Post of Pictures!

An assortment of the pictures I've taken the last few days:

Matt putting in the carseat and rearview mirror.

Our shared dessert at NxNW before heading to the hospital.

Hazel: "Goodbye, my sister..."

Around the NICU for 80 Days; Homeward Bound!

On Wednesday, May 30, I would have been 40 weeks pregnant.  It also marks 80 days in the NICU for the girls.

Yesterday was filled with an assortment of tasks to complete before Abigail came home.  I set the pediatrician appointment, Matt let his office know he'd be out for a few days, and we gathered our things together and headed to the hospital to spend the night there with Abigail ("rooming in").  The cool thing about this was we'd be completely responsible for everything for her, but there was a nurse on call if we needed anything or had any questions.  So, basically, a test run for us before taking her home.

Dr. Breed suggested to us we should have dinner before rooming in, so Matt and I decided to eat at North By Northwest, which was where we had our rehearsal dinner the night before we got married.  Neat symmetry, I think.

After dinner and arriving at the hospital, we threw our overnight stuff into the room and headed into NICU3.  It was food time for the girls, so I fed Hazel and Matt fed Abby.  Hazel ate 120 milliliters!!!  In about 25 minutes!  Abby put back about 80 or so too, which isn't too shabby.

SHE PASSED!

Dr. Breed called a few minutes ago.  Abby passed the sleep study and the car seat study, so she is ready to be discharged!  We are so excited!!  We're going to "room in" with her tonight at the hospital, which is a really cool option for NICU parents: we stay in a room at the hospital with Abby and are responsible for everything, but the nurse will be just down the hall in case we have any questions or need anything.

Last night neither one of us slept well - at least Abby did.  ;)  Matt was up late at the office too tying up loose ends - he told his office he'd be home doing backflips if she passed.  Hehee.

It was funny how Dr. Breed told me.  Of course we had been waiting by the phone for over an hour, and Matt had even called the nurse about 15 minutes before the doctor called to see if there was news.  So when Dr. Breed called we were pretty anxious.  He started off by telling me the girls were doing well, and he had just finished reading their sleep study (a printout of her stats over 10-12 hours last night).  He said she had a few quick dips of desats, but overall it looked good.  Not getting a direct confirmation, I asked "so, did she pass?"  The doctor laughed and said yes.  :)

Well....off to do a million things before tonight!!!

11 Weeks in the NICU

I hope everyone had a nice Memorial Day.  Matt had to work, and I went up to the hospital, so aside from less traffic on Mopac, it was like a typical day.  

Hazel weighed in today (last night) at a whopping 6 pounds, 13 ounces, up 7 ounces from yesterday.  I know she started with the half breastmilk/half formula on Saturday, but that's still quite a bit of weight gain.  The good news, though, is she gained weight.  Abby is up to 6 pounds, 5 ounces, up 4 ounces from yesterday.  Same for her - it may not stay up that high, but at least there is weight gain.

Not Your Average Sunday

Busy day today.

The countdown is still on for Abby.  Her last episode was May 24 (still), so it is still looking good.  Hazel is still having the daily episodes, so she is in "perpetual countdown."  I'm cautiously optimistic that someone will be coming home this week.

Both girls had their followup eye exams today (and so were a bit tired when we visited in the afternoon), but the good news is the next followup isn't until they are nine months of age.  Dr. So said there is a slight risk of eye misalignment and/or nearsightedness, which the doctors won't be able to detect until later.  (I had both of these when I was little, so this doesn't worry me too much.)

The girls also had followup hearing tests, since the antibiotics given to treat the infections have a slight risk of causing hearing loss.  Fortunately, no problems passing those either!

Papaw Rides In and the Dirty (Diaper) Dozen

Papaw came to visit the girls this weekend.  After he arrived we chatted for a bit, and after a few things were accomplished, we headed up to the NICU for some quality Hazel and Abby time.  I took some great pictures!

It is amazing.  I was there just yesterday, but the turnover even since then is pretty big.  Plus, instead of the usual nine babies, there were 12, including at least two boys!  It is a girls only sanctum no longer.  :)  When we arrived around 8:45 pm, Jane the nurse had held off on feeding Hazel so we could do it.  I jumped in immediately; she started off great, but about halfway through started bradying every few seconds.  Then, after getting that out of her system so to speak, we finished the bottle without any incident.  Jane, who has had the girls before, told me this is a pretty common occurrence at 8:30 but the rest of her feeds are normally fine.

