Preparing for Grace's PDA Surgery

Tomorrow morning Grace will undergo PDA surgery to close her ductus. As I try to process this, I wrestle with conflicting emotions. The rationale-thinking teacher side of me reasons that this is fairly common surgery for premature babies. Everything Jeni and I have read indicates that this surgery has a high success rate and that children tolerate it well. Our doctor does not seem overly concerned about it. The nurses at St. Joe's don't seem terribly worried either. I've been told by some that this surgery has been likened to a tonsillectomy. Many people I know have undergone a wide array of surgeries and have been just fine. Jeni and I have had surgeries before and we're fine. Ben Sheets and Yovanni Gallardo, along with many members of my beloved Milwaukee Brewers have had surgeries, and return to playing professional baseball in a a matter of weeks. Surgery is just a part of the medical repertoire and is used to make people well.

Rational Will processes this information, looks at Grace's symptoms, notices that Grace is clearly uncomfortable on the breathing tube and thinks, "Thank God we are living in an age where we can do things to help these kids." This surgery could be the best thing to happen to Grace and a step in the right direction in aiding in her respiratory system's development and, ultimately, getting her home.

Surgery deals with anesthesia. Surgery deals with scalpels and cutting. Surgery leaves scars. Surgery is yuck! Over the past 19 days, I've realized that being a parent is not always rationale. Being a parent means constant worry, and for me, this worry centers around two very little people, the combined weight of which is less than 5 pounds, meaning that their combined weight is 1/12th the weight of Maggie our black lab. While I'm no math teacher, we can infer that these girls are teeny tiny!

Grace herself is a mere 2 pounds, 2 ounces. Grace is less than 3 weeks old. I have not held Grace yet. Grace looks fragile. Grace IS fragile. Grace is too small and too young to need surgery. There are possible complications with the surgery. And then the "what ifs" come, and we won't even go there.

So, tomorrow morning, I will go to St. Joe's with Jeni. We will sign the papers that need to be signed. We will visit with Grace. We will say a prayer. We will try to think rationally. We are parents- and admittedly, have challenges keeping sheerly to the logical/rationale side of things, so, chances are, we will worry.

As with anything in life, being in balance is important, and while it is hard to do so, striking a balance between the logical outcomes based on medical statistics and the emotional worry-based fears of being new parents will need to meet in the middle with, chances are, and Lord willing, a worrisome day for Mom and Dad which will result in a step in the right direction for Grace.

Embarrassing moments and Surgery news (or lack there of)

As a teacher, it drives me a little bit crazy when kids leave stuff behind in the classroom. A sweatshirt here, a shoe there (though I never quite understand when there's only one shoe), books, folders, etc. I must pick up at least 10-15 pencils off the floor on any given day. I feel like I'm forever holding stuff up in the air waiting for the owner to claim it. In reality, it's a bit hypocritical, as I tend to leave a trail behind me. As my wonderful husband can attest, I have a variety of things strewn about the house, often prompting a statement to the effect of, "Are we now keeping the ____________ (shoes, coffee mugs, magazines) in/on the _________________ (kitchen table, desk, etc.)?" Ok, well I don't actually leave my shoes on the kitchen table, but you get the idea. Needless to say, neither he nor I were surprised when a nurse from the antepartum unit brought over a bag of my stuff. Upon inspection, I was horrified to find a bag full of my "unmentionables" that she had packed up for me after my departure from the hospital last week. Swift move, Jeni.

When I was a kid, I always believed that there was a simple cure for all medical issues. You have a headache, take a Tylenol; a stomachache, some Pepto will cure it. As an adult, you begin to realize that there are very few cut and dry issues when dealing with a person's health and well-being. Throughout my entire pregnancy, I had to cope with the unknown factors. I had to constantly explain to people that if I could actually get to the point of being inpatient in the hospital, then I might be there for anywhere from one day to eight weeks. It never really made sense to people, I believe, and how could it really? Between one day and eight weeks? That's a pretty wide span of time. This was a huge gray area for Will and I to work with. Now that our girls are here, the gray areas don't even begin to stop. The echocardiogram from yesterday showed that Hope no longer had an open ductus, but all her symptoms are still there. Apparently the thing can open and close at will and was closed at the time of the echo. But, for now at least, she's saved from the surgery. The doctors and nurses will continue to watch and see what happens with it. Whatever the final outcome may be, I'm very pleased that my baby girl does not need the surgery at this point!

