Sunday, June 05, 2005

Deja Vu

I'm sorry I've been away. I've had you all on my mind, but I haven't figured out yet how to effectively blog and take care of baby. Just this week we had an appointment with the surgeon (post-op, looking good), pediatrician (three shots!), and a home visit from a dietician on behalf of a grant for 'medically vulnerable' children, specifically from the NICU. Add in the class I had yesterday, Janie's graduation from preschool into kindergarten, and Matt working overtime and Pazel has not had a minute of rest.

Jack is doing well. At nearly 9 weeks, he's almost 13 lbs. I think in weight and height he's in the 75th percentile, but in head he's in 50th. This is amazing to me. His head is normal size! I come from a family of pumpkin heads. Janie has a huge noggin. Her stats as a baby were always above the charts in everything including head. I say that Jack's normal head is absolute proof that he takes after Matt more than Janie did. His normal head, his widow's peak hairline, and his personality.

Jack cries a lot. Sometimes it is for good reason. He hates the taste of his medicine, especially when he's asleep and is woken up by the taste of it. He makes these tiny whiny tired begging cries that just kill me. That's about the time that I start cussing about how much I hate doing it and it's not fair to him and how sorry I am. Jack also cries when he's naked. There's a lot of babies who hate being uncovered, but I think they pretty much have gotten over it by this age. I swear he remembers being held down for all those blood samples and IVs in the hospital. He screams at the doctor's office every time, as soon as I get him naked on that paper sheet. I try to bundle him up with the blanket but it's no use. He knows and it's a loud, angry, indignant cry.

Janie tries to help with Jack. Sometimes that involved putting in the pacifier or getting his blanket. Othertimes she shakes his swing or puts her hands on his face and talks to him, "oh baby baby baby jackie. there you go, there you go, oh baby baby." I have to admit that sometimes it bugs me. I'm holding Jack and she comes up and starts messing with him and I'm short on sleep and just got him to stop crying and start falling asleep and I just want to growl and snap. I'm embarrassed by it. She's just trying to play with him. Sometimes it takes every bit of energy just to tell her 'not now' instead of yelling it. She's been going through a big adjustment with having a new brother, she's just trying to find her place. And here I am, always dictating the terms, usually for my own convenience.

Yesterday as I drove to my summer class I passed over the bridge, I couldn't help but think of when I drove over the bridge the day of the IVF transfer. On the bridge I had gotten the call that the embryos were almost all poor quality so we were going to do the transfer that day afterall. Matt wasn't with me because we had thought we'd make it to the 5th day. And we had also assumed that out of our 21 eggs we'd end up with plenty of quality embryos to use and to freeze. It was a new sock in the face.

As I drove over the bridge yesterday, it was all there again. I didn't cry or anything because I know now that the story ends well, but I kind of shivered remembering. Post traumatic stress? Is there a lighter version?

I've had the feeling before. There's a tall woman who works in surgery and whose job it is to locate the baby who's about to go into surgery and inform the baby's nurse to get him/her ready to go. She would come in wearing her surgery scrubs, one gown flowing like almost a cape, an Oakland A's surgery cap, and always a dead serious expression. On three different occasions she came in and scouted out Jack for his 3 different surgeries. When I was at the hospital this week to see the surgeon, I passed her in the hall. She was walking straight towards me and I swear I held Jack tighter to me. It's like seeing the grim reaper walking the halls. She probably has no idea what the sight of her does to me. Those serious dark eyes, searching for the next baby to go. A shiver.

Someone is crying. I've got to run. Thank you all for the work advice. I think I'll take your advice and ask about starting part time earlier.

Also, I forgot something possibly important. Matt finally returned a call to one of his old Army buddies. He had been calling to ask about the birth and Matt had been procrastinating talking to him because he didn't want to go through the whole long story. Anyway, he did return the call and did go through the long story. His Army buddy brought something up that didn't even occur to us. He said that guys who had served during the first Persian Gulf war came home and had a higher incidence babies with unusual or rare birth defects. Could this be the case with Jack?

I had thought that Hirschsprung's was genetic, but I guess it hasn't been proven. My brother (MD) said this as well as the dietician during the home visit. I would rather it be genetic so that there would be no chance that I could have caused this during the pregnancy. I hadn't even thought about the Gulf War Syndrome stuff. I guess cause doesn't matter since what's done is done, but on the other hand it is much easier to cope knowing it is something genetic that couldn't be helped rather than something that someone or something caused. Know what I mean?

(Jack has EATs which are ectopic arterial t.... I can't think of it while he's crying. They're a type of SVT. SVT's is the general category and EAT is different because of the location of the heart where it is originating. Jack is on two meds, digoxin to regulate his heart and interol which is a beta blocker and slows his heart rate. The danger is highest from the high rate than from the irregularity but neither are good and he gets them both together. I hope this helps your friend.)


Blogger obabe said...

Thinking of you often - I can't seem to find the words right now, though. (21 month old boy + 19 weeks preg = very tired mom on a Sunday night!) Hope your days get brighter as they pass.


7:19 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

When my little guy was crying from the Zantac, which tastes so very nasty, I asked the pharmacist for some advice. She then sold me a bottle of cherry syrup that they use to mix with meds, and we mixed it ourselves. It worked much better than juice or anything else we tried hiding it in. Just a thought...

So glad to hear you are coping so well. You're doing a great job with both kids. Jill

6:45 AM  

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