I sat this morning in our nursery breastfeeding Liam, listening to the leftover rain trickling from the rooftop outside, and smelling my morning coffee on the table beside me. I heard the sound of Liam's little breath going in and out and the soft gulping noise that a new mom comes to know and love as she and her babe figure out this breastfeeding thing over the first few weeks of life. I rested comfortably in the soft, plush chair that reclines to offer me comfort and is shaped perfectly to support both Liam and me as he nurses.
I have never been so thankful for these small, everyday blessings.
Sunday night after a nice visit with Bryan's mom and a yummy dinner provided by a member of our church, I was holding Liam in my lap, staring at him in wonder as I am often found doing these days. We were planning to bathe him soon, so he was just wearing his diaper at the time. I noticed that his chest and stomach were really moving with each breath he took. He seemed to be working really hard just to get a breath in. I called Bryan over to ask his opinion, and took a video which I sent to my mom and sister with the caption "Is this normal?" They quickly indicated that it seemed pretty labored to them, and that no, this did not seem normal. Bryan suggested we call the pediatrician to get the nurse on call's advice on how to proceed. Within half an hour we were in the car and headed to Children's Healthcare of Atlanta. Thankfully, the hospital is just about a ten minute drive for us, though Bryan asked me why the drive felt like it was taking hours as we drove. I replied that I had no idea, but that it was certainly taking what seemed like an eternity as I sat in the back seat and looked at Liam's chest pumping air in and out.
The nurse on the phone had said "Make sure you tell them he was in the NICU when he was born and make sure you tell them he is having respiratory problems." While I was thankful for the advice, which I assumed would help us to be seen urgently, I was simultaneously terrified as I figured that these two pieces of information would indicate to the ER that this situation was serious. I did not want the situation to be serious! We were seen quickly by the admitting nurse, and got to a room relatively fast. Liam's respiratory rate was jumping to the 80's on and off, which we knew from our stay in the NICU was definitely cause for concern. The doctor saw us and let us know we would be admitted overnight so they could run tests and monitor him as they worked to get his respiratory rate down. So here we were with our fifteen day old son about to have our first hospital stay. There were a lot of tears as they put him into a newborn hospital gown and stuck his hand with an IV- which I knew from recent experience hurts pretty badly. The spot on Liam's other hand had not yet even healed from the IV he had in the NICU, and here he was having another IV put into the opposite hand. I was grateful for the obviously needed medical help and simultaneously angry that they were sticking my son with another needle. I wanted to rip it out the whole time we were there. They drew blood to test for bacterial infections and took a nasal swab to test for viruses. They took us back to do a chest X ray which was the worst experience we had while there as Bryan was supposed to hold down his feet and I was to hold his arms up on either side of his head, pushing in on his face to keep him still. Liam HATED this, and screamed bloody murder while looking up at me with his tiny eyes which seemed to ask what I was doing to him and why this was happening. We had never heard him cry so loudly. His expression combined with the weight of the apron you have to wear causing my C section incision to ache was more than I could handle. After two failed attempts to get a good image, the technician came and took over for me. I went to the corner and wept until they were finished.
My mom showed up some time after midnight since she, of course, couldn't sleep. We were finally admitted to our room on the third floor around 2 AM and I was FINALLY able to breastfeed Liam. He was several hours late feeding and I hadn't been allowed to nurse him until we got to the floor. I took a quick shower and changed into the clothes my mom brought (where would I be without that woman?) and got settled in for the night. Mom went home to rest and Bryan went home to look after Sawyer. There was only one bed, and being the sole source of food, I obviously had to stay while Bryan needed to go home. I am sure that was incredibly difficult for him.
