They tried extubating Ian today to start having him to do more of his breathing work and it went horribly. They had to put his tube back in. With this lack of progress it feels like he will be in the NICU until next Christmas. We just might do ALL of his first holidays in the hospital separated by gowns and gloves.
More entries coming soon. I haven't sat down long enough to write lately.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Hotman
So, Ian's new nickname is "Hotman" (like, how you would say Fireman, but with "hot" at the beginning of it). Hotman references how Ian becomes overheated easily. It could have something to do with the fact that he is now 10 lbs 2 oz, but he's been like that since he was born. He also is very fussy and gets "hot" with anyone changing his diaper, taking his temperature, giving him a bath, etc.
Doug and I got the name from the cartoon series Avatar: The Last Airbender during "The Headband" episode in which Aang and friends are in the Fire Nation and Aang is using the outdated phrase, "Flameo, Hotman" to greet people on the street.
The other day, Doug was talking about how he gets hot easily and said that he must be "Hotman, Sr." I think "Hotman" is going to stick.
Doug and I got the name from the cartoon series Avatar: The Last Airbender during "The Headband" episode in which Aang and friends are in the Fire Nation and Aang is using the outdated phrase, "Flameo, Hotman" to greet people on the street.
The other day, Doug was talking about how he gets hot easily and said that he must be "Hotman, Sr." I think "Hotman" is going to stick.
Is God telling me to quit breastfeeding?
Pumping milk exclusively has been the bain of my existence for the past seven weeks! I get away with only pumping 5 times a day, but it keeps me from getting the sleep I need. Pumping has dominated my days. It is a major daily chore for Doug, washing and sanitizing all 5 sets of my pump stuff daily. I am devoting much more energy to it than I would like to or even think is particularly healthy.
It's just kind of dominating our lives a bit more than nursing would if Ian were home. What sucks is that there doesn't seem to be an end to the around the clock pumping. The way things are shaping up, it is highly likely that Ian will never actually nurse at the breast. I could be pumping exclusively for 12 months! Remind me why I am doing this again?? I breastfed Nia for 13 months, and it was difficult, but AT LEAST I had the positive experience of bonding with her via nursing. It was very sweet.
What is the payoff here? Ian still has reflux despite the fact that he gets breast milk. I can't nurse him and maybe never will. My breasts HURT. I am still battling a nasty case of candida, despite the fact that I had a two week dose of "super" Diflucan. I am still pumping for two reasons: (1) I don't like to give up on things that I think are important (even if I can't really see or understand their importance in the moment) and (2) We seriously can't afford formula even if I was going to stop pumping.
Doug has been really supportive of whatever decision I make about continuing to provide breast milk for Ian. He hates seeing me hate it so much. Most of the time when I pump it hurts, so on days when it actually doesn't hurt I still do my little pumping "dance" where I stall and take forever to start the session and get it over with. I am presently stalling on a pump session that was supposed to begin at midnight because my breasts are very sore today. I don't know how much longer I can take this, especially with an absent son. I just resent all of this.
It's just kind of dominating our lives a bit more than nursing would if Ian were home. What sucks is that there doesn't seem to be an end to the around the clock pumping. The way things are shaping up, it is highly likely that Ian will never actually nurse at the breast. I could be pumping exclusively for 12 months! Remind me why I am doing this again?? I breastfed Nia for 13 months, and it was difficult, but AT LEAST I had the positive experience of bonding with her via nursing. It was very sweet.
What is the payoff here? Ian still has reflux despite the fact that he gets breast milk. I can't nurse him and maybe never will. My breasts HURT. I am still battling a nasty case of candida, despite the fact that I had a two week dose of "super" Diflucan. I am still pumping for two reasons: (1) I don't like to give up on things that I think are important (even if I can't really see or understand their importance in the moment) and (2) We seriously can't afford formula even if I was going to stop pumping.
Doug has been really supportive of whatever decision I make about continuing to provide breast milk for Ian. He hates seeing me hate it so much. Most of the time when I pump it hurts, so on days when it actually doesn't hurt I still do my little pumping "dance" where I stall and take forever to start the session and get it over with. I am presently stalling on a pump session that was supposed to begin at midnight because my breasts are very sore today. I don't know how much longer I can take this, especially with an absent son. I just resent all of this.
