Category Archives: Hospital

November 11, 2010

One Family’s Story

So many people have babies born too soon. When Jon and I began our experience as “preemie parents,” I was amazed at how many stories we began hearing. It seemed almost everyone we knew had been touched by an early birth.

I vividly remember the NICU walk every day as we went to visit the muppets.

Now, Pampers has launched “Love Comes Early,” an 8-episode Web series that follows one family as they navigate life in their local NICU and fight to nurse their daughter Addyson, born fifteen weeks premature, to health.

I watched this and it seemed all too familiar. But in honor of Prematurity Awareness Month, I wanted to share since it seems a great way to show you what it’s like – for any parent going through this. Our stories are all different, but all too similar.

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November 6, 2010

Cold and Flu Season

It’s the 2010 cold/flu season. And the muppets are now the recipients of a 2010 cold.

This is their first illness (other than “tiny”). So naturally, I panicked. Jon called the advice nurse to ask if we should bring them in to see the doctor.

“Do they have a fever?” No.
“Have they stopped eating?” No.
“Is there green goo coming out of any orifice?” No.
“Is he vomiting?” Other than the standard projectile spit-up, no.

I think I could hear the advice nurse rolling her eyes at us. She told us that the muppets have a cold; watch them. Surprisingly, this made sense to me. For some reason, I always assumed that very sick children come with a fever. Instead, Destroy got wheezy.

Grandma Nancy came to visit on Friday. Destroy grinned, coughed and wheezed hello. “Oooh, I don’t like the sound of that,” she commented. That was all it took – Jon immediately made an appointment for that afternoon. He called me at work to let me know of the change of plans.

In a previous life, I likely would have quietly approached my boss and inquire if it would be okay if I left a little early so I could go to the doctor. But now it was about my boys. Mommyhood engulfed me. “I’m leaving to take my muppets to the doctor,” I informed my boss. Sick muppets do not qualify for a debate. (Although, to be fair, this was already a Friday afternoon and I have 24/7 access to work from any location.)

The doctor looked at Destroy’s breathing and said “I can’t let him leave here looking like that.” My eyes widened and my stomach began to sink. I wanted no part of staying in the hospital and there was no way I was going to be able to leave my little man there again. His pulse ox (oxygen saturation level) was 94 and he was experiencing heavy retractions – where the skin pulls tight around each rib on the chest as the child works to breathe.

The day the muppets graduated from the NICU, their pulse ox was 94 – and we were doing a happy dance it was finally so high. But 94 is apparently a bad low number now that they’re big boys.

The doctor decided to try treating him with albuterol, a bronchodilator that helps open up the airways in your lungs to make it easier to breathe. It’s normally used as an asthma treatment, but also works for tiny developing lungs. The medication works by creating a steam that is inhaled through an oxygen face mask.

Destroy wasn’t thrilled with the concept, but he didn’t fight it too hard. And amazingly, he responded phenomenally to the treatment. The doctor even later admitted that she didn’t think we’d be going home that night…

So we were given a crash course on how to work a nebulizer and sent home. Yay! Turns out the biggest complication was when Jon got locked in the pharmacy. (They shut all the large fire doors at closing. I was beginning to wonder if we’d end up spending the night for a completely unforeseen issue.)

This morning, after a wake-up nebulizing albuterol experience, we went trooping back to the doctor for a follow up. Both muppets were getting checked since, even with my limited medical training, I’m pretty sure they have the same virus.

Destroy’s pulse ox was 100. Search’s read low, 96. But the medical assistant looked at him and decided he looked far too healthy to have only a 96 percent saturation level. After a repeat measurement, Search was 99 percent saturated. I then came to the conclusion that yesterday’s technician got the wrong result.

Today’s doctor confirmed – they have a cold. She also thought Destroy responded really well to the albuterol and said, in the grand scheme of sick babies, this is relatively mild. (They still have not experienced a fever and continue to eat like gangbusters.) We can expect the wheezing and coughing to last about one to two weeks – similar to when you or I get a cold and then can’t shake the blasted cough for 7-14 days after we feel better.

In addition to albuterol, this weekend’s prescription involves a significant amount of snuggling. Despite feeling icky, both muppets have maintained their awesomely adorable happy baby demeanor. They just require a lot more holding. They’ve slept a tremendous amount for the past couple days; I am encouraging this because I know that’s what I enjoy doing when I’m sick. But the second I try to put them down, their little snuggle meter blares to life.

“HOLD ME! I NEED TO BE HELD. I DO NOT FEEL GOOD!!!” As soon as I pick them up, I am rewarded with a coo.

