the wonderful land of little people

That short week-long stay in the hospital we had, the one with the nurses and therapists strolling through in the middle of the night with medicine and treatments and us just trying to catch a little bit of sleep whenever we could? It went and did a number on Brooklynn’s sleeping habits.

With how much she was sleeping during the days, – at times it felt like she would nap more in the daytime than she would sleep at night – we were doing well to feed her about 80% of the amount she typical consumed in a 24 hour period. And, logically, she eventually decided that sometime between 2 and 4 am would be a good time to make up that missing meal.

We’ve been down this road before, back when she may or may not have hit a growth spurt, got sick, and started eating in the middle of the night. It lasted almost a month and ended with us employing Project: Tough Love and spending a couple hours for a few nights alternately comforting without feeding and listening to a crying baby, all of which involved not sleeping.

Really, that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? Parents needing sleep. I mean, if we had an android butler (I guess android nanny is more the correct term) to feed the baby in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t care when she wanted to eat. I suppose the robot could also feed her in the morning while we got ready for the day and again before bed while we read a book or watched a movie, right? And soon, robots will be raising our children and we might find ourselves living in the world of The Matrix or the Terminator movies where the machines are trying to kill the humans. Actually, if you spend every waking moment of your life terrified of killer machines, I’m guessing you aren’t sleeping all that well either which kind of defeats the point of the robot butler anyway.

Man, I really wanted one of those too. Way to dash my dreams stupid killer robots.

Ok, for the sake of humanity, we will decide to feed our own baby, which brings us back around to the lack of adult sleep when dealing with nighttime feedings. We’ve done our best to curtail this behavior as fast as possible. We tried to stuff her silly on Sunday. We gave her a bottle when she woke up from nap.  We gave her a bottle when it looked like she was getting tired before she fell asleep. We fed her solid food in the evening before her bath.

Our wonderful result was me being up with a crying infant until about 3:15 in the morning. We’re guessing she had an upset stomach from eating so much, but who really can tell? The one thing that finally did get her to settle down and go back to sleep was having another bottle.

Great plan. Really glad that one worked out.

And then she went back to daycare. Hey, look, a built in schedule, a time to get up in the morning and get the day started, and other small people to entertain, occupy, and otherwise keep her alert and wear her out during the day.

And the sleeping problem has, for the most part, worked itself out. Two nights now with solid sleep. No more midnight snacking.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love daycare?

Maybe I need to go there myself. I hear they have toys and play games. And take naps.

Naps.  Just thinking that word makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Naps.

What a wonderful place it must be.

month seven

Dear Brooklynn,

You are now officially seven months old. Yes, your parents, who have at times struggled to keep house plants alive, have managed to care for you for more than half of a year. Honestly, I’m kind of shocked as well.

Some months I outline what I want to write to you because everything just flowed together and I need to brainstorm what I want to remember. We talk to other parents of small babies a few months younger than you and a comment of theirs will jar our own memories. We think, “Oh, remember when Brooklynn did that? I must have completely blocked it out of my memory until just now.”

Pants on Head

This is not one of those months. No, this past month will always be remembered as the one that you spent eight days in the hospital.

I’m sure by the time you read this and actually understand how long eight days is, it will be more of a “Oh, a little over a week, ok…” reaction. I want to give you some reference to what eight days means to you right now.

At the time you checked in to the hospital, you were 206 days old. When you left, you were 214 days old. Yep, do the math: 206 + 8 = 214.  When we left, that made up a little over 3.7% of your life.

ER

That sounds small, right?  3.7%.  Insignificant. Consider that when we left the hospital, I was 10,243 days old. that 3.7% of my life is about a year.  And as hard as you may find it to believe some day, there was a time in your life when your dad wasn’t old and completely uncool. 3.7% of a life is no small amount.

You spent two days at the hospital when you were born. Brand spanking new and hot off the presses. I think 10 days in the hospital should be enough for anyone for at least a few years, so let’s try to stay home as much as possible from now on, ok?

This was the worst year for RSV in several years.  The day we came home from the hospital, the local news was outside the doors we just left reporting on how serious the whole situation was.

I'm Hooked Up

We were never really worried about your long-term well being. Even as we sat for three hours in the emergency room, we were confident you were going to be ok. We just didn’t know that it would take quite so long to leave again.