G tube
Tomorrow morning, Ian will have surgery to insert a gastrostomy tube (g tube) into his tummy so that we can ultimately feed him at home. His constant reflux continues to be a problem that would interfere with his breathing and nutrition. He will also be having a nissen procedure (google it if you want) done to hopefully reduce his reflux issues temporarily. This is not typically done on babies so young. Thankfully, both procedures are done laproscopically.
While I'm excited that there seems to be more of a timeline for when he's coming home, I grow more exhausted with this situation by the minute. The physicians are thinking that his reflux is a neurological issue. Daily I wonder just how many things are going to be hurled at us in regard to Ian and his health. No wonder so many people decide that one child is enough after safely making it through the process. I was a fool to think things would go so smoothly this time around.
One of the nurses made it seem like Doug and I were expected to be around for surgery tomorrow. However, we've given all of the consent, and any further consent can be done by phone if necessary. I just don't feel like there is anything we can do for Ian except pray (and his laundry). We can pray remotely. Otherwise, he is going to just be a drugged up baby, asleep and completely unaware of our presence post-op. It will do us no good to wait around in the hospital. It's not like it will give us a false sense of control.
I don't feel like I've truly been able to "see" him for the past few days. Over the weekend, he started getting fussy again. He stopped having comfortable oxygen saturation levels, so they put him back on the nasal cannula on the lowest setting. Additionally, they started him back on Ativan to sedate him... first every 12 hours, then up to every 8 hours. I didn't bother to ask today how often he was getting his dose.
He was asleep when we (Doug, Fluff, his godmother and I) visited tonight--asleep and tightly swaddled in a blanket I could see his face, calves and feet (as they were sticking out at the bottom of the blanket). I think he opened his eyes for a few minutes during yesterday's visit, but he was very much asleep today.
When he is asleep, I'm sure he doesn't know that I'm there. Maybe he is able to hear me at intervals, but why be there when I have so much other stuff going on, with having to pump milk every few hours and taking care of Fluff?
While I'm excited that there seems to be more of a timeline for when he's coming home, I grow more exhausted with this situation by the minute. The physicians are thinking that his reflux is a neurological issue. Daily I wonder just how many things are going to be hurled at us in regard to Ian and his health. No wonder so many people decide that one child is enough after safely making it through the process. I was a fool to think things would go so smoothly this time around.
One of the nurses made it seem like Doug and I were expected to be around for surgery tomorrow. However, we've given all of the consent, and any further consent can be done by phone if necessary. I just don't feel like there is anything we can do for Ian except pray (and his laundry). We can pray remotely. Otherwise, he is going to just be a drugged up baby, asleep and completely unaware of our presence post-op. It will do us no good to wait around in the hospital. It's not like it will give us a false sense of control.
I don't feel like I've truly been able to "see" him for the past few days. Over the weekend, he started getting fussy again. He stopped having comfortable oxygen saturation levels, so they put him back on the nasal cannula on the lowest setting. Additionally, they started him back on Ativan to sedate him... first every 12 hours, then up to every 8 hours. I didn't bother to ask today how often he was getting his dose.
He was asleep when we (Doug, Fluff, his godmother and I) visited tonight--asleep and tightly swaddled in a blanket I could see his face, calves and feet (as they were sticking out at the bottom of the blanket). I think he opened his eyes for a few minutes during yesterday's visit, but he was very much asleep today.
When he is asleep, I'm sure he doesn't know that I'm there. Maybe he is able to hear me at intervals, but why be there when I have so much other stuff going on, with having to pump milk every few hours and taking care of Fluff?
Monday, December 10, 2012
A word of advice
It's hard to know how to support someone whose child is in the NICU without ever having that experience yourself. Even then, people cope differently.
One important thing to remember when trying to be supportive is that it's not about you. As much as we want family and friends to know how Ian is doing, we don't owe anyone an update. Doug and I are picking and choosing who gets updates and pictures, etc.
I've found that it's easier to contact people who have always been a source of steady, unimposing support. Suggestions are tricky. The ones that have been the most comforting are the suggestions on how important it is that we care for ourselves. Please think carefully before making a suggestion that would add additional pressure to add to our current "life plate" or impose any undue guilt.
We will call or text when we feel up to it. Sometimes I just won't return a call. That's either because I forgot... Or I don't feel comfortable discussing our circumstances with a person. We may not visit Ian every day. I may not be the 12 hours daily NICU mom, but I will not feel guilty for it. I have to get rest and make sure Nia is still properly cared for. What kind of mom would I be if I kicked her to the curb? I want to hold Ian when I see him, but his sleep and development are more important right now. If he's asleep when I visit, I let him rest and watch him sleep.
