Terrible Twos

Oliver turns two in a few weeks, but he is already hitting The Terrible Twos. He is doing better at communicating, but it is still tricky to find out what he wants fast enough - before he freaks out. A few days ago he was saying, "boo-bee" and we couldn't figure out what he wanted. After much trial and error we found out that he was saying "blueberry" because he wanted a strawberry (and that's what he calls all berries). Tricky, right?

Two weeks

Two weeks ago Oliver was rocking back and forth, pushing himself backward on the floor. One day he started crawling and it seemed the very next, he pulled himself to stand by the couch. Within the last few days he has begun to "cruise" alongside the couch, grabbing at pillows, toys, books, and anything within reach. This video is from two weeks ago - in his pre-crawling stage.

He loves playing in the sunbeam, watching his shadow and soaking in the Vitamin D. Me too.

Blogging for Graham's Foundation!

I've been getting the itch to write lately. Maybe it's the more regular sleep patterns? The feeling that my writing is getting rusty? The desire to do a little more outside the realm of motherhood? A few weeks ago, I applied to be a blogger for a nonprofit foundation that supports families of preemies. It's something that I'm passionate about and have experience with (and that I can do from home - bonus!), and apparently they agreed too. My first post went live today...

http://grahamsfoundation.org/blog.html?fb_18405866_anch=32861311

I'll be posting something about preemies, preemie parenthood, or related issues once a week. You'll get to see lots of embarrassing photos of me in a hospital gown, so stay tuned!

Nine months later.

OK so it didn't even take nine months to have this baby, but he has officially spent more of his existence outside the womb! Oliver weighed in at 17 lb 7 oz last week at his latest doctor's appointment. That puts him in the 15th percentile for 9-month-olds and 50th percentile for 7-month-olds. I've never been so thrilled to have an average child.

Oliver's hair looks a lot like Bruce's did, but people still comment on his strawberry blonde hair. Oliver still has those baby blue eyes, so they appear to be a permanent fixture. He looks like his siblings, but this guy has his own look too.

Oliver is my clingiest baby by far. He has a strong preference for me and will even cry if Scott holds him while sitting next to me. He loves to eat, but still doesn't have any teeth. He can scoot backward, push up and and get in crawling position, and launch himself forward a bit. He isn't crawling, but is getting closer every day.

He was sleeping well for awhile, then I must have bragged about it because he regressed. He seems to be getting back into a normal sleep routine again, but I'm not going to brag about it anymore.

Raymond Family weekend

  

Two weekends ago we had lots of family in town for Bruce's baptism on Saturday and Oliver's baby blessing on Sunday. 

We had a full house plus the Raymonds occupied a friend's place. This was a typical scene: Valerie dressed in an apron and looking through a cookbook, Phoebe "helping" (here, she is stirring filling for a blueberry pie), Nancy and Leslie playing a game, and Mark and Grandpa Bruce shucking corn.

My nephew, Sam, also came for the weekend. Lana was a champ and played this Boston-themed Monopoly game with them.

Oliver was always in someone's arms, which he was just fine with. He loves to be loved.

And he loves to be fed and burped.

Bruce's baptism on Saturday was wonderful. He selected the program: the songs, speakers, prayers, and refreshments. I said the invocation, his grandpas gave brief talks about baptism and the Holy Ghost, and he wanted Phoebe to say the closing prayer. She bagged out at the last minute because she was hoping for a microphone and wasn't satisfied that it was just a podium at the front of the room. Grandma Mars filled in at the last minute.

Before the baptism, Bruce had a little chat with the Primary president (the leader of the organization for kids under 12 years old at church). She gave him a dry erase board and told him to write down his thoughts during the baptism. As you can see, he is doing away with "wrongs."

After the baptism, we took lots of pictures with family and chowed on Bruce's chosen refreshments: blueberry muffins, fruit, ginger-chocolate cupcakes, and Oreos (yes, Oreos at 10 a.m.). Scott's three sisters and younger brother and parents all flew in to be with us for the occasion. My parents and nephew came as well.

Afterward, I asked Bruce how he felt. He gave me one hyphenated word: "warm-hearted."

This is the first time Scott and his siblings have all been together in awhile. They're already making plans for a family trip next year.

