Having a newborn is exhausting for anyone. Not sleeping combined with the pressure of being responsible for a tiny, helpless humans every need is a huge stressor for anyone, even an experienced parent. When you mix in the fact that you have lost a child and are very much grieving, it's an insane combination.
I know every new parent gets stressed about many things. They may wonder "Is my baby getting enough food?" "Why is my baby so damn fussy?" "Is his breathing sounding normal?" The questions just go on, especially when we are working on minimal hours of sleep and dealing with roller coastering hormones. When you have a rainbow though, these stressors are magnified. Instead of wondering if the baby is getting enough food, you convince yourself that they're not eating enough because they have an infection and are going to get really sick and die. And if they are eating a lot, you start thinking that maybe they ate too much and they are going to spit up while they are sleeping and aspirate it into their lungs which will cause them to get pneumonia and die.
You worry about them not pooping for a day and, even though your doctor tells you that its normal behavior for a newborn, you convince yourself that they now have a bowel obstruction and it's going to cause an infection and they are going to die. Or you hear them rapidly breathing and, though the books say that is normal, you are convinced that something is wrong with their lungs and they aren't getting enough oxygen so they are going to die. Not to mention the fact that you get up multiple times a night just to make sure they are breathing because you have convinced yourself while you are lying there straining to hear their breath, that they have somehow suffocated themselves with their blanket or have become a victim of SIDS.
Yes, all of these thoughts and more go through my mind on a pretty much hourly basis. Yes, I realize that I am overreacting and that the chances of anything happening are slim. But it's hard to believe that everything is going to be okay when you have been on the shitty side of the odds. I feel like I have limited time with my son and I am just waiting for the proverbial shit to hit the fan. I know it sounds really morbid but I can't help it. I have watched one of my children die. I know the worst can happen to anyone because it happened to me. I know I am not safe from the realities of the world. It makes it hard to believe that everything is going to be okay.
I know this sounds sick as well, but my fears are part of the reason I am taking as many pictures and video of him as I can. I want something to see, to watch, to listen to, just in case. It's something I didn't do with Naya and as a result, I have absolutely no video of her and a handful of pictures. I regret it so much and don't want to make the same mistake.
I wonder if this fear ever goes away or if I'm going to have to live with it forever.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
1 Year
A year. I can't believe it's already been a year. Sometimes, it seems like it happened yesterday and sometimes it feels like it was an eternity ago. The worst part is that sometimes it even feels like it never happened. Like she was a dream that ended in our worst nightmare. No matter what it feels like, the fact is that it's been a year. Naya died one year ago today and our lives changed forever.
I wish the memories of this day would subside. I hope that on the years to come I will forget the feeling of walking into her room and seeing her saturations hovering in the 70s and the look on her nurse's face when she saw us and we knew it was time to let her go. I wish that I could forget the emotions that ensued as we made that agonizing decision. The physical and emotional pain as we waited for family to make the three hour drive to the hospital to say goodbye. It still makes me sick that we were sitting there waiting to let our daughter die.
I wish I couldn't still hear myself wailing as she was handed to us alive for the last time. I wish I could close my eyes and not see her gasp for a last breath as her eyelids fluttered. I wish I couldn't hear the doctor call her time of death as her body stiffened in our arms.
I wish she was still here.
It's been a year since my daughter died and my heart is still in pieces. I still wish that I could wake up and that it never happened but I no longer believe that's possible. It's been a year and I still cry every single day although I can now control when and where I do so. It's been a year and even though I have my rainbow, I still avoid babies and pregnant women because it still hurts. It's been a year.
It's been a year and I thought that it would bring some clarity but I'm still angry. I'm angry at the hospital for not following standards of care and releasing her. I'm angry at the stupid bitch of a pediatrician for completely dismissing our valid concerns, ignoring her symptoms and being very, very complacent with her care. Mostly, I'm still angry at myself for not being more insistent that she receive the best, like I did with her brother. I am angry that I didn't have the foresight to realize that I should have delivered at a hospital with a NICU because they would have recognized what was going on. I am angry because I failed her. I am still so angry and it's been a year.