Encouragement in the form of prayer, promised prayer, verbal hugs, saying "awwww" when I send a picture of Ian, taking the time to call or listen, commenting on or just saying you read my blog, declaring that God is a Healer, sharing revelations about Ian's future and health--these are all greatly appreciated and cherished interactions with family and friends during this time.
Please do not tell me how I should be coping or give me some under-inspired, lightweight nod towards biblical-ish ideal as to how I should be viewing our current circumstance. Prayer is really the best way we can be helped from afar.
Do not question whether or not our son is actually in the NICU. Don't tell me how to interact with the medical staff and to 'just let them do their jobs.' If I have questions, I will ask them. If something seems shaky, I will investigate and/or get a second opinion. You can't impose on me your way of being and interacting. I know enough to not make rash decisions or step in the way of my son's care, but I won't be left in the dark.
I have said all if this to say that there is a delicate balance here that needs to be respected. Some of my family and friends are especially skilled at striking this balance. They have been our best supporters.
Lastly, pretty please fight the urge to ask when he is coming home or how much longer he has. If I knew, I would have told already. Every time I am asked when he is coming home it's a sobering reminder that he isn't home.
One important thing to remember when trying to be supportive is that it's not about you. As much as we want family and friends to know how Ian is doing, we don't owe anyone an update. Doug and I are picking and choosing who gets updates and pictures, etc.
I've found that it's easier to contact people who have always been a source of steady, unimposing support. Suggestions are tricky. The ones that have been the most comforting are the suggestions on how important it is that we care for ourselves. Please think carefully before making a suggestion that would add additional pressure to add to our current "life plate" or impose any undue guilt.
We will call or text when we feel up to it. Sometimes I just won't return a call. That's either because I forgot... Or I don't feel comfortable discussing our circumstances with a person. We may not visit Ian every day. I may not be the 12 hours daily NICU mom, but I will not feel guilty for it. I have to get rest and make sure Nia is still properly cared for. What kind of mom would I be if I kicked her to the curb? I want to hold Ian when I see him, but his sleep and development are more important right now. If he's asleep when I visit, I let him rest and watch him sleep.
Encouragement in the form of prayer, promised prayer, verbal hugs, saying "awwww" when I send a picture of Ian, taking the time to call or listen, commenting on or just saying you read my blog, declaring that God is a Healer, sharing revelations about Ian's future and health--these are all greatly appreciated and cherished interactions with family and friends during this time.
Please do not tell me how I should be coping or give me some under-inspired, lightweight nod towards biblical-ish ideal as to how I should be viewing our current circumstance. Prayer is really the best way we can be helped from afar.
Do not question whether or not our son is actually in the NICU. Don't tell me how to interact with the medical staff and to 'just let them do their jobs.' If I have questions, I will ask them. If something seems shaky, I will investigate and/or get a second opinion. You can't impose on me your way of being and interacting. I know enough to not make rash decisions or step in the way of my son's care, but I won't be left in the dark.
I have said all if this to say that there is a delicate balance here that needs to be respected. Some of my family and friends are especially skilled at striking this balance. They have been our best supporters.
Lastly, pretty please fight the urge to ask when he is coming home or how much longer he has. If I knew, I would have told already. Every time I am asked when he is coming home it's a sobering reminder that he isn't home.
Raising Other
It's slowly occurring to me that my child is, well, different. I mean I have always been weird, but not necessarily different. "Different" has always been something that "happened" to other people, other families even.
I am/was supposed to have 2+ beautiful, perfect, healthy children... But here I am, and I am struggling to accept my son's otherness and induction into the larger community of families who have children that are different.
Perhaps what hurts me the most is now that I can see Ian for who he is, with his peculiar features and possible challenges that lie ahead, it feels that I am not able to really see him. Lately I see the ideal of a son that I had hoped for (perhaps even expected) in the face of all the adversity during my pregnancy. My disbelief is starting to fade, but I have been feeling like I got cheated out of so much. After a horrible pregnancy and spending weeks or months at home while he's in the NICU, I will press onward through the parental suffering that is sure to continue.