Sunday was Oliver's day to shine. He wore a white gown that Grandma Mars found for him; when I pulled out Bruce's old blessing outfit, it didn't fit Oliver. Oliver was blessed at church surrounded by friends and family. Phoebe really wanted to be involved; mostly, she wanted to show off "her baby." So after the  blessing, Phoebe rushed up front and helped Scott hoist Oliver up and then carry him back to our pew.

The whole weekend left me "warm-hearted" and so thankful for my family. I am so thankful that Bruce is such a good amazing kid that thinks seriously and generally makes good choices. I am thankful that Phoebe is independent, spunky, and so caring toward her brothers. I am thankful that Oliver is here and healthy. I am thankful that Scott finished intern year and his schedule allows him to spend more time with us. I am thankful that our parents were so helpful to us throughout the summer and were able to be with us this weekend.

Life is good, so good.

Blink

 I blinked and Oliver is now two months old. My mom came and went, Oliver got his two-month immunizations, he surpassed six pounds and then seven, and made it past his due date.

 Oliver is gaining weight rapidly, which means he is constantly eating.

He's so cute though, that I find myself filling memory cards with pictures of him. 

Life is so good.

I'm resorting to my phone to update the blog just to post something. Oliver is busy growing and growing - sleeping and eating. He was 7 lb, 2 oz last Friday. He gained a half-pound in a week! He eats day and night, so we aren't getting much sleep. But we are sooooo happy to have him home that sleep hardly matters. My dad always said, "You can't run on love" when trying to convince my siblings and me to eat breakfast before running out the door. And while I'm getting a good breakfast every morning, love seems to make up for the lack of sleep. 

Very Happy Independence Day

Last week I hit my breaking point with the NICU. We surpassed 40-something days and I ran out of patience. Thankfully, the end was near. On July 2, we were informed that Oliver could go home the next day if he remained spell-free for another 24 hours. I tried not to get my hopes up (remembering my experience with Phoebe), but still went to the store and stocked up on enough diapers and wipes for the apocalypse.

Wednesday rolled around and I went into the hospital like I always do. He made it to 12:30 p.m., the time he had last had a spell five days earlier. Once he made it, the nurse finally unplugged his monitor and untethered him. It was so nice to hold him without worrying about tripping over wires or losing the signal on his leads. After signing a bunch of paperwork, we loaded him into the car and headed home!

 Oliver is definitely the center of attention.

 The kids couldn't get enough of him.

 Phoebe gave him her pink blankie and kept bringing him stuffed animals and toys.

The next day, July 4, we celebrated mostly at home. We went to the park for a few minutes and then I took Bruce and Phoebe to see the fireworks with a friend while Scott stayed home with Oliver. Happy Independence Day indeed! It was the first day in 10 weeks that we weren't in the hospital.

Now I spend my days staring at him, pinching myself, and feeding him. I spend my nights feeding him too. I've got to give him some cred for sleeping 3-4 hours at a time though; that's already an improvement over my first two.

Yes I'm fine, sort of. Not really.

I think I have been doing pretty well thus far: healing quickly, getting the kids out and about, cooking dinner, trying to be normal. A few days ago some former Bostonian friends of ours stopped by to say hello; they told me they had another friend whose baby was in the NICU and that friend wasn't doing so well. Some other old friends were in town too; they also gave us props for keeping our heads on straight for so long.

I was proud of myself for holding it together. And then I made the mistake of thinking too much.

Oliver has been having spells nearly every day; as I write, I am forcing my brain to not figure out what day is five days from today because I have been disappointed too many times. Scott starts working at MGH on Monday, so our insurance provider will change. With the new insurance, our current hospital will be out-of-network. Because of this, we either have to transfer him to an in-network hospital or pay a nasty deductible. Transferring is not so simple either: insurance companies will only cover a transfer to an equivalent or step-down NICU. Because all the in-network downtown hospitals have top-level NICUs (and the one we are currently at is one step below), the closest in-network equivalent is a 45-60-minute drive. We are opting for the deductible. So this stress has been the backdrop to my week.