Frustrating Friday

Abby was being a little toot today.  She and Hazel are fed every three hours, staggered by 30 minutes (2:30/3:00, 5:30/6:30, 8:30/9:00, 11:30/12:00) so to (theoretically) allow both to be fed by us.  Normally Hazel is fed first, and then Abby (one of the perks of being born one minute earlier for Hazel, I guess).  But today Abby was awake and hungry early, before each of her scheduled feedings.  I'm trying to work on breastfeeding, so as soon as I got Hazel on, right at 2:30, Abby woke up and started crying.  Of course, there's nothing I can do about it except listen to her fuss.  Fun stuff.  And THEN, once we finally got to her, instead of actually breast feeding she decided to open her mouth and cry instead.  Argh.  Apparently you can lead a baby to the breast but you can't make her drink.

Six Pounds and Three Days

Both girls are officially over six pounds today!  Hazel measured in at 6 pounds, 3 ounces, and Abigail was six pounds even.  They are actually normal baby sizes now!

Today ended up being a marathon day in the NICU - I was there for four feedings (2:30p, 5:30p, 8:30p, and 11:30p), which is close to 12 hours, and didn't leave until about 12:45 in the morning.  I had planned to be there for those first three feedings, but Matt got over there around 10:30 and I ended up sticking around for that 11:30 assessment.  It is so hard to leave!  I've told several of the nurses - one of the good things about the 6:30p "kick out time" (for shift change/nurses report) is that it forces you to leave.  Otherwise all of my days would end up being like this.

As Cheryl put it, Abby certainly has found her voice.  For most of her assessments today, she woke up earlier than her assessment time and loudly proclaiming that she is hungry.  And, at her 11:30/12:00p feeding time (the one prior to me arriving), she ate 75-80 ml!  I worked on breast feeding with both her and Hazel for the first three assessments, and we had to supplement with her (and Hazel) for each one.  She will certainly let you know if she's not happy.  And, as Cheryl said, she's definitely not going to miss a meal.  :)

39 Weeks

 I would have been 39 weeks today.  Since the girls would have come no later than 38 weeks per my doctor, I definitely would not still be pregnant today.  Since the girls are still in the NICU, and they care about gestational age, might as well keep counting down.

There has been some turnover in the NICU3.  For the longest time (perhaps around a month?  hard to keep track of time), it was basically the same nine babies:  three sets of twins in (us, Gonzalez, and Lopez); Sara the 4 month old; Mia (who we watched being admitted our first week in the hospital); and one other baby (in the back corner, and I never really saw the parents when I was there).  Interestingly, all of the babies were girls!  In fact, some of the nurses joked we should put up a "no boys allowed" sign on the door.

Last week the Lopez twins were discharged (separately, but within 4 days of each other), and yesterday the Gonzalez twins were discharged together.  It was their mom that I had gotten to know pretty well, so while I was glad they were getting to go home, I was sad to see a friend go.  She has my email address and phone number, though, so hopefully we'll stay in touch.  And, of course, they couldn't leave without some drama.  Their identical girls (now 36 weeks) were barely five pounds, and the carseat that they originally purchased a few days ago didn't pass the car seat study, so they found another which passed on Sunday.  So they purchased a second one (and had to have it overnighted from Houston).  Unfortunately, though, when Jennifer brought in the second one, the nurses couldn't get it to fit properly.  When I left for the evening yesterday, she and her husband were still in the middle of that, but I guess they made it work since the twins were gone today.

Fussy, Fussy, Fussy

Abigail was in rare form today.  She is either not a fan of Tuesdays or was just feeling cranky, I guess.  When I walked in around 2:00 pm after running a few errands, Cheryl told me Abby had been crying so far in advance of her feeding time that Cheryl was about to bathe and feed her early.  She got her bath (I took some cute pictures), but was so worked up from that and everything else she was more interested in crying than actually trying to breastfeed a bit later.  She must have tired herself out, because it was tough waking her up at the 6:00 pm feed to get her to eat.

Hazel, on the other hand, was pretty mellow and chill, even when while we were making her wait to eat because Abby was fussing.  It was torture enough listening to one baby cry; I'm glad they have decided (so far) to alternate fussy days, because I can't imagine what it's going to be like with two crying fussy babies (I'm sure I'll find out soon enough).  Anyway, Hazel did really well with breastfeeding, especially considering it had been about a week since our last attempt.  I even attempted to tandem breastfeed, although with a fussy Abby that proved to be too difficult.  Plus, I have no idea how this would work without Cheryl's help.  Apparently it gets better once the girls get better at latching on.  Hope so, as we are still a work in progress.

