One day at a time

Heath and I have been looking back at a lot of pictures from our "NICU" stays.  It was such a nightmare of a situation that I can't remember a whole lot about it.  It all seems so blurry.  I was in survival mode.  After losing one baby, then the very next day watching my second and last baby start getting sick with the same horrible thing and in that moment saying to myself, "Okay heavenly father, if you have to take Mason too I guess I will just have to figure he needed to be with his brother, but I'm going to be right here fighting for him to stay".  That moment while we were still at the NICU in Ogden and got word that the best thing for Mason at that time was for him to be transferred to Primarys.  I looked at Heaths face and pure horror came across his face.  He wanted to walk out and he said I cant do this again.  I looked at him and said I know, but we have to do it for Mason.  We stayed by Mason's side from here on out.  Blood work, fine we will stay.  IV, yes we were right there with him.  Blood transfusion, EKG, central line (we couldn't stay for that, but we would have).  I remember calling my mom and telling her Mase was being transferred.  She kept saying, NO. No.  Are you serious?  You could imagine the shock.  My brother Mark called and I said, yes we are going right now by ambulance.  I can't remember exactly, but it seems like our families were gathered in the waiting room at Primary's when we got there.  The same exact place where they had gathered the night before.

This is a picture of Mason the morning after we lost Boston, before we knew he was getting sick.

We were sent by ambulance to SLC.  I remember walking out of the hospital following my baby in his isolete being wheeled by the Primary team thinking is this really happening?  I had no idea the long road that we were just about to journey down.  What we had been through the previous day was enough to send one over the edge, but here we had to put ourselves a side and be strong for Mason.  I started out sitting in the back  of the ambulance with my baby while Heath was up with the driver.  We didn't get out of the parking lot before I had a wave of nausea come over me and had to switch Heath.  That was the longest ride of my entire life.  It was about 6pm and the city lights were too much for my bloodshot eyes.  The driver tried to make small talk to keep my mind off things.  He was a sweet man.  We finally made it to Primary's and Mason was wheeled into the very hall where we just had left the previous night after saying our final goodbyes to Boston.  I didn't want to ever see that place again, but again I had to.  For Mason.  

That night was L.O.N.G.  and the scariest night of my life not knowing if I was going to leave this hospital with no baby in tow.  We had arrived at Primary's just in time.  Mason started showing progressively worse signs.  He had a bloody stool, his blood gas levels were rising to scary levels, he was so pale, and started crying unconsolably.  The nurses would push on his stomach and he would wail out in pain.  They gave him pain meds to help calm him down.  In the meantime, watching Heath holding Mason while he was screaming with tears running down his face was one of the saddest things I have ever seen.  That was Heath's breaking point.  

The surgery team was prepping us for surgery so he would be ready if and when the bowel perforated.  They took at KUB (stomach x-ray) every 2 hours.  At midnight the x-ray didn't show any signs of improvement, but didn't look worse.  A relief.  The x-ray at 2 am would be critical in the actions that would follow.  Our families were still in the waiting room waiting to hear any word.   I would've loved to have heard the conversations in that room.  We would go out and update them, then go right back into Mason.  TWO am came and the technician came to do the x-ray.  Mason had calmed down at this point and was sleeping soundly.  The nurse that night made the comment that he was starting to look better and I couldn't help to agree. 

A MIRACLE HAPPENED.

The x-ray showed improvement and the Nurse Practitioner and Doctor on call said by the looks of it we had turned a corner!  We were ecstatic!  They said surgery team would still keep their eye on him, but that at this point in time it didn't look like we would be going down that road.  I will never forget walking in that waiting room to tell the news to our families.  When we walked in, I feel like they were trying to read our faces.  We hurriedly told them the news and shouts, cheers and pure relief filled the room.  We hugged each and every one of them.  They left for home and we stayed just down the hall in the NICU where they have a few rooms available for parents to sleep.  We were beyond exhausted.  Heath and I curled up on this tiny couch/ pull out bed type of thing and tried to get some rest.  The nurse promised to come and get us if anything changed throughout the rest of the morning.

Thank goodness it didn't.  We woke up a few hours later and went to Mason's bedside.  He looked peaceful and a lot better than the previous night.  he still looked sick, but better.  They came in to do rounds that morning and told us what to expect next.  The plan was to withhold feeds for 7-14 days and administered 2 different antibiotics that would help fight the bacteria in his little belly.