Apologies if I appear a bit skittish for the next one to two weeks. Babies get sick. Colds are to be expected (especially during the cold and flu season). But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I plan to remain on high alert in Mama Bear mode until the muppets are all better.

One final Public Service Announcement: If you are sick, stay home. Keep your cooties to yourself. The muppets don’t want them.

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November 1, 2010

Put the NICU Nurses Out of a Job

As part of a campaign to generate awareness about the crisis of premature birth in our country, the March of Dimes designated November as Prematurity Awareness Month. Premature birth is the leading cause of newborn death worldwide. And the rate of premature birth has risen by 30 percent since 1981.

“We need to fight for our little ones so they don’t have to.”

Every year, 1 in 8 babies are born prematurely – that’s more than 543,000 children. This year, that number includes my twin boys. Compared with one baby, twins (or other higher order multiples) in California were about six times as likely to be preterm in 2007. A traditional pregnancy lasts for 40 weeks; full term is considered at 37 weeks. My muppets arrived in the middle of their 27th week – 12 weeks early.

I don’t call them my million dollar miracle muppets just for fun. Care for preemies costs more than $26 billion a year – 10 times greater than the average expense of a full-term newborn. The costs break down as follows:

  • $16.9 billion (65 percent) for medical care
  • $1.9 billion (7 percent) for maternal delivery
  • $611 million (2 percent) for early intervention services
  • $1.1. billion (4 percent) for special education services
  • $5.7 billion (22 percent) for lost household and labor market productivity

(These estimates come from Preterm Birth: Causes, Consequences and Prevention, a 2006 report published by the Institute of Medicine and funded in part by the March of Dimes.)

Having a child draws out a wide range of emotions in any case. I remember lying in my hospital bed, watching nervous and excited moms rush into the Labor and Delivery unit. Inevitably, I’d hear the mom or dad gleefully shouting that they were about to meet their new family member. I’d always envisioned that same scenario for my family. Instead, I was wheeled into the OR sobbing, clutching a nurses hand as I chanted “chubby babies, chubby babies.”

Born three months premature, my sons were a tiny two pounds. But from the very beginning they were perfect in all the littlest ways. They each had a distinct personality and a desire to make their preferences known to the world. I am a mother, a mommy to two precious twin boys. My husband and I are parents. But they were not yet really ours. You meet your children and you would do anything for them – then you are faced with the guilt of not having provided enough to keep them out of harm’s way.

I learned so much during the 10 weeks my boys were residents of the NICU. They had the most amazing nurses, who patiently explained everything to my husband and me and cared for the muppets as though they were their own children in the hours we couldn’t be with them in the hospital. Those nurses became family.

Today

My muppets are doing great. They’re great big boys (at five months old) and spend their days smiling and giggling. With each passing day, the NICU becomes more of a distant memory. But for all the families currently going through that experience, I hope someday the NICU nurses are all out of work because they are no longer needed.

November is Prematurity Awareness Month. Chances are somebody you know has experienced the roller coaster of emotions a baby born too soon brings. – it’s far more common than we like to think.

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October 7, 2010

Eye Sore

Destroy has brown eyes. Search has not yet decided – his eyes average a dark grey color, swinging back and forth between bluish or brownish depending on what outfit he is currently stylin’. Both boys have adorable expressions (see The Look/You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile) and are slowly starting to check out more of the world around them.

These poor muppets have endured far more than their fair share of poking and prodding in their four months. (Today was Destroy’s final retinal doctors appointment. Search finished this process last month.) But I am pleased to announce both muppets are officially RoP free.

Retinopathy of prematurity (RoP) is an eye disease that affects preemies. It results from a rapid and chaotic growth of blood vessels behind the retina. Term babies complete their physiological development in a low-oxygen environment; retinal blood vessels freak out when they hit the high-oxygen atmosphere of the world.

Virtually all kiddos considered “extremely premature” experience some level of the disease. It can be mild and simply resolve of its own accord or, in more serious cases, cause blindness. I remember speaking with Nurse Jennifer about RoP for the first time, before their first eye exam. A pediatric retinal specialist would examine them every two weeks as needed. Their little eyes would be propped open with a wire so the doctor could shine a light inside.

Their first eye exam was the first time I heard them scream.

Thankfully, the muppets were diagnosed with only a mild form of Stage 1 RoP – the closest to all clear they could be. But they had to return for exams monthly after NICU graduation until the RoP was completely gone.