It's been a year and I still I wish I could hold her again. I wish I could have seem her smile and heard her laugh. Hell, I wish I could hear her cry. I wish I could have enjoyed every milestone of this past year and seen her sit-up and crawl and walk and talk. I wish she could meet her baby brother. I wish we could hold both of them in our arms. It's been a year and I want that year back with her in it.
It's been a year. It's been a fucking year.
I wish the memories of this day would subside. I hope that on the years to come I will forget the feeling of walking into her room and seeing her saturations hovering in the 70s and the look on her nurse's face when she saw us and we knew it was time to let her go. I wish that I could forget the emotions that ensued as we made that agonizing decision. The physical and emotional pain as we waited for family to make the three hour drive to the hospital to say goodbye. It still makes me sick that we were sitting there waiting to let our daughter die.
I wish I couldn't still hear myself wailing as she was handed to us alive for the last time. I wish I could close my eyes and not see her gasp for a last breath as her eyelids fluttered. I wish I couldn't hear the doctor call her time of death as her body stiffened in our arms.
I wish she was still here.
It's been a year since my daughter died and my heart is still in pieces. I still wish that I could wake up and that it never happened but I no longer believe that's possible. It's been a year and I still cry every single day although I can now control when and where I do so. It's been a year and even though I have my rainbow, I still avoid babies and pregnant women because it still hurts. It's been a year.
It's been a year and I thought that it would bring some clarity but I'm still angry. I'm angry at the hospital for not following standards of care and releasing her. I'm angry at the stupid bitch of a pediatrician for completely dismissing our valid concerns, ignoring her symptoms and being very, very complacent with her care. Mostly, I'm still angry at myself for not being more insistent that she receive the best, like I did with her brother. I am angry that I didn't have the foresight to realize that I should have delivered at a hospital with a NICU because they would have recognized what was going on. I am angry because I failed her. I am still so angry and it's been a year.
It's been a year and I still I wish I could hold her again. I wish I could have seem her smile and heard her laugh. Hell, I wish I could hear her cry. I wish I could have enjoyed every milestone of this past year and seen her sit-up and crawl and walk and talk. I wish she could meet her baby brother. I wish we could hold both of them in our arms. It's been a year and I want that year back with her in it.
It's been a year. It's been a fucking year.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Rhone
Wow. I have been absent for awhile! I have a good excuse though. On September 5 at 1:52am, I gave birth to a beautiful 7lb 9oz baby boy. His name is Rhone Nayin Manalo and he is absolutely perfect. Rhone means "that which runs" or river and Nayin is pronounced like Nigh in and means Bright Eyes in Indian. (It's also an obvious homage to Naya.) He's also very healthy. He's eating and pooping and doing everything normal newborns should do. He actually pooped within the first 6 hours or so after birth. A nurse was in the room with us when we opened that first poopy diaper and started crying with us. She told us that she had never seen parents cry over the first poop before and it was touching.
Speaking of the nurses, we had a wonderful and amazing birth experience this time around. My OB (gosh, I love her), had made sure that the labor and delivery staff knew our story and everyone went above and beyond to make sure that Rhone was thoroughly checked and that we were comfortable with everyone and everything. The on call pediatrician even called a Children's hospital to double check if there was anything he should be specifically doing to check Rhone's digestive system and make sure that his bowels were in working order. Every nurse took the time to check him thoroughly while taking vitals and treated us with so much love and compassion. I truly can't say enough good things about how wonderful everyone was. I am so thankful. It was amazing.
The only hard part was that Rhone had jaundice. He had to be brought to the nursery to be placed under the bili lights and could only spend feeding times with us. It was very tough to be separated from him for that 24 hours, especially because he was in a bed similar to what Naya was in while she was in the NICU. It brought back a lot of hard memories for us (PTSD is a bitch) and we had to keep telling ourselves that he was fine, jaundice is super common and he was in a nursery and not a NICU. Luckily, it only meant an extra day in the hospital and we were able to be released at the same time.