I am not naive. I know that suffering is an inevitable component of life, of parenthood. For some reason God has allowed much of the suffering in my life to accompany my pregnancies, and now my son's birth. I am beginning to think that maybe it's some kind of curse. I want to continue to have children, but I feel like it may have been better for me to have my tubes tied.
I am so afraid of getting pregnant again, not just for financial reasons, but what kind of horror could await me the next time? Clearly motherhood has it in for me. Gratitude would say that I have two beautiful children, and I do. The struggle for each of them has gone well beyond hours of labor and continues on.
Yes, I struggle with my son's differentness. It must stem from some insistence within myself to be "perfect".... Or not that, but a constant, unhealthy harping on my flaws. I am always beating myself up about things that I do, how I wish I were different. Lately, as Doug will tell you, I use every opportunity to lament about how much I hate how I look now.
Thanks to diastasis recti, I look 5 months pregnant (except my tummy is a weird lumpy protrusion) and dumb in everything I wear. I mean, why even bother trying to look cute. In so many ways I feel broken beyond repair. My body is just the outward representation of it.
I think God is showing me that it's finally time to accept myself, no matter what. He doesn't see me the way I see myself--all I see are my flaws and imperfections. According to Him, I am fearfully and wonderfully made... But I just see the mess.
I can't allow this mess to come between my son and me. I want to see Ian only as he is, as a precious gift. The bible says that children are a gift... and it says that every good and perfect gift comes from The Lord. See, Ian is absolutely perfect. God makes no mistakes.
People have given me kudos for just making what I believe to be the right choices in the midst of adversity. I don't deserve a pat on my back for following my convictions. How could I do anything else? Unfortunately, you never know what you're getting into when you follow your beliefs by default, as in the case of deciding not to terminate either of my pregnancies.
Some advocate gathering as many facts as possible, but too many details all at once can be traumatic and cause one to to jump ship. For that reason, I just put one foot in front of the other and trudge along in blind expectation of whatever is to come. It's just that acceptance doesn't automatically follow and takes work, at least for me.
I am/was supposed to have 2+ beautiful, perfect, healthy children... But here I am, and I am struggling to accept my son's otherness and induction into the larger community of families who have children that are different.
Perhaps what hurts me the most is now that I can see Ian for who he is, with his peculiar features and possible challenges that lie ahead, it feels that I am not able to really see him. Lately I see the ideal of a son that I had hoped for (perhaps even expected) in the face of all the adversity during my pregnancy. My disbelief is starting to fade, but I have been feeling like I got cheated out of so much. After a horrible pregnancy and spending weeks or months at home while he's in the NICU, I will press onward through the parental suffering that is sure to continue.
I am not naive. I know that suffering is an inevitable component of life, of parenthood. For some reason God has allowed much of the suffering in my life to accompany my pregnancies, and now my son's birth. I am beginning to think that maybe it's some kind of curse. I want to continue to have children, but I feel like it may have been better for me to have my tubes tied.
I am so afraid of getting pregnant again, not just for financial reasons, but what kind of horror could await me the next time? Clearly motherhood has it in for me. Gratitude would say that I have two beautiful children, and I do. The struggle for each of them has gone well beyond hours of labor and continues on.
Yes, I struggle with my son's differentness. It must stem from some insistence within myself to be "perfect".... Or not that, but a constant, unhealthy harping on my flaws. I am always beating myself up about things that I do, how I wish I were different. Lately, as Doug will tell you, I use every opportunity to lament about how much I hate how I look now.
Thanks to diastasis recti, I look 5 months pregnant (except my tummy is a weird lumpy protrusion) and dumb in everything I wear. I mean, why even bother trying to look cute. In so many ways I feel broken beyond repair. My body is just the outward representation of it.
I think God is showing me that it's finally time to accept myself, no matter what. He doesn't see me the way I see myself--all I see are my flaws and imperfections. According to Him, I am fearfully and wonderfully made... But I just see the mess.
I can't allow this mess to come between my son and me. I want to see Ian only as he is, as a precious gift. The bible says that children are a gift... and it says that every good and perfect gift comes from The Lord. See, Ian is absolutely perfect. God makes no mistakes.
People have given me kudos for just making what I believe to be the right choices in the midst of adversity. I don't deserve a pat on my back for following my convictions. How could I do anything else? Unfortunately, you never know what you're getting into when you follow your beliefs by default, as in the case of deciding not to terminate either of my pregnancies.
