Reviving baby dolls with one finger, Desat detention and naughty school kids

Nobody comes running, strangely because the alarm is much more intense than usual and the numbers on the monitor don’t climb up fast enough (towards normal). They are down and stay down for what feels like forever “come on baby girl”. I feel like this is a test where I have to revive my baby all by myself, I sit her up straight, I re-position her, I rub her arms and legs and pat her back like I’ve seen the nurses do all the while trying not to panic. My sister in law is of course not sure what is going on. The numbers start climbing slowly as a nurse nonchalantly walks over and turns the beeping off. Eh, okay, what just happened was fine then?  She leaves before I have the time to ask her but of course I’m pretty shaken up. Good and mentally ready for this mandatory CPR class all the NICU parents have to take in order to “graduate” and take their baby home. I know I have to say something, I need to find out what that was, having been here a while and both seen things in the NICU and researched on my own (I do that if you haven’t figured that out by now,which is both good and bad; good because I always stay well informed and in most cases a step ahead but bad because, yes well you would know if you have ever googled any type of decease or symptom before…or anything you worry about with your child) I’m pretty sure  a “Desat” is not a good sign.

I finally catch the nurse who is taking care of my baby today (not by aggressively finding her but by nicely waiting for her to show up by my baby’s bed…at least I’m persistent in insisting on an explanation) I want to know what just happened and why that nurse acted like it didn’t and just walked away. I make her (super mama yet again) find the numbers on the monitor by scrolling down on the screen as my sister in law and I watch her, cradling my now sleeping baby in my arms. She seems convinced that no number below 60 will pop up and even tell us that a couple of times before it shows up on the screen- right there white on black (or actually yellow). She looks concerned for about a second (had I looked away I might have missed it) but then she starts telling us that there is no way the baby was “under” or in Desat for more than a minute but as she is scrolling – there it is again- unfortunately numbers don’t lie.

I really don’t want to do this class and deal with other people right now, however nice they may be (the nurse said the class was full). I don’t want to swop birth stories or preemie stories for that matter. I don’t mean to sound like a “you know what” but I’m tired, so very tired. I just don’t have the energy or mental strength for anything but my own situation (here I go again- hello bi*ch). I know some stories are heartbreaking and don’t get me wrong I know we are very lucky…but not right now okay. Am not in the mood for “my preemie is smaller/younger/sicker game” at all. But I must admit that it’s nice to spend some alone time with my husband- even if it is in a sterile, Clorox smelling hospital corridor. He jokes around with me, calming me down and we make some phone calls for possible help with the kids when my mom leaves. We let what must be the instructor head in to the classroom before us and wait until the very last second to enter (feeling like naughty giggling school kids) but as we do, nobody else is in there. We are momentarily confused “is this the right room?” “Did I misunderstand the time?” “Are we early after all??” Where is everyone else? The instructor smiles “looks like it’s going to be just us…so let’s get started”. Hubby takes that as a “great, maybe we can get done quicker” and I instantly get nervous “all the focus will be on us”. I try to remember what this is really for, saving our daughter in an emergency. It’s not too bad, (until you think about doing this for real, would I be fast/brave/good enough…would it work?), after watching a ridiculous movie (where everything was done in ultra-rapid, whispering for help in a white empty room, only after having asked a baby doll to wake up three times “BABY, BABY, BABY”, those of you who have seen this understand what I’m talking about) we get to try it for “real” on the dolls in front of us. Since preemies are even smaller than newborns we get to practice using one finger instead of to pressing down hard on the innocent half naked doll chests. Again I worry about doing it the correct way-not only because I want to impress the instructor-which I do (it’s the straight A nerd in me) but also because this is extremely important, am I doing it fast enough? Hard enough? Too fast, too hard? (And with the added bonus info that you might puncture your baby’s lungs) I feel pretty good about it until my husband start asking about our 2 year old and chocking. Life just feels a bit overwhelming and as we go back down to the NICU a nurse beckons me over to tell me I was right, baby did go under 60 for more than a minute, earning her another five days in the hospital… The next day, the nanny who is sometimes watching our son graciously takes me to the hospital after another night of pumping and storing milk in the fridge. You will not believe what happens on our way to see the baby…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About jennym

A doctor of psychology and a mother of three writing about the struggles and joys and the ups and downs of motherhood, marriage, pregnancies, deliveries and her absolute love for her children in a humoristic yet down to earth weekly blog!

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