Okay, alright. I know we have not written a post for such a long time. I am sorry for that. There have been plenty of melt-your-heart moments and little stories to share. True, we have been busy, that only makes sense. However, we also have not been writing because of a request that Rich has made of me that has proven to be rather difficult. Our conversation over a month ago went something like this:
Rich: Honey, you really need to write an entry about our hospital stay, TJs health and everything that happened.
Lisa: Ugh. That's so hard to do. I am so much more comfortable with writing the happy stories. It is going to be tough to relive those 13 days in the hospital. How can I capture the experience, the fear, the frustration? I'd rather not.
Rich: Okay, fine. Just know that I will not be writing in the blog until you share the hospital story.
End of discussion.
Rich has been true to his word. He has not written. I have not written. But now that more time has passed and I have been able to distance myself from TJs roller coaster second month and I know he has rebounded healthy as ever, I am ready to write.
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It all started the day he turned two months old. I know this well because it happened while I was taking his "two month" picture. TJ got sick. Throw-up sick. Like out-his-mouth-and-his-nose-sick. Scared me. Scared him. But after that little episode it was back to the daily routine. He seemed fine. And then it happened again. More vomit. Lots of it. This was far from spit up. Two days later, it was still going on. Poor guy. Okay, let's go to the doctor.
The doctor's visit was rather routine. No fever. No on-the-spot vomiting. Keep watching him. Might be a virus. Better for baby to stay home with mom and dad head down to North Carolina to pick up Sam from Seafarer. Great, thanks. Now mom is solo with her sick baby and missing our planned trip down south. Sigh.
Day three. The vomiting has stopped. YEA! However, it has been replaced by amazingly messy diarrhea. Ugh! This poor child. Nothing is staying down or in. He eats and then 30 minutes later it flushes right out of him. And what neon green, runny, nasty, poop! Today he slept all day. Go figure. I would too. He is definitely not doing well.
Day four. Went back to the doctor. Still no fever. TJ has lost weight. Doctor says try to keep him hydrated. TJ chugs a bottle of pedialite. Gosh, he is sooo hungry. But of course, none of that stays down either. We think he was just drinking it too fast. Hang in there. The virus will pass.
Day five. TJ is not sleeping. He is not happy. I am trying to keep him hydrated, but it is just not working. I have never done so much laundry in such a short period of time. Diapers can't hold it. Every time he poops it just goes everywhere. This was a very, very long day.
Rich and Samantha arrive home that night. Rich is frightened with how frail TJ looks. He has lost his color, his energy, and his spunk. He no longer cries. He just whimpers. We call the doctor at night and he asks us to come in on Sunday morning.
Day Six. I am exhausted. So when the doctor says that we are going to the hospital I do not put up much of a fuss. TJ has lost weight and is severely dehydrated. He is still pooping fluid. He is going to need an IV. My poor little baby is so sad. I feel so helpless and so ready for the hospital's care.
Two months and six days after TJs birth, we are right back to the same hospital with the same nurses. It was a weird feeling. Last time I was at the hospital I was a nervous but excited new mom. I had no idea what I was getting into. That day, I was still a nervous mom. More confident than before, but still very unsure about all that was going on. Why is he sick? How did he get this way? What can I do to help this little creature? I was not prepared to spend the night. But when the situation arises, you make the best of it. Rich brought a change of clothes and a toothbrush. Enough to get by for the night.
Of course that night ended up turning into four days. I was miserable. TJ had an IV in his little arm-- and what a challenge and a heart-break that was to put in! It was so hard to be cooped up in a little 10x12 foot room when you are used to taking a baby out on walks, or even to the next room. How on earth am I supposed to entertain a baby all day in one little hospital room? Sure, it was easy to rise to the occasion for one overnight, but I had to experience a whole attitude shift to be at the hospital for four days. Yes, I was very concerned for TJ. But at this point of the experience I was also very cognizant of how a hospital stay was a crimp on my maternity leave. I was lonely. I felt trapped.
Things looked up when the doctor said we were free to go home on August 15. TJ had rebounded. His color was back, his personality was emerging, and he looked healthy. His fluids had been replenished. But he was still passing this liquid green poop. The doctor said that the virus would shake itself in a matter of days. So off we went to our home. I was ecstatic. The first thing we were going to do when we got home was take a walk! It was time to reclaim my maternity leave. Or so I thought. . .
Day 11 marked a trip to the doctors so that he could monitor TJs recovery. Well, nothing had really changed. In fact, TJ was back to looking frail, ash, and sullen. He was not coping well off of the IV. He needed more attention. So, it was back to the hospital for us. What had happened? We thought TJ was better. Why does he seem to be going backwards again? Are we really going back?