Physically, I am doing very well. Healing is going much more smoothly than it did for either Ty or Naya and I am ready to go back to the gym and start reclaiming my body. Mentally, I am doing well with some hiccups. I can truly say that I am feeling real joy again and the smile on my face is genuine rather than forced. My grief feels like it has changed a bit as well - it's still there, still intense but not constant. Perhaps I am just distracted with Rhone and the work and happiness he has brought or perhaps it's because it's almost been a year since Naya died but I do feel a change of some sort. I am feeling somewhat happy and excited about life again. I never thought I would be able to say that.
Not that the happiness doesn't come with a price. This whole experience with Rhone's birth and all the extra precautions taken have also made me cry. I wish I could go back in time and insist that Naya receive the same care. It has made me realize even more what a shitty deal she got and how much she didn't deserve the hand she got dealt. I wish I could have protected her better. I wish I knew then what I knew now. It makes it hard to fully enjoy my son without feeling guilty about the life my daughter was denied. I still miss her. I always will and I wish I could have both of them. Life can be very bittersweet.
Speaking of the nurses, we had a wonderful and amazing birth experience this time around. My OB (gosh, I love her), had made sure that the labor and delivery staff knew our story and everyone went above and beyond to make sure that Rhone was thoroughly checked and that we were comfortable with everyone and everything. The on call pediatrician even called a Children's hospital to double check if there was anything he should be specifically doing to check Rhone's digestive system and make sure that his bowels were in working order. Every nurse took the time to check him thoroughly while taking vitals and treated us with so much love and compassion. I truly can't say enough good things about how wonderful everyone was. I am so thankful. It was amazing.
The only hard part was that Rhone had jaundice. He had to be brought to the nursery to be placed under the bili lights and could only spend feeding times with us. It was very tough to be separated from him for that 24 hours, especially because he was in a bed similar to what Naya was in while she was in the NICU. It brought back a lot of hard memories for us (PTSD is a bitch) and we had to keep telling ourselves that he was fine, jaundice is super common and he was in a nursery and not a NICU. Luckily, it only meant an extra day in the hospital and we were able to be released at the same time.
Physically, I am doing very well. Healing is going much more smoothly than it did for either Ty or Naya and I am ready to go back to the gym and start reclaiming my body. Mentally, I am doing well with some hiccups. I can truly say that I am feeling real joy again and the smile on my face is genuine rather than forced. My grief feels like it has changed a bit as well - it's still there, still intense but not constant. Perhaps I am just distracted with Rhone and the work and happiness he has brought or perhaps it's because it's almost been a year since Naya died but I do feel a change of some sort. I am feeling somewhat happy and excited about life again. I never thought I would be able to say that.
Not that the happiness doesn't come with a price. This whole experience with Rhone's birth and all the extra precautions taken have also made me cry. I wish I could go back in time and insist that Naya receive the same care. It has made me realize even more what a shitty deal she got and how much she didn't deserve the hand she got dealt. I wish I could have protected her better. I wish I knew then what I knew now. It makes it hard to fully enjoy my son without feeling guilty about the life my daughter was denied. I still miss her. I always will and I wish I could have both of them. Life can be very bittersweet.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Freaking Out
I hate this. I am having a shitty, emotional day (okay like two weeks now) and I am driving myself crazy. As of today, I am 38 weeks and 3 days pregnant. While I am uncomfortable at this point, it is nothing compared to the mental torture I am going through. To put it bluntly, I am freaking out and I really can't think of a way to stop other than delivering this child (which will bring on a whole new set of worries but one step at a time here.)
Before I had Naya, I was prone to anxiety. There were a few times when I had panic attacks and would actually drive myself to the hospital and sit in the ER, just in case. Over time, I learned to manage my anxiety (mainly by cutting out caffeine and getting off the pill) and once I got pregnant with Naya, I hardly ever got anxious. After she died, I expected my anxiety to return full force and was surprised when it didn't. Now is a different story.