I had two doctors appointments this week too, neither of which was remotely enjoyable. I had never been to my primary care doctor; last year I'd randomly selected his name from an insurance directory because he was nearby and I've been otherwise healthy. As it turns out, his office is a sketchy suite next to a dollar store with a welcome sign that reads, "NO NARCOTICS." I had a few questions that he answered with, "I don't know about baby stuff." My other appointment I had rushed to straight from the NICU, only to wait for 1.5 hours before seeing a doctor who performed unnecessary tests.

After that last appointment, I had a total meltdown. It may have had something to do with the fact that I hadn't eaten or pumped for seven hours, but it had a lot more to do with Oliver's frequent spells, my recent bad experiences with crappy doctors, the lousy insurance deductible, the guilt I feel when leaving Bruce and Phoebe, the guilt I feel when leaving Oliver, the feeling that Oliver is growing up without me being there for every moment, and the fact that this situation isn't going to change soon enough. If being in the hospital was my marathon, then being in the NICU is like discovering that I wasn't just registered for a marathon - now I'm in an Ironman triathlon. I'm somewhere in the 2.4-mile swim, and since I'm hitting the wall I'm drowning.

Thankfully, the lifeguard is on her way. She has a flight to come save me next week. I'm still hopeful that Oliver will make it home then too.

A few more days...

When, when, when will he come home? Everyone wants to know.

Not for another five days (at least). He had another spell last night, which puts him home on Sunday the 30th at the earliest. If he has another spell today, tomorrow, whenever though, it's another five days. Booooo.

Our health insurance provider switches on July 1, so I was really hoping to have this whole hospital experience wrapped up by then. We shall see.

The Oliver Update

Oliver is four weeks "old" today, but still not due for another four weeks. He is still working on waking up enough to eat a legit amount by mouth; he is starting his feeds, but rarely finishing them, so we still have some work to do. He just needs to eat by mouth enough to gain weight and be "spell-free" for five straight days to go home. Being spell-free means not having any episodes where the heart rate and blood oxygen saturation drop abruptly. We are on Day Two, but we aren't getting our hopes up just yet.

We are eager to get him home. I get super-grouchy if I don't get my Oliver Time and I can't seem to make plans beyond a day or two, so Scott wants him home so I can get my brain back (sortof). Scott has been nesting - repainting the living room, installing shelving - and whenever he asks my opinion on interior decor, I don't have much response. I just can't get myself to care about the living room walls right now, so Scott has free reign on design around here.

 Oliver is up to 4 pounds, 14 ounces.

And because Oliver cries so infrequently, I had to record it. It's still quiet and (to me) sounds beautiful. 

We are family.

NICU Mama

I feel like a NICU veteran. This is not a role I ever aspired to, but one I have been given - and it comes with some benefits. I get to interact with other "NICU moms," most of whom are new at the NICU thing. I feel like we are part of a sisterhood and I have something to contribute. Today another mom and I joked about the vast amount of time feeding our preemies (it's terribly inefficient: pump breastmilk for 15-20 minutes, bottle and label it 5 minutes, wash equipment 10 minutes, mix extra calories into it 5 minutes, feed it back to baby 20-30 minutes. Repeat every 2-3 hours). Another mom told me about her daughter's apnea episodes and how scared she was when her daughter stopped breathing and how frustrated she was that it seemed they would never go home. Phoebe had the same issues, so I shared a little of our history and we talked about apnea monitors for awhile. I just feel sorry for the NICU moms; most of them were completely blind-sided, whereas I had the advantage of anticipating this trial.

The nurses call Oliver a "rockstar." He is really doing well considering his, um, youth. He is 34.5 weeks now, just over 4 pounds, and finally has the coordination to suck and swallow. He is eating 3 of his 8 feeds by mouth every day, and once he can do all 8 we can head home.

Oliver hit another milestone this week: he graduated from a closed box-like isolette to an open air crib. He can now regulate his body temperature. And see that little green folder on the counter behind him? It's full of discharge paperwork. It will probably still be another week or two, but he is headed in that direction. Tonight Grandma, Scott, Bruce, Phoebe and I sat down to watch a movie. Phoebe said, "Our whole family is on the couch!" Then 30 seconds later she said, "Actually, something's missing: my baby Oliver." We all want him home.