Week Ten In the NICU

The girls were born 10 weeks ago.  Today, Hazel is 6 lbs (woohoo!) and Abigail is 5 lbs, 12 ounces.  I was looking at the pictures of them from the first week of their life, and whoa, we've come a long way.  Lately it seems like the tunnel is neverending, but I know we're getting close.  It's just hard to get your hopes up and then be disappointed by a setback, so I'm trying to be more temperate about it.

In the meantime, Dr. Soon called today and said the girls are getting really, really close.  In fact, he was talking about how soon it may be before Hazel can come home, which really shocked me, since it seemed like Abby had jumped her.  Apparently the race down the homestretch as to who will be discharged first is neck and neck (forgive the horse race analogies - the Preakness was this past weekend so its on my mind).

A culture was (will be) done on Abby today to make sure the antibiotics have cleared up her UTI.  Tomorrow they're going to do an ultrasound to make sure her kidneys and bladder are okay, and are not predisposed to these type of infections.  Melissa, our nurse today, needed to put a catheter in to get a urine sample, and since I hadn't walked into NICU3 yet (I was still talking to Bonnie, the unit clerk), she suggested I wait until they were done (so I wouldn't have to hear or watch Abby get poked by a large needle).  After a nice conversation with Bonnie (upon hearing what Matt does, she wants to work at his company) and watching the admittance of a "sick" baby (diagnosis unknown to me) at the scrub station, I went into the NICU.  Turns out the catheter attempt was unsuccessful; Melissa and Annalise told me Abby had "an uncooperative urethra."  For some reason that phrase cracks me up.  :)

70 Days in the NICU: "Little Stinkers" Plus Sunday Night Social

"Little stinkers, " says Dr. Kienstra today during our phone update.  The girls look good and are active, but just still haven't gotten over the feeding plus occasional episode hump.  Abby had an episode this morning, but her previous one was last Tuesday.  So the bad news is we've got to start her five day countdown again, but the good news (so to speak) is she still has five days to go on her antibiotic anyway.  At this point, still not ready to even worry about a countdown with Hazel.

Before heading up to the NICU, we took Matt's mom by the Diffen's to see their new house and so she could hold Darcy for awhile.  Both Matt's mom and Darcy seemed to love it.  :)  

The (first) NICU visit today was relatively uneventful.  We held the girls, Nina took some pictures, and then she had to head back home to Dallas.  Turns out, though, they were the breastmilk supply was getting really low - not even enough to make it through all of the night feedings.  So after they kicked us out at 6:30, Matt and I ate dinner at Kerbey Lane (thank you Kevin & family!), went home, filled a cooler full of milk, and headed back up to the NICU.

We Are Marshall ... and Lily

No major developments today in the NICU world.  Seems like it has been awhile since I've been able to say that.  We visited at the end of the day shift and for a few hours during the evening shift.   Nina is doing awesome feeding Abby - she finished her bottle tonight in about 20 minutes! 

During the day shift, Hazel got a bath.  She was not really happy about it, as you'll see from my pictures.  Not much happened during the evening; Nina held/fed Abby and Matt and I switched off with Hazel, who had been squirming like her GI tract was working on something.  Well, sure enough, she was.  As we were wrapping her up to let her sleep in the crib, she lets 'er rip something fierce.  It was pretty quiet in the room (even the radio was very low), so the nurses turn and look our direction quizzically:  "was that her??"  Oh, yes.  So I had a bonus diaper change before we left.  :)

Friday in the NICU

Hazel had her swallow study today, and all things were clear.  They checked with both the blue (faster slow) and green (slow slow) nipples, and no milk got anywhere close to the airway, which is good.  So, her eating/breathing issues are not due to reflex, but just prematurity.  She did really well during our first feeding of breathing and eating, but not as much during the second time, probably because she was more stimulated and hungrier.  Her last official/charted brady, according to Dr. Kienstra this afternoon, was yesterday (May 17), but I don't think we'll probably be starting the five day countdown for at least a few more days.

The results on Abby's urine came back, and there is bacteria in her urine, but not nearly the amount (10K) that Dr. Kienstra was expecting (normally 100K or more).  The doctor almost wishes she could ignore it, since it requires a seven day course of antibiotics, but obviously it affected Abby, so they won't be.  Abby started her antibiotics on Tuesday so she'll be done next Thursday.  Her last charted brady was also on Tuesday (May 15), but she wouldn't be discharged before the antibiotics course is complete anyway.  So, basically, Abby decided to catch something to make sure she stuck around to be with her sister (that's my story and I'm sticking to it).  ;)  As usual, Abby did awesome while being fed by her Nina today.