I have been pretty good this whole pregnancy. The first trimester was rough. I was sure that I was going to miscarry and I was constantly checking for blood and second guessing every cramp. Once I hit the second trimester, I mellowed and the rest of the pregnancy, I was fairly calm. Until now. Everyday is kind of torturous. When I don't feel the baby move, I freak out. I can't sleep. I am up crying a lot of the night or having panic attacks. I am so scared. I don't think I can deal with another dead baby and I am so scared that it's going to happen again. I just want the baby here so I can double check that it's okay all the time without an expensive hospital bill attached everytime. (Yes, I've been to the ER...I'm that pathetic.)
I realize that what happened with Naya was a fluke incident with the chances of it happening again akin to getting struck by lightning. Twice. That's all well and good but what about all the other more "common" ways babies die? Who says that can't happen to me. Cause guess what? I no longer live in that naive "everything will be fine, these things happen to other people and not to me" world. These things can happen to anyone at anytime. Why couldn't it happen again?
Sometimes I don't think it helps that I have completely engulfed myself completely in this "baby loss" world. Don't get me wrong - this wasn't a mistake. I love all the other loss mommas I have met. They have been my saviors and I really don't think I could have gotten through this far without them. It's just that I now know literally hundreds of women who have lost their babies (not to mention older children). You learn everyone else's story, which is just as tragic and unique as your own. And you can't help but think, "oh fuck, this could happen to me." I know that I am never "safe." My baby can die. Anytime and of a variety of things. And it's fucking stressful. I'm drained.
Before I had Naya, I was prone to anxiety. There were a few times when I had panic attacks and would actually drive myself to the hospital and sit in the ER, just in case. Over time, I learned to manage my anxiety (mainly by cutting out caffeine and getting off the pill) and once I got pregnant with Naya, I hardly ever got anxious. After she died, I expected my anxiety to return full force and was surprised when it didn't. Now is a different story.
I have been pretty good this whole pregnancy. The first trimester was rough. I was sure that I was going to miscarry and I was constantly checking for blood and second guessing every cramp. Once I hit the second trimester, I mellowed and the rest of the pregnancy, I was fairly calm. Until now. Everyday is kind of torturous. When I don't feel the baby move, I freak out. I can't sleep. I am up crying a lot of the night or having panic attacks. I am so scared. I don't think I can deal with another dead baby and I am so scared that it's going to happen again. I just want the baby here so I can double check that it's okay all the time without an expensive hospital bill attached everytime. (Yes, I've been to the ER...I'm that pathetic.)
I realize that what happened with Naya was a fluke incident with the chances of it happening again akin to getting struck by lightning. Twice. That's all well and good but what about all the other more "common" ways babies die? Who says that can't happen to me. Cause guess what? I no longer live in that naive "everything will be fine, these things happen to other people and not to me" world. These things can happen to anyone at anytime. Why couldn't it happen again?
Sometimes I don't think it helps that I have completely engulfed myself completely in this "baby loss" world. Don't get me wrong - this wasn't a mistake. I love all the other loss mommas I have met. They have been my saviors and I really don't think I could have gotten through this far without them. It's just that I now know literally hundreds of women who have lost their babies (not to mention older children). You learn everyone else's story, which is just as tragic and unique as your own. And you can't help but think, "oh fuck, this could happen to me." I know that I am never "safe." My baby can die. Anytime and of a variety of things. And it's fucking stressful. I'm drained.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Another Step in Making Change
I apologize for taking so much time between posts lately. I am absolutely exhausted. 37 weeks 1 day pregnant today and I am feeling it. The way I am carrying this (bigger) baby is really having an affect on my body. I can manage to get myself up to go to work but that is about it at this point. I get home and I am DONE. It's a real struggle to cook dinner for the family and keep the house clean at this point. I tried to sweep the living room today and I had to lay down afterwards because my back hurt. I am looking forward to not being pregnant anymore and soon. My poor body needs a break.
