Contemplation

Today my mind was all over the place. It was Weston's two-week birthday, and I realized after my visit with him today that I didn't get any pictures.

Although I can't speak for Shannon, I think we both have done a good job of putting this brain bleed and hydrocephalus thing out of our heads for the moment. There is nothing we can do about it at this point, and we won't know more until next Wednesday, or Tuesday at the earliest. Be anxious for nothing...

However, my mom left this morning. I also made the mistake of thinking about the long haul in the NICU that we have ahead of us, instead of taking it day by day. Those two things, combined with my utter exhaustion, were the cause of a meltdown this morning. My mom has done such a good job of holding down the fort at home and watching Caroline while I pump/sleep/visit or obsess about Weston, not to mention emotionally supporting me, so it's overwhelming to think about how we are going to get along without her. I felt the same way when she left after Caroline was born.

I called the NICU this morning to see how Weston was doing. He had a new nurse, and she said that his blood gas numbers were a little high and that he had been de-satting, so she had increased his oxygen to 57%. That is the highest it's been, to my knowledge, since his birth. After I hung up the phone, I felt like things were moving in the wrong direction with his lungs and was pretty worried about that.

The best ways to handle the NICU experience are paradoxical. With respect to the length of the stay, and the emotional roller coaster and stress that go along with it, parents should really take it day by day. If I were to think about the fact that Weston will be in the NICU for at least 3.5 more months and the countless ups and downs that will accompany his stay, I would completely fall apart (like I did this morning). We really just need to get through today. I write down the date and time on my milk bag labels every time I pump, and that act helps me take it day by day.

On the other hand, with respect to medical progress and setbacks, we need to look at the big picture. I got hung up on this little setback with Weston's oxygen setting this morning and managed to completely freak myself out. Several nurses have also reminded me that it's not the day-to-day weight gain/loss that's important, but the trend over 7-10 days. I have also been reminded that Weston can feel it if I'm stressed, which makes it SO important to go in there with a healthy and peaceful attitude.

When I got to the NICU today for Weston's noon round, I asked the nurse about the de-satting. Normally, oxygen saturation levels in the blood should be at 85% or higher. If it goes below 85%, it means Weston is de-satting. It's not something we want, but it happens all the time. It's just a reality for NICU babies. However, most of Weston's nurses don't bat an eye if he de-sats down to the low 80s or even the high 70s. Weston's nurse today said that he was going below 85, so she turned the oxygen up. So, this just told me that she is more conservative than the other nurses. And by the time I got there, she had already turned his oxygen down to the mid-to-low 40s. She also told me that he is doing "remarkably well," especially given his gestational age.

I ended up staying with Weston from noon until about 2:30 today. After the nurse and I finished his rounds, I pulled up a chair, got comfortable, and cupped my hand around his back for about an hour and a half. I put the quilt down on his incubator so he could sleep, so I really couldn't even see him. I caught up on the news on my phone and read a magazine. It occurred to me that, even though I touch Weston every time I visit, I am usually concentrating on looking at him. Today I could just feel his rhythmic breathing, and it was so peaceful. I don't think he de-satted at all during that time, and his heart rate stayed low and steady. Toward the end of the block of time, he started moving a bit. I peeked in on him, and he was just lying there with his eyes open. I know he can't really see me, but it looked like he was looking at me. It's like he was reminding me to just be present with him and enjoy the moment, because we can't do anything about tomorrow.

So I ended the day feeling more peace about this whole experience again. It is a daily effort, and I have to remind myself to continually ask God for the peace that passes all understanding. Tonight, Shannon, Caroline, and I went out to dinner: something we hadn't done in ages. Shannon and I both have peace that the brain bleed and hydrocephalus will turn out OK, although not necessarily by next Wednesday.
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"Faith is not expected to give complete satisfaction to the intellect. It leaves the intellect suspended in obscurity, without a light proper to its own mode of knowing. Yet it does not frustrate the intellect, or deny it, or destroy it. It pacifies it with a conviction which it knows it can accept quite rationally under the guidance of love. For the act of faith is an act in which the intellect is content to know God by loving Him and accepting His statements about Himself on his own terms. And this assent is quite rational because it is based on the realization that our reason can tell us nothing about God as He actually is in Himself, and on the fact that God Himself is infinite actuality and therefore infinite Truth, Wisdom, Power and Providence, and can reveal Himself with absolute certitude in any manner He pleases, and can certify His own revelation of Himself by external signs."
--Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (Faith)