You came home with four more stuffed animals than you left with, and after figuring out what this will cost us in medical bills, I want you to know that those had better be the four best stuffed animals ever created.

Now, I’ve made it seem that 8 days is the equivalent of forever in your life. Actually, it still left 3 weeks of healthy time.  I’m sorry; I failed to mention the double ear infection you developed during the beginning of the month.

Well, I think you probably had about 4.5 hours of being completely healthy and awake somewhere in there. We just expect to you have one heck of an immune system when you get older, ok?

ET Toe

Believe it or not, there were actually events in your life that did not revolve around illness.

Around Christmas, you started to sit up on your own but still seemed prone to spontaneous toppling if you stopped actually thinking about sitting up.

Now, sitting up is what you do. You sit up on the floor, on the couch, on our laps, in your crib. Why lay down when you could sit up and reach for things with your hands.

Hoodie

The bath tub still has you a little stumped because objects just seem to float away as you try to grab them. Don’t worry about it, thought; you’ve only gone face first into the water one time trying to reach forward too far, and we got you out quick enough you almost didn’t cry about it.

With all that sitting, it was only natural that you started to sit with us at the table while we eat our meals. Your mother and I finally got with it and ordered a high chair for you.

O2 Tank Big Girl

And if you have a high chair for a baby, that must mean it is time to eat some food. You’ve really taken to it, although the more excited you get about eating, the worse you are. We mostly just worry about you lunging forward and impaling yourself on the spoon while trying to get to the FOOD! Give me FOOD! You will tolerate plain rice cereal and veggies, but fruit is your favorite.  The first time we gave you peaches, you took a bite, stopped to taste, smiled, and did your best to stick your hand into the bowl because, hey, hurry up already, that stuff is good.

With all the sitting and hospital staying, you seem to have forgotten how to roll over (not that you have ever rolled from your back to your front anyway). According to the milestone charts you might be passing things back and forth between your hands (um, you did this over a month ago) and rolling all over (nope, not yet). I guess you are just bound and determined to do everything at your own pace, which is fine by us.

Caged

Let’s just try to stay out of intensive care if at all possible. Your mom and I would really appreciate the normalcy of a month at home.

Love,
Dad

things are looking up

The best thing I heard today: “That’s all we need. Let me help you out to the car.” – said by the nurse as Brooklynn was discharged from the hospital and we headed home.

The second best thing I heard today: The sound of ice in the freezer’s ice maker a few minutes after we walked into the house. The fridge is working again.  Maybe it was the expired food I got rid of. Maybe it was the dust I blew off of the compressor coils the last time I was home. We’ll keep an eye on it, but I’ll take it.

The bad: All of the nasty meat juice and frozen veggie pieces that fell to the bottom of the freezer when it thawed are now frozen solid in one mass on the bottom. Hopefully it will all come out in one big piece and we don’t have to defrost again to clean it.

all systems go

For the past week, at times it has felt like we had a baby on a life support system.  The canula in her nose and pulse-ox meter on her toe have been constants that we based our days around. Between oxygen saturation numbers and flow rates measured in liters per minute, it’s been a little bit of a whirlwind.

Today, those numbers were shut down and stabilized.  Last night, Brooklynn held 87% on her room air test with the oxygen flow shut off. This had been the best result by far and the doctor gave us clearance to go home today.

And it’s funny; after so many days of hoping to see improvement and wishing we could get out of here, we chose to stay. The medications Brooklynn has been on in the hospital are ones that we can’t take home with us. The pulse ox monitor is staying here (although we’re trying to get one to take home with us). Basically, the safety net is being removed.

We chose to stay for 24 hours to make sure that everything is fine in the same situation that we’ll have at home. No oxygen, no fancy medicines, but with the assurance of round-the-clock monitoring for one more day and night.

She held mid 90s for blood oxygen saturation on room air for hours asleep and was even higher when she was awake. Really, at this point, we’re freeloading, which is something Brooklynn already has plenty of experience with.

Frankly, we’ve already reached our coinsurance limit and I don’t want to go home and face the non-operable fridge, so here we are.

Barring any setbacks overnight, we’re going home tomorrow and it’s more of a certainty than a hope.

I think we’ll all sleep well tonight.

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