where do i begin?
Unfortunately, the best day ever was followed by five of the scariest days ever. We were overjoyed to have Mason discharged from the hospital! "Finally! Our family is together!" were the words I kept repeating. Bringing him home was so exciting, and I finally felt like Mason's mom. However, he's had problems. Not problems like, "Oh man, my baby has his days and nights mixed up!" or, "Wow, he just wants to eat all the time!" This problem was more like, "Umm, my baby isn't breathing... he just went completely limp... I'm pretty sure he is turning blue..."
Sound scary? Yeah, it is. Terrifying, actually. Since he had been doing this occasionally in the hospital, I had seen the "spells" first-hand, been able to revive him, and had the support and encouragement of a fleet of nurses and doctors. At home it was a different story. In the hospital, this had only been happening once or twice every few days, and the episodes seemed to have almost completely dissipated. I felt comfortable with once or twice every couple days, with the hope of things rapidly getting better. I knew what to do, I knew he'd be ok, and I thought I would, too. But, after five days of my sweet baby becoming lifeless and turning blue four or five times a day, requiring serious (and panicked) stimulation to start breathing again, I knew it was too much. I was sobbing uncontrollably during those scary few days; I was terrified every minute that he'd stop breathing. I dreaded every feeding and felt completely and utterly unequipped to care for Mason.
Yesterday, after Steve left for Phoenix (of course), and after my mom left me for 15 minutes (of course), I began feeding Mason. Side-lying position, horizontal bottle, checking for breathing, rubbing his back, burping every couple minutes, watching the color in his face. Everything I'm supposed to do. All of a sudden, I noticed the signs. I knew he was falling into a spell. I stopped feeding him, began to rub his back, waited for him to catch his breath, but he never started breathing. 10 seconds, 20 seconds... At this point I was starting to panic. Practically yelling his name and whacking his back in case he was choking, I jumped up out of my chair. At this point, Mason was completely blue, unresponsive, limp, and his eyes had rolled into the back of his head. It took him another 20 seconds to breathe. Gasping and crying for 2 minutes after that, he continued to try and recover. That was it. I couldn't do it anymore. Danny was frantic, as he was in the room at the time, shouting, "Baby Mason! Baby Mason! Are you ok!? Mom?!" I immediately called my mom, sobbing, and told her that we needed to take him back to the hospital. Then, I called the NICU directly, and the doctor told me to not bother with the ER and to come straight up.
Once we got there, everyone was very supportive. They knew I wouldn't be there if not for something very serious, and they all felt terrible for me that I had to come back. The nurses and doctors all knew how badly I wanted him to do well at home, but they kept reassuring me that I was doing the right thing. That was the hardest part: feeling like I was doing the right thing. Every imaginable doubt had gone through my mind -- Am I exaggerating? Am I just tired? How long was he really not breathing? Is this something I should be able to handle? I asked these questions over and over again. But, luckily I was greeted with very loving and validating doctors and nurses who all continued to tell me that I was right to bring him back, and that I should never have to deal with what was happening alone.
That brings me to today. Mason is fine, overall. Luckily, he continued to have similar episodes (where he stops breathing, changes color, drops his heart rate, etc) through the night and throughout the day so the nurses can evaluate more accurately what is going on. He had an occupational therapist analyze his bottle-feeding today, and her opinion was that Mason has a reflux problem -- common in babies, but in preemies it can be more serious as it can create a bubble in the back of their throat that rests on a nerve and stops his ability to breathe. I don't know if that's all of it, but that was one opinion. As I've learned, everyone has a different opinion, and it's good (and sometimes bad) that there are many eyes to watch and observe.
I know that my prayers (and the prayers of many others) were answered yesterday. Mason did not get better, but he got worse. That was definitely the Lord's way of answering our prayers. He knew that what we were going through was not ok, and He also knew that the only way I'd seek help was if something terribly scary and awful happened. And it did. And I finally looked to others for help. I'm grateful for the strength I had to finally take Mason back to the hospital. It was so hard to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't give him the care he needed, but we are all very relieved to not have that weight of keeping him alive on our shoulders. We are feeling very grateful right now that Mason is back in the NICU where he needs to be. That about wraps it up. Next time he comes home, I hope it is for good -- but until then, we will continue to watch him grow and develop from his bedside at the hospital. Love that baby boy, and love all that have offered words of love and prayers on our behalf.