Some advocate gathering as many facts as possible, but too many details all at once can be traumatic and cause one to to jump ship. For that reason, I just put one foot in front of the other and trudge along in blind expectation of whatever is to come. It's just that acceptance doesn't automatically follow and takes work, at least for me.
Hump Day part 2
Instead of leaving the NICU on Wednesday before free parking was over, I stayed for the Mommy Care group. There were two other moms in the group, both with preemies who were in the step down nursery. The conversation was facilitated by the same social worker who is teaching me to knit.
I enjoyed connecting with the other moms , but they aren't going through what I am going through. Not only are their babies closer to going home, but their children are perfectly normal. They just need to gain weight so they can go home.
Conversely, the doctors don't know what is wrong with Ian, just that it's genetic and it's wrong. For some reason the way he formed in my womb has made him wonky. His sweet face is set upon a backdrop of low set ears, a short, webbed neck, a lot of extra skin at the nape of his neck where his hygroma was, in addition to his (apparently) long pinky fingers....plus other things.
Then there are the numerous things that we can't see or have yet to discover.
I enjoyed connecting with the other moms , but they aren't going through what I am going through. Not only are their babies closer to going home, but their children are perfectly normal. They just need to gain weight so they can go home.
Conversely, the doctors don't know what is wrong with Ian, just that it's genetic and it's wrong. For some reason the way he formed in my womb has made him wonky. His sweet face is set upon a backdrop of low set ears, a short, webbed neck, a lot of extra skin at the nape of his neck where his hygroma was, in addition to his (apparently) long pinky fingers....plus other things.
Then there are the numerous things that we can't see or have yet to discover.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Hump Day part 1
Yesterday when I held Ian, he opened his eyes much wider than I had seen him open them before. I guess he wanted to get a good look at me.
Today when I got to NICU I was sort of overloaded with information. He's going to have a repeated cranial scan, plus a neurology consult. In addition, he will be seen by a physical therapist and speech pathologist to shed light on any expected issues as we move forward.
The pressure on his nasal cannula has been moved down to 3 today so he's progressing along. I am writing from his bedside because he is asleep and positioned so that I can't see his face anyway.
It has been a long day and I am tired, so I am leaving before my free parking runs out and I need to get validated.
Today when I got to NICU I was sort of overloaded with information. He's going to have a repeated cranial scan, plus a neurology consult. In addition, he will be seen by a physical therapist and speech pathologist to shed light on any expected issues as we move forward.
The pressure on his nasal cannula has been moved down to 3 today so he's progressing along. I am writing from his bedside because he is asleep and positioned so that I can't see his face anyway.
It has been a long day and I am tired, so I am leaving before my free parking runs out and I need to get validated.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
blockade
And all my armor falling down, in a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warmth, as I'm singing him to sleep
The above are lyrics from one of my artists, Fiona Apple from Tidal (1996). A few conversations I've had lately with my husband brought that song to mind when I was deciding how to write this particular entry.
When I'm under any significant level of stress (or duress, really) I engage my emotional and physical blockade. It's nearly impossible to get close enough to me where I can authentically let anyone in, even Doug. Well, as a result of work and life overall (especially with the pregnancy) being overwhelming, I was already kind of shut off and emotionally unavailable. Now that Ian is in NICU for the duration, I'm truly in bad shape. I have practically drawn my head into my shell like a turtle. Please, let me know when the coast is clear.
As one could probably understand, this kind of reaction to stress is not healthy. It is especially unhealthy when considering a marriage. As a married couple, we are supposed to be one. So, when I shut down all avenues to my heart and block myself off from my husband, it's just bad business. I find myself running (or wanting to run away) from hugs and kisses. I have been like the kitty cat from the old Pepe Le Pew cartoons (not that my husband is anything like Pepe, lol). Like, I'll be ok as long as I'm just left in my own bubble to stew.
I realize that I can't continue to function like this. I have to let my husband in. Instead of withdrawing into myself I need to take care of him and allow him to take care of me while we both turn to God. It's just difficult for me to display true vulnerability. I've always said that I wear my heart on my sleeve, but I'm not sure that has been the case in my adult life.
Maybe being lonely for so many years prior to marrying and not learning to deal with that in a healthy way caused me to develop this hard shell as a coping mechanism for life? I don't back down from life. I just put on my self-made armor and blow through it.
