Ultrasound

Waking Into a Nightmare

/ bperica / 2 Comments

When the doctor ordered a head ultrasound on you to finally put to rest any doubts we had about your head size I was comfortable with the call. Why not just check? I felt confident that nothing was going to come of it. However, as the day of the ultrasound approached I had this horrible feeling. I probably only have my imagination to blame. I guess I got hung up on a worst-case scenario and dwelt on it too long.

You did wonderfully during your head ultrasound. Your arms were flailing a bit and we had to hold them down, but you did not mind the cool gel in your hair or the foreign environment. We were there for less than an hour and went home awaiting results. We did not expect to get results that night while we were finishing dinner. Mom answered her phone and I did not think anything of the conversation until she pulled the phone away from her ear for a second to tell me it was your doctor calling. I knew a 7pm call from the doctor the day of your head ultrasound meant only one thing, he saw something he did not like. I sat at the dinner table and stewed, bracing myself for the next punch to the gut. What am I about to hear? I looked at you on the living room floor, trying to get mom’s attention while she spoke to your doctor, wonderfully out of touch with the news being delivered to us.

Mom told me that the doctor was concerned about the size of your ventricles. Out of caution, he recommended a consult with a neurosurgeon, which would most likely be preceded by an MRI. Mom explained all this news about you very well, even trying to calm me as the doctor tried to calm her, explaining that large ventricles may not mean anything right now. The consult and MRI are out of caution so we can really see if something is not going as planned in that big head of yours.

As Mom called her parents and delivered the news, I had to lie down on the floor with you. I clutched you as you crawled over me, not even taking my hand away to wipe the occasional tear from my face, letting them slide down my cheek and drip onto the carpet. I wanted to cuddle with you. You wanted to play. I had to call my parents too so Mom took you upstairs and you fell asleep on her.

Going to bed that night I was wishing I would wake up and remember that this was all part of a bad dream. I guess that is the great thing about having a bad dream. You wake up and there is an instant when you think the dream was real, but then you really come to and you remember with delight that none of that bad stuff you dreamt about happened. But the next morning it was the opposite. I came out of a great night of sleep and then as soon as I remembered the new reality I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted to forget again. It was so good, that peace I had during sleep, and now it had slipped away and I did not want to face the day without it.

To be continued…

Born in the USA, Raised in the NICU

/ bperica / Leave a comment

London is a remarkably happy baby. She tolerates so much and cries very little. We hear this from nearly everyone London meets. I tell them I have a theory. For the first 3.5 months of London’s life she had medical professionals treating her around the clock. In addition to the diaper change, temperature check, and respiratory check every four hours, she was also interrupted with head ultrasounds, echocardiograms, at times shots, the placing of a new IV line, and physical therapy. This is the NICU norm. For the baby, they assume this is what life is like, this is how all babies live out their early days. So, what is crying going to do?

That is the attitude London embraced. To make London cry now, you almost have to give her an ROP exam. Her frightening start and all the procedures that it necessitated made her one tough babe. I like to think that most long-term NICU babies also graduate as super tough and tolerant little things, but I have a few reasons to believe that that is not the case because all too often nurses would tell us how amazing London is with a shot, for example, when she would barely cry for one second in response to the needle, but the boy next-door would wail for a couple minutes.

In a way, the NICU schedule of around the clock treatments or feedings continues when some preemies come home. Usually with full-term babies it’s the baby waking the parents up, but with preemies, it is quite often the parents waking the baby up. Whether it is a feeding time, a cannula check, a breathing check, or just a general are-you-alive-over-there check, London’s day and night were interrupted by her parents for quite some time.

Below are some pictures and a video that only give you a sliver of the stuff London and other preemies endure at the NICU.

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One of the less intrusive procedures, an echocardiogram when London was not even a week old. This one revealed a PDA, which was resolved over the two weeks following this echo.

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As London’s lungs strengthened, she was placed on CPAP. Of course, I loved the progress, but I had a strong dislike of CPAP because it covered up most of her face. It was nearly impossible to see both of her eyes from the same angle when she was wearing her snorkel-like attachment. It drove me crazy, but London, always so chill, tolerated it like a champ.

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An every four-hour checkup on London, one of her “cares.” This particular picture was taken during London’s three-chin phase of life.

It was May by the time of this echo. As you can see, it’s no big deal to her. She’s about ready to fall asleep mid-echo while nurse Eileen chats away in the background about how busy the NICU is that morning. We thought London was done with echocardiograms by this stage, but the doctor ordered another battery of tests to see why she was so tired and not eating. On this particular day, day 95 in the NICU, it was London’s peaceful state of mind that helped calm us down.