Nyana is forty days old today. I swear I’d be a millionaire if I was able to find a way to sell tickets for the emotional roller coaster we’ve been on since she was born. Who knew it would be so easy to bounce between such extremes of highs and lows? How easy it is to go to bed one evening feeling completely worn down and defeated, only to arrive at the NICU in the morning to a mountain of happiness?
Don and I know that in the NICU, as with all things parenting, we are going to have to take the good with the bad. But after the few days we’ve just had, we’re ready for the good again. Following her day from hell on Tuesday, I camped out by her solarium all day yesterday. She had a rough start to the morning—bouncing all over the place with her oxygen needs—but she’d settled down a bit by the afternoon and I was almost feeling a bit silly for feeling so panicked the day before. I sat beside her with my computer in my lap, alternating between paying attention to her and the hockey game.
Don arrived, and we had a bite to eat during the shift change. We came back into the nursery, lifted the blanket on her solarium, and were shocked to find our beautiful babygirl now had an IV in her head! Seriously? I stayed by her side all day, save for half an hour, and during those thirty minutes I was gone, they managed to swoop in and insert a morphine drip in her scalp? She’d had the IV line in her wrist for days, and sometime during the day yesterday the site gave out. Morphine had pooled in her arm, leaving a huge bubble under the skin. I know that the head is a common place for IV lines in babies—they’re easier and less painful to get in, and less likely to be pulled or kicked out—but when it’s unexpected, it’s a jarring thing to see!
Before we knew it, it was 10 o’clock and we caught our bus home. I had no idea what to expect this morning when I arrived. I only knew that after 48 hours of uncertainty, I needed to be here to schmooze with the doctors during morning rounds. Turns out it was all for naught; it would seem that the prayers that I asked for on Tuesday when all looked bleak have been heard. Her doctors and RTs are all amazed at the numbers they’re looking at today compared to two days ago. She’s not out of the woods, not by any means, but whatever you readers are doing, keep doing it. Morning rounds this morning was nothing more than “keep on keepin’ on, Babygirl.” She’s stabilized, breathing better the she has in days, and her blood gases are the best they’ve been in weeks.
I needed a day like today. A day where there was no news. Because in the NICU, no news is good news.