The next couple of days are a bit of a blur. They were filled with uncomfortable breastfeeding sessions where both Liam and I struggled to find a position that worked in the hospital chair. There were various nurses and techs- some wonderful and a couple that fell short to be honest. Liam had an echo-cardiogram on Monday and the technician who did it as well as the doctor who ordered it both assured us that we would have the results that day. The test was run at around 2 in the afternoon. At 5:30 I asked the tech when we could expect the results. She went out to ask our nurse, and came back in to let us know the nurse had said it was pretty late in the day, so the doctor had probably left, and we would probably just get the results the next morning. Bryan and I had been on pins and needles all afternoon awaiting these results. All of the other tests had been negative, and my fear was that this last test would reveal a major heart defect. I was so nervous I could hardly breathe. The poor tech relayed this message from the nurse to us and I just remember screaming "DAMMIT!" and bursting into tears. The tech said she would go check with the nurse and I asked Bryan to get the nurse into our room immediately. He called her, and she said "Yea, the tech told me your wife was upset. I'll call the doctor to see if she is still here." Upon following up with the doctor, she told us that the doctor would be in our room within 5 to 10 minutes and had apparently always planned to visit us before leaving for the day. I was livid that the nurse had showed such a lack of attention to detail and had just guessed that we wouldn't have the results that day. To have had that hanging over our heads through the already difficult night ahead in the hospital would have been unbearable. (We had already had issues with this nurse earlier in the day as she had given us conflicting information from the respiratory team which just left us feeling lost and confused.)
Thankfully the results from the echo-cardiogram were good. There were no significant worries, and it was determined that the respiratory problems were not caused by his heart. At shift change that evening, we met our night nurse Kristania who was a game changer for us from a nursing perspective. I explained to her through tears that we had NOT had a good day and I was probably more defensive than I needed to be. I was in mama bear mode by this point and was over the possibility of a lack of good care. She was excellent and really comforted Bryan and me as she cared for Liam and updated us with information about next steps and the various possibilities of how the night and next day could go. We are very thankful to have had her care for us that night and I apologized to her for being a crazy pants mom when she had initially arrived.
Ultimately, we were released yesterday after Liam was weaned off of the air flow they had been giving him (which was not pure oxygen, but was the same concentration as room air, just at a higher flow in order to help him breathe easier). We packed up our little red wagon and left after two long and sleepless nights, a lot of coffee, and many prayers.
The experience of staying in a children's hospital was such a double edged sword to me. On the one hand, I was so incredibly thankful to have such a great hospital so close by. I couldn't imagine how I would feel if we lived far away or if our only option was a sub-par ER that didn't focus on children. On the other hand, everywhere you turn in a children's hospital there is heartache. Everywhere. Liam was probably one of the healthiest kids on our floor. There was a boy in the room next to us who looked to be about ten or eleven who I believe had cystic fibrosis or a similar condition. And for the majority of the time, he was alone. I would step out to get water or coffee, and look into his room. It was dark and he laid there, shirtless under the covers, staring up at the TV with a blank expression on his face, his mouth agape. Alone and probably scared. I just wanted to go in and hug him or talk to him and or pay him some kind of attention to make him feel loved. When my mom arrived on Monday and I told her about the boy. "Mom, he is alone. There is nobody there with him." She replied, "Right honey, because his parents are probably at work so they can pay for him to be here." I immediately thanked God that Bryan and I were able to be at the hospital with Liam. I can't imagine the pain of having to leave your child alone in the hospital. Later that day, Mom came into the room and told me that there were two people with the boy- probably his mom and dad- and it made my heart so glad.
We only had two nights at CHOA with Liam. God willing, we will not be back soon! So many families have it so much worse. For us, there was no chemo, no permanent physical malady, no surgery. But for the kids we passed on the way to the cafeteria or the chapel, this was not the case. There were so many tinies walking around bravely in their hospital gowns pushing their IV's alongside them. One was even dressed as Batman! It was so confronting and was such a reminder to be thankful for Liam's overall good health.
Sitting here writing this post this morning with Liam laying beside me, randomly smiling in his sleep, I am so incredibly thankful. I am more keenly aware of how lucky we are to have him safe and healthy at home with us. Driving past CHOA, as I do many times a week, will never be the same after having stayed on the inside of its walls. May God bless the babies and children who are still there this morning and their families, as well as the people brave enough to walk into those doors each day and care for these precious ones. It would take strength and courage that I can't imagine to do so.