This time, things are different. I have a met a trial that is well beyond the scope of my shoddy armor and coping mechanisms. If I don't reach outward and upward I am going to fall HARD. It looks like Ian will be in the NICU forever and not-returning to work is not an option. I have no idea when he'll be able to leave. One of my friends mentioned that she knew a baby personally that was in the same NICU for 10.5 months or so... until she was nearly a year old! I thought "Dear God, what if that is our situation?" I am not sure that is a situation that I could manage.
I mean I am freaking out about returning to work. There is no way I can get the 8 weeks of leave back that I was planning to spend home with Ian. I am having to use ALL of that time because I can't be cleared to return to work and because if I returned to work at the end of this 6 weeks (even though I had a c-section, our disability benefits only cover for 6 of the doctor-recommended 8 weeks) I would be a wreck. Work is already stressful enough without adding to it the NICU experience all while trying to make sure that Doug and Fluff are properly cared for... then having to pump at least 3 times while at work. This just really sucks. I am still experiencing anger, but I understand there is a point to all of this.
This experience is bringing my husband and I closer because it's unearthing unpleasant feelings and experiences from our lives prior to meeting each other. It's created a crisis and engaged a sort of spiritual "fight or flight" response in both of us. We are digging our heels in deep and fighting. Our main tools are prayer, conversation and reading the bible together. After something like this, we are not just going to go back to who we were. We can either be better or worse. We are striving to be better and drawer nearer to God in this time.
And my winter giving way to warmth, as I'm singing him to sleep
The above are lyrics from one of my artists, Fiona Apple from Tidal (1996). A few conversations I've had lately with my husband brought that song to mind when I was deciding how to write this particular entry.
When I'm under any significant level of stress (or duress, really) I engage my emotional and physical blockade. It's nearly impossible to get close enough to me where I can authentically let anyone in, even Doug. Well, as a result of work and life overall (especially with the pregnancy) being overwhelming, I was already kind of shut off and emotionally unavailable. Now that Ian is in NICU for the duration, I'm truly in bad shape. I have practically drawn my head into my shell like a turtle. Please, let me know when the coast is clear.
As one could probably understand, this kind of reaction to stress is not healthy. It is especially unhealthy when considering a marriage. As a married couple, we are supposed to be one. So, when I shut down all avenues to my heart and block myself off from my husband, it's just bad business. I find myself running (or wanting to run away) from hugs and kisses. I have been like the kitty cat from the old Pepe Le Pew cartoons (not that my husband is anything like Pepe, lol). Like, I'll be ok as long as I'm just left in my own bubble to stew.
I realize that I can't continue to function like this. I have to let my husband in. Instead of withdrawing into myself I need to take care of him and allow him to take care of me while we both turn to God. It's just difficult for me to display true vulnerability. I've always said that I wear my heart on my sleeve, but I'm not sure that has been the case in my adult life.
Maybe being lonely for so many years prior to marrying and not learning to deal with that in a healthy way caused me to develop this hard shell as a coping mechanism for life? I don't back down from life. I just put on my self-made armor and blow through it.
This time, things are different. I have a met a trial that is well beyond the scope of my shoddy armor and coping mechanisms. If I don't reach outward and upward I am going to fall HARD. It looks like Ian will be in the NICU forever and not-returning to work is not an option. I have no idea when he'll be able to leave. One of my friends mentioned that she knew a baby personally that was in the same NICU for 10.5 months or so... until she was nearly a year old! I thought "Dear God, what if that is our situation?" I am not sure that is a situation that I could manage.
I mean I am freaking out about returning to work. There is no way I can get the 8 weeks of leave back that I was planning to spend home with Ian. I am having to use ALL of that time because I can't be cleared to return to work and because if I returned to work at the end of this 6 weeks (even though I had a c-section, our disability benefits only cover for 6 of the doctor-recommended 8 weeks) I would be a wreck. Work is already stressful enough without adding to it the NICU experience all while trying to make sure that Doug and Fluff are properly cared for... then having to pump at least 3 times while at work. This just really sucks. I am still experiencing anger, but I understand there is a point to all of this.
This experience is bringing my husband and I closer because it's unearthing unpleasant feelings and experiences from our lives prior to meeting each other. It's created a crisis and engaged a sort of spiritual "fight or flight" response in both of us. We are digging our heels in deep and fighting. Our main tools are prayer, conversation and reading the bible together. After something like this, we are not just going to go back to who we were. We can either be better or worse. We are striving to be better and drawer nearer to God in this time.
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