperature. Destroy screams bloody murder; Search makes grumpy faces. Then it’s time to change diapers. Wipes are located above the pod sink, where we dampen them with lukewarm water. Diapers are stored in each kids respective corner. As we pick up the muppets to feed them their bottle, I ask the nurse what their weight is.

Harumph

We’re all ready to come home. The nurses warned us when Search and Destroy first arrived that time would likely mess with our emotions in this precise manner – although time passed by so quickly at first, it will start slowing down interminably as we approach our homecoming date. We are currently looking at 2-3 weeks more – but at this point, it’s all up to the boys.

Search and Destroy seem equally ready to come home. In fact, they have overheard us speaking about the three big criteria and decided to let the nurses know they’re ready. Destroy has made it his personal mission to permanently remove his nasal cannula. My poor little guy currently has a large red welt on his cheek because of his vigorous removal methods. I assumed that ripping the tape off his face would make him cry. It did not – he just gave us all a sly grin. Every time we swaddle him, we’ll see his little hands sneak out of his wrap and covertly grip at his wires.

“Well you said we couldn’t come home until we were off our oxygen tubes.” Destroy was just speeding that process along.

Search knows he needs to be taking all his meals from a bottle. So when I told him how proud of him I was because he was such a good eater, he took it upon himself to take out his feeding tube. “Look Mom, all done!”

They’re just trying to help out the doctors. And slowly, but surely, they are making great strides. It just seems like forever right now. Today, Nurse Jennifer let us know that we’ll likely see a huge difference between week 34 and 35. And Nurse June think they’ll likely graduate in about two weeks. (And Nurse June doesn’t take any backtalk from the boys. They WILL progress under her care. Period.)

Each day our routine remains the same. I just need to remember to take a step back and remind myself that we weren’t even supposed to have met the munchkins yet. They’re still tiny babies – even if they are rapidly approaching merely “small” as opposed to tiny.

Search

Destroy