I know a lot of people have wondered what we are doing with the whole legal situation right now. I can't go into that quite yet but I did want to share a meeting Dan and I had last week with the Vice President of Medical Affairs at the Hospital where I gave birth to Naya. It was quite interesting and, honestly, a good experience. I went in there expecting to be placated and brushed off but was pleasantly surprised when the opposite happened. He was very forthcoming, apologetic and honest. He admitted that there were faults in what happened and took responsibility for them. He also apologized, which I know sounds like a small gesture, but it was one in which we were really appreciative of. No one has done this so far, especially not the old pediatrician. It was bittersweet to hear but it helped. Nothing is going to bring her back (believe me, if there was something I would have tried it) but it helped to hear that we did everything we could have and other people screwed up. Multiple times. Ugh.
He also told us that some steps were being taken to prevent this from happening again. There was and is going to be another internal review process, especially concerning the behavior of the pediatrician. We are not legally permitted to know what occurs because of the process but he told us that sometimes physician's privileges are revoked until they go back to school to "relearn" procedure. He also told us that the hospital is planning on creating a new position in their labor and delivery department to help ensure that this does not happen again. They are hiring a neonatal Nurse Practitioner to act as a liaison between their nurses and the doctors. This person would be in charge of looking for inconsistencies and acting on them. (In our case - this person would have seen that the nurses noted that Naya hadn't pooped and wasn't eating and it would have been her job to raise the red flag, despite what the doctor might have ordered.) We were very glad to hear this and are thankful that the hospital is taking this seriously. Our hope is that this will prevent other families from having to go through a similar experience. I wish we didn't have to be poster children for change but since I can't change what happened, I have to do something. It gives her life some purpose and that helps. Somewhat. I still would rather have her back.
I know a lot of people have wondered what we are doing with the whole legal situation right now. I can't go into that quite yet but I did want to share a meeting Dan and I had last week with the Vice President of Medical Affairs at the Hospital where I gave birth to Naya. It was quite interesting and, honestly, a good experience. I went in there expecting to be placated and brushed off but was pleasantly surprised when the opposite happened. He was very forthcoming, apologetic and honest. He admitted that there were faults in what happened and took responsibility for them. He also apologized, which I know sounds like a small gesture, but it was one in which we were really appreciative of. No one has done this so far, especially not the old pediatrician. It was bittersweet to hear but it helped. Nothing is going to bring her back (believe me, if there was something I would have tried it) but it helped to hear that we did everything we could have and other people screwed up. Multiple times. Ugh.
He also told us that some steps were being taken to prevent this from happening again. There was and is going to be another internal review process, especially concerning the behavior of the pediatrician. We are not legally permitted to know what occurs because of the process but he told us that sometimes physician's privileges are revoked until they go back to school to "relearn" procedure. He also told us that the hospital is planning on creating a new position in their labor and delivery department to help ensure that this does not happen again. They are hiring a neonatal Nurse Practitioner to act as a liaison between their nurses and the doctors. This person would be in charge of looking for inconsistencies and acting on them. (In our case - this person would have seen that the nurses noted that Naya hadn't pooped and wasn't eating and it would have been her job to raise the red flag, despite what the doctor might have ordered.) We were very glad to hear this and are thankful that the hospital is taking this seriously. Our hope is that this will prevent other families from having to go through a similar experience. I wish we didn't have to be poster children for change but since I can't change what happened, I have to do something. It gives her life some purpose and that helps. Somewhat. I still would rather have her back.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Cleaning out the Room
Hard to believe but I didn't even realize what the date was today until about Noon. Then it hit me - Of course that's why I was feeling like crap today. It's the 14th. Duh. It's funny how that kind of automatically puts me in a mood, even when I don't realize what day it is. It's been 11 months since the last time I held my baby girl in my arms and I kissed her goodbye.