At this point, I knew the hospital and the IV were the best thing for my little guy. On route, it was like a switch flipped on inside of me. I finally got it. I got this lesson of motherhood. TJ needed to be at the hospital and so did I. Gone were the selfish desires of wanting to be at home because it was more comfortable for me. Gone were the little pity parties I would throw for myself in my mind. Instead, a sense of relief entered me. They will help us at the hospital. I will use this stay to make darn sure that TJ gets all of the care that he needs from all the people that he possibly can. My goal changed from trying to get out of the hospital as quickly as we could to getting TJs health back on track.
The next few days were possibly one of the toughest stretches of my life. It was hard to watch my little baby boy deteriorate before my eyes. He was not getting better. He continued to lose weight. The doctors were dumbfounded. There were periods of time during the day that TJ would cry uncontrollably as if in serious pain. We would do our best to soothe him, but this little guy was not doing well and it showed. Finally, a nurse took a greater interest in all that was going on and told us that what we were seeing was a "failure to thrive" and we had to be more deliberate in feeding him and giving him the nourishment he needs. So with the doctor's approval, we took him off breast milk and attempted to give him a gentle formula.
I really think that at this second hospital stay, I learned how to be a mom. TJ and I bonded over the next six days that we stayed in our little room in the hospital. How could we not? The days went slow, but yet they also went fast. I learned what made him cry. I learned how he liked to be put to sleep. I learned how to swaddle the baby with IV tubes coming from every direction. I learned that there is nothing like relying on a good nursing staff to help you through the tough days and the tough nights. I learned how devoted my husband was to his family. I learned the meaning of family when my mother drove up from North Carolina to be with us and offer support and help. I was thankful that so many friends came by to lend their support. I was touched when our pastor came to visit and to offer his prayers.
The change that we decided upon was to seek additional medical attention up in Syracuse. The doctor suggested it himself. He said that we had really depleted the services available to us in Ithaca. Syracuse had some additional specialists and nurses that could administer special IVs that would be more effective. So in a matter of hours, TJ and I boarded the ambulance that was going to take us to Upstate Medical Hospital. Earlier that week, Rich and I wondered how they transported infants in ambulances. There are really no seats to use a car seat, so what do they do? Little did we know at that time that we would discover the answer during our own ride. The answer: strap the car seat on the stretcher. Fascinating.
The atmosphere at Upstate was significantly different than in Ithaca. First of all, the children and their families were pouring out of the rooms. It was crowded. There seemed to be children everywhere. There were kids in high chairs in the hallway. There were kids in metal cribs that looked more like cages. There were babies swaddled in their crib with music playing left totally unattended. There seemed to be no security system. Could I have just taken any child and run out without being noticed?
I quickly discovered there was going to be no private room for us. The days of private rooms and nurses waiting on us hand and foot were over. As we were getting settled in our corner of a semi private room, I went to change TJ's diaper. He did leak again. And yes, he leaked all over me, but this time, to my great surprise, what came out of him was no longer a neon green. What?! Could it be? Is the formula working? I was hopeful, but also very cautious in our new surroundings.
I must have been interviewed by 10 medical students and 3 doctors. . . of course the interviewed me at all different times. We were even a "teachable moment" on one of the medical student tours. "Ooohh, see this baby? He is severely dehydrated. See how is skin does not spring back? See how his eyes are sunken and his skin has a grayish tone to it?" After a quick show and tell they continued on their tour-- not even stopping to talk or to acknowledge me. Ummm, hello? That's great, we all know he is dehydrated and has lost a lot of weight. NOW FIX HIM! I remember being really furious at this point of the day.
Of course my mood did not get any better when the specialist who was assigned to TJ said that we were not to feed him for the rest of the night. I said to him point blankly, "You are going to starve my child? How is this going to help? Doesn't he need to gain weight?" We negotiated TJ's care and he did agree to pedialite should he wake up and cry. A small victory for a mom and her cub.
That night, I stayed around the corner at the Ronald McDonald House. As mentioned, the rooms were tight and was not really set up to have mothers sleep by their children's side. It's funny. When we went to the hospital for the first time, I was not that thrilled to feel trapped by TJ's side. I was really looking for a way to sleep at home--or at least not in the hospital and feel like a patient myself. Now, 10 days into our hospitalization, I was full of anxiety knowing that I could not be by TJ's side all night. Who was going to rock him? How long would they let him cry? My, how things change. I left the hospital that night at midnight after meeting the nurse that was assigned to him. The next day, I came back by 7 AM.
And what I came back to what such a surprise. TJ didn't look like his skinny old self. He was fat. Huh? Is this my child? What happened? Did you swap kids on me in the middle of the night? I was amazed. How could he turn around so quickly like this? It was wonderful. I remember calling Rich and my mother to tell them to hurry on up to Syracuse, I think we turned a corner. So starving my child worked? That and the fact that his IV fluid was a slightly different mixture of chemicals. My mood was starting to improve. I felt a sense of relief. Okay, I thought. Maybe this hospital is not so bad after all.