This morning, while I was busy educating the world on the technical glories of Silicon Valley, Jon packed up the muppets and trooped over to hospital. Nurses, patients and visitors alike were apparently awestruck to see Dad alone with twins. “Where’s Mom?” a nurse asked, incredulously. I wonder if she would have been so surprised to see me there without Dad.

As my three boys sat in the office waiting for Destroy’s eyes to dilate, Search decided he was hungry. Since Jon was holding Destroy, Search elevated his hunger situation to meltdown levels. As Jon riffled through the Petunia Pickle Bottom diaper bag looking for a pluggie, Search proceeded to shove his entire fist in his mouth – self-soothing and audibly sucking so no one around could possibly forget his predicament. Personally, I was pretty impressed with the hand-to-mouth coordination.

Finally, the pediatric retinal specialist decreed that so little RoP remained – leaving approximately a 0 percent chance of resulting issues. Yay! Destroy does not have to go back. (The doctor is used to examining preemies. Pudgy Destroy is getting too big and squirmy for the doctor.)

The muppets have surpassed yet another trial set in their path to big, strong, smart, healthy baby boys. Sight-wise, vision problems will not be related to prematurity – it’s all up to genetics at this point.

Sorry boys – glasses are definitely in your future…

 

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September 28, 2010

A Stitch and a Prayer

Today marks four months with the muppets. And even though they’ve only been home for half that time, it’s already hard to imagine life without them.

The other day we received a box. Surprisingly, it wasn’t from diapers.com. Inside were two beautifully knitted baby blankets.

The card noted that the blankets began coming to life this past April – when I was first admitted to the hospital at 22 weeks. And with each stitch, came a prayer that the muppets would come home smart, strong, healthy boys.

As we unfolded the cozy completed blankets, they were a wonderful representation of all the thoughts and prayers directed toward the muppets during what can only be thought of as a very stressful entrance to the world.

One always has a general idea of what the completed craft will look like at the start. But there’s always the danger of a dropped stitch – sometimes what you find the finished project to be isn’t what you initially imagined, but you may just find yourself amazed at what you accomplished.

The blankets are beautiful. And much enjoyed by their little recipients. Thank you.

Thank you to everyone for helping us get the muppets home.

And with that, I must sign off. Muppets are screaming. They’re on a quest to keep getting bigger by the day.

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September 25, 2010

Don’t Be Fooled by My Size

Most people who meet the muppets coo in amazement at what tiny babies they are. But don’t let that fool you. We now have jumbo babies.

Today was the NICU Preemie Party. The hospital holds an annual event – inviting all the graduates back for a reunion. Parents get to come and show off their quickly growing offspring, nurses get to see how well their charges are progressing and hundreds of kids get to run amuck at a large-scale play date. I was very excited to bring our own 2010 graduates.

We spent the morning gathering all our gear, then loaded everything into our massive stroller and went trooping down the street to the park. I wasn’t sure where the gathering was going to be, or even how big I should expect it, so the three of us took the long route around the park and weaved our way passed various crowds trying to see if we recognized anyone. I began to notice a higher than average number of double strollers passing me – headed in the direction of the park arbor picnic area. My Encyclopedia Brown powers of deductive reasoning inspired me to follow the three sets of twins and one family of quads.

It was kind of fun to be around so many families of multiples. Even in this era of Kate Plus Eight and Octomom, people still seemed to be fascinated by twins. “Oh my goodness! Twins?! Are they natural?” (And of course, there was the one person who observed our stroller last weekend and inquired, “Are there babies in there?”) But today, nobody gave a second look at twins. All conversations were around ages. How old were they when they were born and how old were they now.

On the other side of the colorful kids play area, bouncy houses rose before us like the fabled Emerald City of Oz. Multitudes of little ones were running toward the gathering, screaming with pure joy. From all sides, nurses were gasping with incredulity at how big all the kids were. (“Is he going into kindergarten this year?!” “Well, no, he’s two…”) Once admitted, I made a circular round of the set-up, taking care not to take out any prior preemies with our beast of a stroller. (Everyone was very understanding. Most of them had equally large units of transportation.) There were booths with spin-art (remember that from the mid-80s!), face painting and a magician with a real-live bunny.

It was so wonderful to see so many big healthy kids running around. I’m sure it was absolutely fabulous for the nurses to see “their” kids. But even though I didn’t personally know the families, it was tremendously heartening to know that the preemie predicament was just a distant memory for the parents – and nary a thought for the little ones chasing each other around. Being graduates of only two months, the muppets were some of the youngest attendees. One ex-preemie was 23!

My favorite part was seeing our nurses in the “real-world.” Far, far away from the sterile hospital. Nurse June and Nurse Susan seemed very excited to see the boys. (And just because he loves them, Search made sure to be just as stinky for them as he was in the NICU.) It was observed that both muppets look the same – just a lot chunkier.