Luckily a bag of underwear was not my only gift at the hospital tonight. Hope is now also off the bili lights just like her sister. Both girls are doing well and no surgery is needed right away. The big event for today is that they began their feedings. Since they are nowhere near being ready for suckling, a tube is stuck down into their tummies and the milk gets shot in from a syringe. These feedings lasted approximately eight seconds, but Mom and Dad were there, camera and all, making a huge deal of the whole thing.

Finally, the most exciting news for the day is that we'll be able to kangaroo with the girls hopefully beginning tomorrow if they're stable. Kangarooing is basically a marathon session of holding an infant skin on skin, lasting anywhere from one to three hours. I cannot believe how excited I am to hold my baby girls again after not being able to except for a few minutes after birth. For Dad, this will be his first time.
It's such an easy thing to take for granted that after your child's birth you will be able to hold them whenever you/they want. For us, it's an incredible blessing.

Tummy Time

Just when we thought our daughters couldn't look any cuter, the nurses rolled them both over onto their tummies today. Hope seemed incredibly content to be on her tummy and have her arms and legs all bundled up. The nurses seemed pleased, too, as she wasn't nearly as squirmy as usual. During our evening visit tonight, Grace graduated from being under the bili lights and was swaddled and looking adorable. Ahh... such small things bring us great joy.

Today also brought good news from the doctor. Both girls gained about 2 ounces, which is two servings of Baked Lays, since birth and are looking good. The doctor is pleased with their progress and if he's pleased, we're pleased. While it still looks like Hope will need a PDA ligation (Grace continues to be a maybe), Will and I have finally come to grips with that fact. This surgery has been likened to an appendectomy and having a tooth pulled, so I suppose it's time to try to relax about it. However, we've learned our first parenting lesson: Things that sound very minor for other people's children are huge when involving your own child(ren).

Our Feisty Daughters

The good news for today is that Grace's head ultrasound, too, looks good. As suspected, like her sister, Grace has a PDA. She had her first dose of medication today and we're waiting anxiously to see how things go. Unfortunately, like most medical conditions, it doesn't look like we will know right away if the girls' PDAs are going to close or not. That's how things seem to be in the NICU, lots of "wait and see." As such, we're waiting to see how Hope responds to the medication, although there has been no change at this point. After tomorrow, she'll get another echocardiogram to determine if/how the medication is working.

After our doctor examined Grace today and came over to give us the report, he mentioned, "her blood pressures have looked good, she's breathing room air, she's a pistol, I tweaked her sugars and lipids..." It cracked me up that right in there, with all of her medical stuff, "she's a pistol." Well, we tend to agree with this statement. Grace squirms and stretches and does her little exercises all day long. While Grace seemed to be our feisty child, calm little Hope has joined her in the last couple of days. She's "a wild child" according to the nurses. I hope that this means that our two girls are little fighters! If they're like their mom and dad, I have a feeling that they will be. Both girls have taken pacifiers which helps to mellow them out a bit, but we know that in spirit, they are both just as feisty as ever.

Today, I got to join my hubby in the ranks of diaper changes. There are very few parents out there that get excited about "getting" to change diapers, but Will and I are exceptions to this rule. When you are barely allowed to handle your child (for very good reasons, mind you), changing diapers is a privilege. Not only did I get to change Hope, but also sponge out her mouth with some sort of tasty mint solution, which was adorable watching her lick her lips contentedly, and take her temperature (underarm, thankfully).

Pampers preemie diapers worn by Hope and Grace
(photo from http://www.flikr.com)