We ended up staying at Upstate for three days. TJ was on the mends, gaining weight, and accepting formula from a bottle. Of course the formula that the doctor prescribed to us was $50 a can. Yep, my boy has got expensive taste! Let's see if that follows him throughout life. The specialist declared my breast milk unfit, told me to stop nursing, and give him only formula. In fact our discharge papers said "breast milk allergy". This of course came with a whole lot of implied insecurities about how fit I was to be a mother. Did I do something wrong? Why is TJ allergic to me?
All of this mommy guilt stayed with me long after we left the hospital and took a long time to rectify. How could TJ develop an allergy to my breast milk if this is all he has been getting since his birth? Could I change my diet and make it all right for him? Maybe he just needs some time on this expensive formula until he heals himself. Now I was all the more determined to pump and return to breastfeeding my child. All because someone told me, "no." And yes, that is what eventually happened. Two weeks later, we reintroduced breast milk and TJ has been thriving and doing well. And now, I had a freezer stocked with breast milk for my return to work.
Eighteen days of illness. Thirteen days in the hospital. Three hospital visits. An obscene number of diapers (thank goodness the hospitals supplied those). And thankfully, at the end: one healthy child.
The atmosphere at Upstate was significantly different than in Ithaca. First of all, the children and their families were pouring out of the rooms. It was crowded. There seemed to be children everywhere. There were kids in high chairs in the hallway. There were kids in metal cribs that looked more like cages. There were babies swaddled in their crib with music playing left totally unattended. There seemed to be no security system. Could I have just taken any child and run out without being noticed?
I quickly discovered there was going to be no private room for us. The days of private rooms and nurses waiting on us hand and foot were over. As we were getting settled in our corner of a semi private room, I went to change TJ's diaper. He did leak again. And yes, he leaked all over me, but this time, to my great surprise, what came out of him was no longer a neon green. What?! Could it be? Is the formula working? I was hopeful, but also very cautious in our new surroundings.
I must have been interviewed by 10 medical students and 3 doctors. . . of course the interviewed me at all different times. We were even a "teachable moment" on one of the medical student tours. "Ooohh, see this baby? He is severely dehydrated. See how is skin does not spring back? See how his eyes are sunken and his skin has a grayish tone to it?" After a quick show and tell they continued on their tour-- not even stopping to talk or to acknowledge me. Ummm, hello? That's great, we all know he is dehydrated and has lost a lot of weight. NOW FIX HIM! I remember being really furious at this point of the day.
Of course my mood did not get any better when the specialist who was assigned to TJ said that we were not to feed him for the rest of the night. I said to him point blankly, "You are going to starve my child? How is this going to help? Doesn't he need to gain weight?" We negotiated TJ's care and he did agree to pedialite should he wake up and cry. A small victory for a mom and her cub.
That night, I stayed around the corner at the Ronald McDonald House. As mentioned, the rooms were tight and was not really set up to have mothers sleep by their children's side. It's funny. When we went to the hospital for the first time, I was not that thrilled to feel trapped by TJ's side. I was really looking for a way to sleep at home--or at least not in the hospital and feel like a patient myself. Now, 10 days into our hospitalization, I was full of anxiety knowing that I could not be by TJ's side all night. Who was going to rock him? How long would they let him cry? My, how things change. I left the hospital that night at midnight after meeting the nurse that was assigned to him. The next day, I came back by 7 AM.
And what I came back to what such a surprise. TJ didn't look like his skinny old self. He was fat. Huh? Is this my child? What happened? Did you swap kids on me in the middle of the night? I was amazed. How could he turn around so quickly like this? It was wonderful. I remember calling Rich and my mother to tell them to hurry on up to Syracuse, I think we turned a corner. So starving my child worked? That and the fact that his IV fluid was a slightly different mixture of chemicals. My mood was starting to improve. I felt a sense of relief. Okay, I thought. Maybe this hospital is not so bad after all.
We ended up staying at Upstate for three days. TJ was on the mends, gaining weight, and accepting formula from a bottle. Of course the formula that the doctor prescribed to us was $50 a can. Yep, my boy has got expensive taste! Let's see if that follows him throughout life. The specialist declared my breast milk unfit, told me to stop nursing, and give him only formula. In fact our discharge papers said "breast milk allergy". This of course came with a whole lot of implied insecurities about how fit I was to be a mother. Did I do something wrong? Why is TJ allergic to me?
All of this mommy guilt stayed with me long after we left the hospital and took a long time to rectify. How could TJ develop an allergy to my breast milk if this is all he has been getting since his birth? Could I change my diet and make it all right for him? Maybe he just needs some time on this expensive formula until he heals himself. Now I was all the more determined to pump and return to breastfeeding my child. All because someone told me, "no." And yes, that is what eventually happened. Two weeks later, we reintroduced breast milk and TJ has been thriving and doing well. And now, I had a freezer stocked with breast milk for my return to work.
Eighteen days of illness. Thirteen days in the hospital. Three hospital visits. An obscene number of diapers (thank goodness the hospitals supplied those). And thankfully, at the end: one healthy child.
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