Back In the Saddle

Today was a good day ... it felt like I was back into the swing of normalcy.  Which, I guess, is weird to say considering "normalcy" involves going to the NICU every day.

As an update, both girls are still extremely cute.  Is that an update, really?  Probably not.  ;)

Hazel now has official orders for the swallow study, but Annalise (today's nurse) found out the speech therapist only works Mondays through Thursdays, and it was already too late today, so the study will be on Monday.  In the grand scheme of things this probably doesn't really mean anything will be held up, as she is still not ready to go, but it is a bit frustrating that Dr. Breed originally mentioned he'd like to do this last weekend and it will be a week before it's a go.  In Annalise's opinion, a lot of Hazel's breathing/brady problems are due to reflux (although she strongly cautioned she's not the expert).

38 Weeks (Induction Day) and the Birth of Another New Friend

My doctor doesn't let twin pregnancies go longer than 38 weeks.  So today, May 16, was my "due" date.  Little did I know when I virtually circled this date almost nine months ago that my twin girls would already be two months old.  It is also fun (sometimes) to think back about what you were doing or thinking last year at this time.  I don't recall the date exactly, but I know I was gearing up for the Griffin family reunion up in Rock Port, and probably thinking about finally shedding those "I don't care what I'm eating while preparing for trial" pounds (side note: the free app "Lose It" is awesome.  I lost 10 pounds last summer using it - all you do is track what you eat and how much you exercise.).  We may have had a flag football game that Monday, too.  No idea who won (although it was probably our team - we were pretty good).

Sorry, that was kind of a tangent.  (While up in the Pacific Northwest in 2006 for the OU/UO game, I drove by a sign directly you to Tangent, Oregon.  Matt said I should live there.  Perhaps this is a glimpse of why.)

So, today, Matt ended up taking the day off because he was up so late at the hospital watching them work on Abby.  I felt loads better in the morning, although still slightly tired with a sore/red boob, but no fever/chills.  MUCH better.  Called my doctor and then picked up a prescription to combat the diagnosis (mastitis).

Another Rainy Day (and Night)

Okay, what is it with the weather correlating to what is going on with us and the girls?  Monday started nice and pretty, some storms rolled in Monday night, and Tuesday was grey, cooler (for Austin), and rainy.

(sorry - some of this post is going to discuss my boobs)

Monday morning I woke up and my right boob hurt.  I tried to massage out any of the lumps during pumping, but it still hurt to touch - even the seat belt going across my chest hurt.  Then, while I was in the NICU, I suddenly felt horrible and got the chills.  I went out to the car to get warm and still felt horrible and super tired, so I didn't go back to the NICU and instead drove home.  Still felt bad that night and the entire next day (Tuesday), with hot flashes, chills, and general malaise.  I didn't feel hungry at all, either (which is not necessarily a good thing if you're trying to breast feed).  Since we weren't exactly sure the reason for my illness, Matt and I decided it best that I not visit the NICU in case I had something infectious, so Tuesday was the first day I did not visit the girls since they've been born.  Felt REALLY weird.  I did manage to haul myself up to Matt's work to deliver some milk, though.

Week Nine In the NICU

Well, turns out Abby failed the sleep study on Sunday night/Monday morning.  Dr. McCormick (I haven't seen her as much - she is normally in Round Rock) read the paper on the study, and it was pretty clear Abigail wasn't ready to leave, as there were too many gaps when she held her breath.  The doctor showed me several strips as examples of good and bad - it was pretty interesting.  I was disappointed, of course, but I'd rather her be in the NICU if that is where she needs to be right now.  Plus, I'd have to come back to visit Miss Hazel anyway!  (Oh, and good news on that front - I confirmed with several nurses that I could bring one twin back to the NICU to visit the other if they are discharged on separate dates.  Which, apparently, is what usually happens.  So yay.)

Oh, and stats for the week:

Hazel is 5 pounds, 8 ounces.

Abigail is 5 pounds, 6 ounces.

I forgot to check for lengths.  Argh.

I wasn't at the NICU for very long today.  I started not feeling well, so ended up leaving and then heading home for a nap.  Hopefully it is (a) not contagious and (b) SUPER quick.

Jerry, The Cafeteria Guy

I've talked about him a bit, so Matt suggested I post about it.