We've actually had a lot of things going on in the last week or so that have kept me busy and emotional. On Sunday, Dan and I took a huge step and cleaned out Naya's room. I had been gradually working up to this - I bought bins a month ago and a pretty pink memory box a few weeks ago. I've also been putting things for the new baby into the room. (Not a lot of things but I have bought a few items like a new car seat and stroller as well as some "rainbow" hats and stuffed animals.) But on Sunday, we decided to just do it. We basically sat down and made three piles - Keeping for the new baby, giving away and storing. We decided to keep a lot of items - the crib, the rocker, the dresser, the swing, plus anything that she hadn't directly used (toys, bumbo, Ergo, etc.) We also made the decision to keep all of the bedding and some of the decor, which was something we had gone back and forth with. On the one hand, we wanted this baby to have their own stuff but on the other, we wanted them to share something. We decided that we will repaint the room next weekend and personalize it to the new baby with new wall art, etc. We made the same decision with the clothing and blankets. Anything that was specifically made for her or that she wore, we packed away. Everything else we kept.
In the giveaway pile, we put the stroller, the car seat and a couple other items. Nothing was actually wrong with these things but they just have awful memories associated with them. The car seat was the last place we saw our daughter in a "normal" way - meaning without tubes and vents keeping her alive. I didn't think we could handle using these things for the new baby, so they are going to a woman's shelter.
The last pile was probably the hardest. This pile contained everything we had and wanted to save of our daughter. Her baby book, her footprints, her bag of hair that they cut off in the Hospital to treat her bed sores. The outfit that we originally brought her home in. Balloons that people had sent after she was born saying "It's a Girl!" Presents that were sent to our house after we had left for the hospital that we had never opened. Her princess bear and unicorn that were on her window sill in the hospital. The hair bows we changed every day. The blanket that she had been wrapped in after she died and we held her for hours. The newspaper articles written about her. The guestbook from the funeral. Dan and I sorted all of these things and more and put most of them away into a bin in the garage and the rest in the memory box that is now sitting on a shelf in our living room. I think that was the hardest part for me - my daughter's life fits into a bin and a small box. It hurts.
But we got it done. And next weekend, we will finish the room as best we can for this rainbow that will be here very, very soon. I was planning on writing more tonight but I will have to continue tomorrow. My back is yelling at me to go lie down and I figure I better listen, especially after I had to spend some time yesterday having a non-stress test at the hospital. (Everything was fine - the baby is usually a wiggle monster and was barely moving. I wanted to be safe rather than sorry.)
We've actually had a lot of things going on in the last week or so that have kept me busy and emotional. On Sunday, Dan and I took a huge step and cleaned out Naya's room. I had been gradually working up to this - I bought bins a month ago and a pretty pink memory box a few weeks ago. I've also been putting things for the new baby into the room. (Not a lot of things but I have bought a few items like a new car seat and stroller as well as some "rainbow" hats and stuffed animals.) But on Sunday, we decided to just do it. We basically sat down and made three piles - Keeping for the new baby, giving away and storing. We decided to keep a lot of items - the crib, the rocker, the dresser, the swing, plus anything that she hadn't directly used (toys, bumbo, Ergo, etc.) We also made the decision to keep all of the bedding and some of the decor, which was something we had gone back and forth with. On the one hand, we wanted this baby to have their own stuff but on the other, we wanted them to share something. We decided that we will repaint the room next weekend and personalize it to the new baby with new wall art, etc. We made the same decision with the clothing and blankets. Anything that was specifically made for her or that she wore, we packed away. Everything else we kept.
In the giveaway pile, we put the stroller, the car seat and a couple other items. Nothing was actually wrong with these things but they just have awful memories associated with them. The car seat was the last place we saw our daughter in a "normal" way - meaning without tubes and vents keeping her alive. I didn't think we could handle using these things for the new baby, so they are going to a woman's shelter.
The last pile was probably the hardest. This pile contained everything we had and wanted to save of our daughter. Her baby book, her footprints, her bag of hair that they cut off in the Hospital to treat her bed sores. The outfit that we originally brought her home in. Balloons that people had sent after she was born saying "It's a Girl!" Presents that were sent to our house after we had left for the hospital that we had never opened. Her princess bear and unicorn that were on her window sill in the hospital. The hair bows we changed every day. The blanket that she had been wrapped in after she died and we held her for hours. The newspaper articles written about her. The guestbook from the funeral. Dan and I sorted all of these things and more and put most of them away into a bin in the garage and the rest in the memory box that is now sitting on a shelf in our living room. I think that was the hardest part for me - my daughter's life fits into a bin and a small box. It hurts.