I had to get a picture of this awesome sign. Bruce and Phoebe made this (with the help of Grandma Raymond, I'm sure) to welcome me home from the hospital a few weeks ago. Coming home after being in the hospital for so long was wonderful and strange. When I went into the hospital in April, there were buds on the trees. When I came out, there were green leaves everywhere. Somehow the whole world looked different - better. The day after I was discharged from the hospital, I went to church. During sacrament meeting, the congregation sang "The Lord Is My Shepherd" and Scott had to locate some tissues for me. The third verse sums up nicely how I feel:

"In the midst of affliction my table is spread.
With blessings unmeasured my cup runneth o'er.
With perfume and oil thou anointest my head.
Oh, what shall I ask of thy providence more?
Oh, what shall I ask of thy providence more?"

Growth

Oliver is up to a whopping 3 pounds, 12 ounces today. Growth is slow-going (or so it seems), but it is heading in the correct direction. This week we have been teaching Oliver to open his mouth correctly - with his tongue out and down rather than stuck to the roof of his mouth. We also tried breastfeeding with some success. He is still getting the hang of sucking and swallowing, but progressing well. Now he needs to beef up a bit so he has the energy to wake up and eat by mouth.

Bulking up is easier said than done. He is "eating" via the tube in his nose; every three hours he gets about 1.5 ounces of breastmilk mixed with formula powder to add calories, plus a little extra protein powder (he really is trying to bulk up!). Oliver sleeps almost the entire day, and the nurses like it that way: he is using all those calories to grow rather than to wiggle around or cry. I've only heard him cry 4-5 times since he's been born, and by the time I grab the camera he's done crying. He has a very quiet cry though - like a little lamb.

Yesterday we took advantage of the nice weather and headed to the beach. We met up with Miss J, who I'm told still talks about me but appeared much more interested in Phoebe. Granted, Phoebe was way more playful than I was; I sat in a beach chair under an umbrella almost the entire time. Phoebe ran around collecting shells, climbing rocks, and splashing in shallow tidal pools.

 Bruce helped build a sand castle city with a group of kids, found shells and even a live crab, did a little swimming, and got in a water fight with grandma.

Speaking of grandma, she is doing a fantastic job keeping up with Phoebe's playdates, Bruce's school schedule, and my recovery. Just in the past few days she has made butterhorn rolls, a pineapple upside down cake, blueberry pie, picnic brownies, and pasta salad.

The New Normal

We are finally settling into some sort of routine. After Bruce heads off to school with Grandma Raymond and Phoebe, I hitch a ride to the hospital and hang out with Oliver during school hours. Oliver was wide awake this morning (it was during his "feed" so he's getting grub via that tube in his nose), and completely calm. Mostly I sit by his bedside, pump milk every 2-3 hours, and just watch his every breath. It doesn't get old. Every three hours, I get to take his temperature and change his diaper. Sometimes I get to hold him too.

After my morning fix, I head home and attempt to do something with Bruce and Phoebe. Yesterday I wasn't very successful: I ended up taking a nap while the kids went to the park and then played. Thanks to Grandma Raymond, the kids get their wiggles out when my wiggles are long gone.

Action

Phoebe is very excited to have a baby brother. She enjoyed singing to him today.

A few photos

 I finally got the cable for my camera so I can download a few non-camera-phone photos. I came across a few gems, including this one of me and Bruce...

 ...and this one of me in the final hours of labor. This was the night Oliver was born just after the last IV was placed and before the doctor declared we were heading into the OR. That face says it all.

And this face is much cuter, and makes the past few weeks/months of craziness worth it. Speaking of crazy, remember that nasty rash that magically appeared? It magically disappeared an hour or two after Oliver was born. Ahhhh, relief all around.

Presenting Mr. Oliver Mars Raymond

He is here! He arrived at 2:05 this morning after a combined 90 hours of labor, 4 IVs, almost two dozen blood draws, 22 days of hospital bed rest, 35 pounds gained, 5 moves between labor and postpartum floors, and at exactly 32 weeks gestational age. Oliver Mars Raymond weighed in at 3 lb. 7 oz. and measured 14 inches long. And this tiny guy is worth every bit of the trouble.

Yesterday morning I started bleeding a lot more than usual, which in the past few weeks has usually signaled the start of another bout of crazy - meaning fresh IV, hours of contractions, etc. Most of the day was peaceful: my nurse wheeled me outside for some fresh air, I finally toured the NICU, and I went through my inbox and deleted emails dated back to 2007.