Sound scary? Yeah, it is. Terrifying, actually. Since he had been doing this occasionally in the hospital, I had seen the "spells" first-hand, been able to revive him, and had the support and encouragement of a fleet of nurses and doctors. At home it was a different story. In the hospital, this had only been happening once or twice every few days, and the episodes seemed to have almost completely dissipated. I felt comfortable with once or twice every couple days, with the hope of things rapidly getting better. I knew what to do, I knew he'd be ok, and I thought I would, too. But, after five days of my sweet baby becoming lifeless and turning blue four or five times a day, requiring serious (and panicked) stimulation to start breathing again, I knew it was too much. I was sobbing uncontrollably during those scary few days; I was terrified every minute that he'd stop breathing. I dreaded every feeding and felt completely and utterly unequipped to care for Mason.
Yesterday, after Steve left for Phoenix (of course), and after my mom left me for 15 minutes (of course), I began feeding Mason. Side-lying position, horizontal bottle, checking for breathing, rubbing his back, burping every couple minutes, watching the color in his face. Everything I'm supposed to do. All of a sudden, I noticed the signs. I knew he was falling into a spell. I stopped feeding him, began to rub his back, waited for him to catch his breath, but he never started breathing. 10 seconds, 20 seconds... At this point I was starting to panic. Practically yelling his name and whacking his back in case he was choking, I jumped up out of my chair. At this point, Mason was completely blue, unresponsive, limp, and his eyes had rolled into the back of his head. It took him another 20 seconds to breathe. Gasping and crying for 2 minutes after that, he continued to try and recover. That was it. I couldn't do it anymore. Danny was frantic, as he was in the room at the time, shouting, "Baby Mason! Baby Mason! Are you ok!? Mom?!" I immediately called my mom, sobbing, and told her that we needed to take him back to the hospital. Then, I called the NICU directly, and the doctor told me to not bother with the ER and to come straight up.
Once we got there, everyone was very supportive. They knew I wouldn't be there if not for something very serious, and they all felt terrible for me that I had to come back. The nurses and doctors all knew how badly I wanted him to do well at home, but they kept reassuring me that I was doing the right thing. That was the hardest part: feeling like I was doing the right thing. Every imaginable doubt had gone through my mind -- Am I exaggerating? Am I just tired? How long was he really not breathing? Is this something I should be able to handle? I asked these questions over and over again. But, luckily I was greeted with very loving and validating doctors and nurses who all continued to tell me that I was right to bring him back, and that I should never have to deal with what was happening alone.
That brings me to today. Mason is fine, overall. Luckily, he continued to have similar episodes (where he stops breathing, changes color, drops his heart rate, etc) through the night and throughout the day so the nurses can evaluate more accurately what is going on. He had an occupational therapist analyze his bottle-feeding today, and her opinion was that Mason has a reflux problem -- common in babies, but in preemies it can be more serious as it can create a bubble in the back of their throat that rests on a nerve and stops his ability to breathe. I don't know if that's all of it, but that was one opinion. As I've learned, everyone has a different opinion, and it's good (and sometimes bad) that there are many eyes to watch and observe.
I know that my prayers (and the prayers of many others) were answered yesterday. Mason did not get better, but he got worse. That was definitely the Lord's way of answering our prayers. He knew that what we were going through was not ok, and He also knew that the only way I'd seek help was if something terribly scary and awful happened. And it did. And I finally looked to others for help. I'm grateful for the strength I had to finally take Mason back to the hospital. It was so hard to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't give him the care he needed, but we are all very relieved to not have that weight of keeping him alive on our shoulders. We are feeling very grateful right now that Mason is back in the NICU where he needs to be. That about wraps it up. Next time he comes home, I hope it is for good -- but until then, we will continue to watch him grow and develop from his bedside at the hospital. Love that baby boy, and love all that have offered words of love and prayers on our behalf.
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