But we got it done. And next weekend, we will finish the room as best we can for this rainbow that will be here very, very soon. I was planning on writing more tonight but I will have to continue tomorrow. My back is yelling at me to go lie down and I figure I better listen, especially after I had to spend some time yesterday having a non-stress test at the hospital. (Everything was fine - the baby is usually a wiggle monster and was barely moving. I wanted to be safe rather than sorry.)
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Another Flashback
I literally think that I'm living in some sort of warped universe where time has slown down just to torture me. It's only been two weeks since Naya's birthday. It feels like an eternity. Everyday is just dragging on and I am tired, not only mentally but physically, since I am nearing the end of this pregnancy during this mentally draining time period. That only adds on to the stress. I am 35 weeks and 3 days right now and carrying a large baby (they are guessing about 2lbs bigger than either of my other children). My body is sore, my mind is polluted and I am just plain tired. I would really, really like this month to end. I am so tired of being patient.
However, yesterday was Ty's 11th birthday and that was a happy distraction. He went to the water park with his summer program during the day and we went for sushi afterwards, followed by a special birthday apple pie. (All his choices - yes, my son has interesting tastes.) We spent a lot of time shopping for special presents that meant a lot to him and he loved every second of his birthday. It was nice to hear that it was the best birthday ever and I don't think it was just the hormones speaking. Last year, his birthday was awful. We were in Santa Barbara and Naya was not doing very well. We were able to sneak out of the hospital for a dinner the day before but we didn't have time to get him gifts or anything. He got a card with cash because my little sister took him to Disneyland on his actual birthday. I didn't even get to see him that day and this year, I felt we had so much to make up for. It hate thinking about how I didn't get to make his debut into the double digits special for him. It hurts. I know he understood that we did our best in the worst of circumstances but it still hurts.
That brings me to today. Along with the emotions that always seem to come after a significant day, today was very hard for another reason. One year ago today was the day that Naya was airlifted to LA from Santa Barbara. I feel like I've relived that day over and over again in my head today. I feel like it was just yesterday - I can't believe it was a freaking year ago. I remember walking into the hospital that morning and the nurse that was on duty freaking out because her blood pressure was super low and she couldn't bring it up. I remember panicking along with her and wondering what the hell was happening - my baby was supposed to be getting better, at least that's what they had told me. I remember the attending coming and talking to us and telling us they were transferring her down to LA because she might need dialysis. (I didn't know it at the time but they were thinking she needed to be on ECMO, something that they didn't end up doing because she was too sick. ECMO is essentially a sort of dialysis system for your heart and lungs. It's crazy and scary and a last resort option. It is so ironic to me that she was to sick to go on ECMO. Here's a link if you are curious as to what it is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extracorporeal_membrane_oxygenation. I had no idea this existed until we were in the NICU.)
I remember waiting for them to decide how they were going to make the transfer. It went back and forth from ambulance to helicopter for awhile. They eventually decided to use a helicopter and we waited for the team to arrive from LA. While we were waiting, Dan went to the place we were staying and packed up our stuff, since we weren't allowed in the chopper and were going to drive our car down to LA. The team got there and they loaded up Naya for transport, with my sobbing the whole time. Dan and I walked with them out to the ambulance that was waiting to take them to the airport, where the helicopter would take off. We said goodbye to our baby and watched them drive away. It was one of the most heart wrenching moments of my life. After they left, we got in our car and began the 100 mile drive to LA - at 5:00 on Tuesday. If you know anything about Southern California traffic, you know that means a fun time. The worst part was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 101 just outside of Santa Barbara and watching that blue helicopter come from behind us and fly to the South. We watched it in tears until we couldn't see it anymore.