Around 5 p.m., contractions started up again. I figured it was another false alarm, so I didn't bother Scott; he was at work until 10. I'd told him I'd call if and only if I was having a baby. My friend, Mithu, stopped by the hospital around 7 to visit and we chatted through contractions. They continued to get more intense and closer together. The doctor came in and declared that I was dilating and progressing, and was looking like I was going to have a baby. So I texted Scott around 9; I figured I'd call at 10. There's still time, right?

He texted back one word: "coming."

The nurse decided I needed an IV and set about placing it. To her credit, the nurse did about everything she could to find a decent vein: she put warm packs on my arms, looked them over carefully, had me make fists and slapped my arms up and down, called in a second opinion. But it still took three pokes to get it in; Mithu got to see me freak out, sweat with fear, and claw at her arm with my free hand. Scott walked in around then and Mithu left, thoroughly traumatized by childbirth forevermore I'm sure.

Scott and I hunkered down for more contractions. We waited for them to stall out like every other time, but they just kept getting worse and worse. I remembered all those ridiculous childbirth books I'd read and actually employed some relaxation techniques, so I guess they weren't a complete waste?! As much as it all hurt, I was still thankful for the experience of it all; it's what trillions of women have gone through and I wanted to be a part of it. Now I can check it off my bucket list.

Just after midnight, the doctor gave up on labor stalling out and delivery was planned. The doctor on-call wasn't the doctor I'd seen throughout my pregnancy and didn't feel comfortable attempting a VBAC with my two prior C-sections, so preparations were made for another C-section.

I wasn't crying through contractions, but I started at the thought of another C-section. I had figured things would go that way, but I still held onto the dream of having a normal birth and bouncing back to motherhood and running and the fast lane of life. Not to be. I was rolled to the operating room and prepped.

I scraped together any shred of bravery left in me, but I still couldn't stop shaking when the anesthesiologist shoved the needle in my back. The first poke made my left leg flail. A second poke and I started going numb from the chest down. I was rolled onto the operating table and the sterile field set up atop me with the blue curtain in front of my face.

Scott had to sit in the hall while they poked me, but he came in and held my hand once I was flat on my back. The doctors got right to work. I didn't feel the cutting, but just lots of tugging - like a dozen people were putting their hands in my belly and yanking a dozen different directions. Scott supervised while giving me a decent hand massage.

When the doctor pulled Oliver out, I felt it. A few minutes earlier I'd felt his every kick and hiccup, and even though I was numb I felt an instant emptiness that even the anesthetic couldn't cover up. I was sad that the pregnancy was over, but relieved too. Like I said, this was one long marathon. I'm just glad he's here.

He let out a good cry, which made me cry; it's so comforting to hear a good cry because it means good lungs. Oliver was a little blue at first, but pinked up quickly while the doctor worked on him. Oliver got an oxygen mask and worked hard to breathe at first, but made quick progress. He looks absolutely perfect and in his first 24 hours is already weaned off the oxygen mask. He will be in the NICU for at least a few weeks; we will see what develops in the next few days. Thus far though, he is doing very well.

The doctor stitched me back together. She said the placenta looked "small and old," which sounds familiar and makes me think it might be to blame for all this drama. I need something to blame, yes?

Thanks for everyone's prayers. It is a miracle that he survived for so long in the deteriorating environment he was in, and it is a miracle that he is doing as well as he is right now. Thanks for the thoughts, silly emails, packages, and service.

Baby Shower - blast from the past

 I had a baby shower! It was left undocumented for a bit because it happened the day before my water broke - seriously just in time. There was plenty of amazing brunch food, cute nursery-rhyme-themed decor, and a crowd of my favorite people.

 My friend, Aimee, led everyone in a little nursery rhyme game. She is English and somehow knows all these obscure nursery rhymes, so she was the ringleader along with another friend, Kristen.

 We got lots of baby clothes, a car seat (as it turns out, the one I used with Bruce and Phoebe expired!), diapers, and lots of thoughtful cards. It was wonderful to feel the support of my friends and, looking back, almost feels like a farewell party since I went to the hospital about 18 hours later.