Seriously - no exams ok?

I wonder if Search and Destroy remember their nurses’ voices. Search definitely seemed a little concerned while Nurse June was holding him. Of course, that particular look may have just been the consternation that there was no more milk in his bottle. (Gone are the days of fighting to get them to take an ounce in an hour.) Destroy didn’t socialize all that much – “Can’t talk. Eating. Growing.”

We’ll definitely be back next year. But I’ll likely have less time to chat, since I’m guessing I may be chasing toddlers in 12 months time. So while we’re congratulating our 2010 NICU graduates, go ahead and save-the-date for sometime in June 2028 for their high school graduation.

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September 23, 2010

One Month (Adjusted)

So as you may glean from the previous post, things have been slightly hectic – thus preventing me from posting as much as I’d like. Fear not! I have several posts lined up for your enjoyment. Coming soon to a screen near you.

Until then, I’d like to take a quick moment to share that the muppets are one-month-old (adjusted) age today. Had they followed directions, they’d have a lot less milestones for me to write about. Their adjusted age is where we can expect them to fall in terms of growth and development. And they are progressing just as a one-month-old baby should be. (Slightly advanced, of course.)

How time flies, doesn’t it? One month today, four months next week.

The pictures don’t line up to the dates exactly, but they’re a good reminder of how far we’ve come.

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September 17, 2010

A Shot in the Dark

Today the muppets had their four-month check-up. I can’t believe it either. (Technically, they have another week before they’re actually four months, but it’s close enough to ooh and aww.)

I arrived shortly after Jon and the boys – just in time for the fun stuff. The muppets slope on the official pediatric growth chart is practically vertical. They’re even almost on the chart! Destroy is only a pound below the first percentile for weight.

So without further ado, <drum roll please> the official weigh-in comes in at:

Search
9 lbs, 2 oz
20.25 inches
15 inch head circumference

Destroy
10 lbs, 8 oz
20 inches
14.75 inch head circumference

Search’s got his brother beat on height/length and head circumference. But he still looks tiny next to Destroy. Destroy continues to live up to his nickname – Pudge.

In a much less exciting turn of events, following the statistical recording of vital signs, we rolled over to the pediatric injection clinic. The muppets were due for their next round of vaccinations. We waited in the small lobby area, watching four toddlers play – obviously unaware of what they were in for.

When it was the muppets turn, Search went first. He sat on Jon’s lap in the cramped exam room. The nurse didn’t waste any time – I guess it’s like ripping off the band-aid. Search got the first of three shots in his leg. It took him by surprise. His eyes widened in a brief moment of silence. Then he let out a heartbreaking wail. His little face turned cherry red as tears streamed down his pouting chipmunk cheeks. Even Jon and I had to turn away for the second two shots.

I got to hold Destroy. Now, to be fair, Destroy has a lot more padding on his tubby little thighs. Of course Destroy screamed as well. But his screams were far less panicked. Rather, he merely sounded hungry.

And the difference in those screams explains the reason for the large discrepancy in weight. At first, I thought it was just easier to identify the various needs expressed by Search’s distinct cries; perhaps Destroy was a bit more nuanced. Nope. I’m pretty sure they really are all hunger cries.

With his fondness for food and generally hungry demeanor, I’ve come to the conclusion that Destroy feels all that ails the world can be solved with a snack. Crisis in the Middle East? Sit them down for a glass of warm milk and a cuddle. Problem solved.

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September 2, 2010

Social Security

Social Security is a circus.

This fact was confirmed for me this afternoon. I returned to speak with Social Security for the third time. As I was waiting for my number to be called so I could give them their money back (yes, you read that correctly), I reflected on why this giant government program is in so much trouble.

It is my opinion that the bigger an enterprise gets, the less efficient it becomes. And Social Security may be the biggest of them all. I always thought I wouldn’t have to deal with this treasured government nugget until I was much older. Every so often, I get the little pamphlet telling me that I’d make approximately $7 a month if I retired now; I file them and go on with my life.

Then the muppets arrived. This was my first clue that this experience wouldn’t be simple.

Because they were born under 1,300 grams, they qualified for disability payments. If I may go off on a tangent for a moment – 1,300 grams is a totally random designation. Per their policy, a baby born at 2 pounds 13 ounces is disabled, while a baby weighing in at 2 pounds 14 ounces is just dandy. Reality check – babies of either size are going to spend a significant amount of time in the NICU.