It took us around 3 hours to make that 100 mile drive. Luckily, one of the nurses on the transport team had taken my number and called us both when they landed and also when she was settled in her room to let us know her status. We were able to see her that night and meet a couple of her wonderful primary nurses that would spend the next month caring for her. We also had to scramble to find a place to stay, as there was no room in the Ronald McDonald House for us. Funny story though - the hospital had just moved into their newly built building and offered to let us stay in the old hospital, which was empty, for the night. We politely declined. (We ended up staying with one of my sisters friends who lived in West Hollywood.)
Wow. Writing all that seems like I am describing a scene out of a movie. Sometimes, it's hard for me to believe we experienced what we did. Even now, looking back a year later, it still seems so surreal.
However, yesterday was Ty's 11th birthday and that was a happy distraction. He went to the water park with his summer program during the day and we went for sushi afterwards, followed by a special birthday apple pie. (All his choices - yes, my son has interesting tastes.) We spent a lot of time shopping for special presents that meant a lot to him and he loved every second of his birthday. It was nice to hear that it was the best birthday ever and I don't think it was just the hormones speaking. Last year, his birthday was awful. We were in Santa Barbara and Naya was not doing very well. We were able to sneak out of the hospital for a dinner the day before but we didn't have time to get him gifts or anything. He got a card with cash because my little sister took him to Disneyland on his actual birthday. I didn't even get to see him that day and this year, I felt we had so much to make up for. It hate thinking about how I didn't get to make his debut into the double digits special for him. It hurts. I know he understood that we did our best in the worst of circumstances but it still hurts.
That brings me to today. Along with the emotions that always seem to come after a significant day, today was very hard for another reason. One year ago today was the day that Naya was airlifted to LA from Santa Barbara. I feel like I've relived that day over and over again in my head today. I feel like it was just yesterday - I can't believe it was a freaking year ago. I remember walking into the hospital that morning and the nurse that was on duty freaking out because her blood pressure was super low and she couldn't bring it up. I remember panicking along with her and wondering what the hell was happening - my baby was supposed to be getting better, at least that's what they had told me. I remember the attending coming and talking to us and telling us they were transferring her down to LA because she might need dialysis. (I didn't know it at the time but they were thinking she needed to be on ECMO, something that they didn't end up doing because she was too sick. ECMO is essentially a sort of dialysis system for your heart and lungs. It's crazy and scary and a last resort option. It is so ironic to me that she was to sick to go on ECMO. Here's a link if you are curious as to what it is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extracorporeal_membrane_oxygenation. I had no idea this existed until we were in the NICU.)
I remember waiting for them to decide how they were going to make the transfer. It went back and forth from ambulance to helicopter for awhile. They eventually decided to use a helicopter and we waited for the team to arrive from LA. While we were waiting, Dan went to the place we were staying and packed up our stuff, since we weren't allowed in the chopper and were going to drive our car down to LA. The team got there and they loaded up Naya for transport, with my sobbing the whole time. Dan and I walked with them out to the ambulance that was waiting to take them to the airport, where the helicopter would take off. We said goodbye to our baby and watched them drive away. It was one of the most heart wrenching moments of my life. After they left, we got in our car and began the 100 mile drive to LA - at 5:00 on Tuesday. If you know anything about Southern California traffic, you know that means a fun time. The worst part was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 101 just outside of Santa Barbara and watching that blue helicopter come from behind us and fly to the South. We watched it in tears until we couldn't see it anymore.
It took us around 3 hours to make that 100 mile drive. Luckily, one of the nurses on the transport team had taken my number and called us both when they landed and also when she was settled in her room to let us know her status. We were able to see her that night and meet a couple of her wonderful primary nurses that would spend the next month caring for her. We also had to scramble to find a place to stay, as there was no room in the Ronald McDonald House for us. Funny story though - the hospital had just moved into their newly built building and offered to let us stay in the old hospital, which was empty, for the night. We politely declined. (We ended up staying with one of my sisters friends who lived in West Hollywood.)
Wow. Writing all that seems like I am describing a scene out of a movie. Sometimes, it's hard for me to believe we experienced what we did. Even now, looking back a year later, it still seems so surreal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)