Most babies arrive in a hospital and have their social security number the next day. Not my muppets. Because of their disability (born at 970 and 1,005 grams respectively), they were entitled to $201 per month to supplement their lost income. What income most newborns typically rake in, I do not know. We had to go down to our local Social Security office and meet with a representative to set up payments before they would assign the boys Social Security numbers. And not having a Social Security number is generally frowned upon – especially later in life (when they do actually have income).

We were told we would not receive any money for the first month. This is so Social Security can verify that the children remain disabled. Here’s a thought – if a baby is born premature, chances are they will remain prematurely born. They would receive a check each month (except the first) that they spent even a single day in the NICU.

However:

We were asked to call immediately when the boys come home so no overpayment occurred. Both boys were home by August 9. I alerted Social Security on August 10. On August 15, we received two additional checks. On August 17, we received letters saying we’d be receiving two additional checks. Nothing mentioned why we were getting this. I better call and clarify, I thought to myself.

Nope. This plan of action require there to be a working phone number for the local Social Security office. There is not. Down to the government office went I to wait in line. (Really it’s take a number and sit in a chair, but go with me here.) No one was really able to explain to me what these additional checks were for. But once we got everyone along the same general line of thought, they assured me everything was taken care of. But wait. Even though we gave notice about homecoming at the beginning of the month and went in to personally speak with representatives in the middle of the month, this was not enough time to halt the checks sent out for the month of September.

Our Social Security contact warned us about this. “Happens all the time. You’ll just want to save those checks and bring them back.” Well isn’t that just the picture of efficiency. Print the checks, pay for the postage, send out the money and then ask people to make time to bring it back to you. Let’s try that in reverse and see how well that works out…

That is how I found myself sitting in the Social Security office again this afternoon. I’d returned the checks and was sitting in a chair waiting for the window staffer to find someone authorized to print a receipt for me. (I felt it was well worth the extra time to stay firmly put until I had proof of receipt that I’d returned the checks.)

When I was initially called to the window, I explained the situation and presented the checks. The staffer asked me why I was returning money. I let her know that the boys were premature and had spent time living in the NICU. She asked if the boys had been in the hospital; when I answered affirmatively she said they were entitled to the money. I again explained that they were home now. She instead asked how old they were. After several circles like this, she accepted the checks and went in search of someone who could print a receipt.

Allegedly, everything is now clarified and straightened out. I give it 50/50 odds that the boys receive a check for October.

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September 1, 2010

Hi Ho, It’s Back to Work We Go

At 6 p.m. on April 20, I headed out of the office. I stopped by my boss’ desk to say goodnight and reminded her that I had a doctor’s appointment the following morning. I’d be in by 10 a.m. I assured her. And without a second thought, I moved on to a much more pertinent topic – asking her if we could quickly chat about the newspaper exclusive I’d secured that day. Business as usual.

Four months and 12 days later, I’m returning to the office for the first time after that fateful checkup with the doctor. It went a little longer than planned… Twenty pounds lighter and two kids heavier, tomorrow is my last day of maternity leave.

Hard at work...

It’s been quite the adventure. Most typical new mommys take just about the same length of leave as me. But I’d venture to guess that those mommys also spend approximately four months and 12 days bonding with their newborn. I will have spent 24 days home together with the muppets. (And I used to be shocked that my mom went back to work only two months after I greeted the world.)

My maternity leave breakdown is as follows:

  • 37 days on bedrest hoping to stay pregnant
  • 26 days hospitalized
  • 7 days panicking as we endured the preemie “honeymoon”
  • 30 days adjusting to life with babies in intensive care
  • 73 days spending 4-6 hours a day in the NICU
  • 24 days home with my muppets

82 percent of the aforementioned leave spent worried and without them. (Well, 100 percent of the time worried about the boys, but 82 percent so worried about how to get them home healthy.)

Originally, I wanted to work from home while I was bedridden. But my team of doctors said, “No.” They claimed work was too stressful. Right – because a job I liked was the part of this ordeal that was going to stress me out…

...and play.

Am I looking forward to going back to work? That’s a tough question. After so much time away, yes – I am very ready to go back. But I do wish I had more time with the boys. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t need more time, because I’d have spent all of my time bonding with my term newborn sons. C’est la vie.

For those of you calculating – yes, I am starting back up on a Friday.  I plan to spend some time reminding my team who I am and the vast majority of the day sorting through the thousands of emails awaiting my return. (This is not an exaggeration.)

I’ll miss them during the day. But I doubt they’ll miss me. 1) They’re newborns. 2) The lucky little muppets will be living the high life with Daddy Day Care.

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