Usually three or four times a week, I'll get lunch at the hospital cafeteria.  The entree changes each day, so there is good variety, plus I can squeeze in some veggies and fruit into my diet.  (I always have the option of chicken tenders, fries, and hamburgers/cheeseburgers, too.)  But, since the cafeteria closes at 6:30 pm (on the dot) during the week, I usually go to the bistro (next to the cafeteria in the atrium) for a snack/coffee/dinner depending on how hungry I get.

Jerry is one of the cashiers at the cafeteria.  He is probably in his 50s, with an average build and gray/white hair that is thinning on the top.  He is generally friendly, but watching him work, you can tell he is very intent on his job.

So, the thing I've noticed about Jerry.  He says "okay" all the time.  A typical transaction:

The Rainbow Connection

Driving home today, I saw a full (not a double) rainbow.  What does this mean?  It's so bright, it's so vivid... All the way across the sky...* No worries, I didn't break out into tears, but I did actually have a hard time capturing it with my iPhone:

Anyway...

I ran into Dr. Breed as I was going in to NICU3.  Abby is still doing well, and her last brady episode was on Tuesday, May 8.  The rule is they won't discharge a baby until he/she goes five days without an episode ... so if nothing happens in the next two days, five days from her last episode would be Sunday, May 13 (coincidentally, Mother's Day).  He is worried about her growth, though, since it has tapered off the last few days, although she gained an ounce from yesterday (so back to 5 pounds, 1 ounce).  After the doctor left, I talked to the nurses (Jean and Tammy) about it, and they suggested I go ahead and bring the carseat in for the carseat study.  Folks, it's getting real!  They also suggested I use the optional "room in;" the night before discharge, we can stay in a room in the NICU and take care of the baby, but if something happens or we have a question, the nurses are right there around the corner.  Matt and I are definitely interested in doing THAT - we can use as much help and guidance as we can get.  :)

Baths & Photo Ops

Hazel got her IV out today!  Things looked better, and Dr. Wong seemed to think she just had a virus, so there was no further need for antibiotics.  She is still on caffeine, though, and still has occasion random bradys/desats.  So she's still got some time.  Abby is a little trooper and chugging along.  Both girls still need some help pacing while they eat, too.  But things are good.

Mom and I gave the girls a bath today, with Dad taking pictures with my iPhone, his iPhone, and my "real" camera.  Afterwards we took pictures of the girls with Mom, with Dad, with just them, with all of us, and with just me.  And, thanks to Kim (our nurse today), all of this was done in about 15 minutes total.  We may have set a record for my Dad, in fact.  ;)  Afterwards Mom and Dad fed Hazel and Abby, respectively, before heading back home.  It certainly is quiet around the house tonight with them gone!

37 Weeks & 36 Years

I would have been 37 weeks pregnant today.  And Matt's birthday is today!  The joke/question while I was pregnant was whether Matt would be a father when he was 35 or 36.  Well, I would not have been surprised if you had told me in advance the girls would take the under ... I just didn't expect them to do it so emphatically.  

Hazel seemed much better today.  The antibiotics plus the caffeine must have kicked in.  Cathy, our nurse, said Hazel's blood work came back negative today, but we'd still need to wait until tomorrow to see if anything else popped up.  Fortunately her white blood count was coming up too.  Abby, though, seemed a bit more tired today than she did yesterday - I hope she didn't catch whatever it was that Hazel has.  Both girls really didn't feed too well with us today, though - my parents worked on the girls at the 2:30 feed without much luck, and I worked on both at 5:30 without much luck either.  

Rainy Day

Have you ever noticed that, during a movie, frequently the weather is rainy or stormy when something bad happens?  Not sure if it was a coincidence or not, but last night we had some serious lightning and thunder, and today was rainy and cool.

So I'm in the middle of running errands this morning when I receive the email/visual voicemail.  Dr. Breed has called and said Hazel was acting "goofy."  She had several more episodes last night and this morning, her white blood count was low, and so Dr. Breed was a bit concerned, and decided to order a full gamut of blood work, give her antibiotics, put her back on caffeine, and test her urine.  Of course, as soon as I read the transcript of the voicemail, I forget about the other errands and head over to the hospital (fortunately I was relatively close by).

I walk in and up to the NICU clerk (Emely) to tell her I was there before I scrub in.  Emely does a "wait a minute" wave and tells me I need to wait to go in, as NICU3 is closed for a "procedure."  Well, this freaks me out a bit.  I know - without being told - the "procedure" is for Hazel, and every other time I've heard the unit is closed for a procedure it has involved things like open heart surgery and the death of a poor 25 weeker.  Before going too far off the deep end, though, I ask Emely how long I need to wait.  She doesn't know, so has to call over there, and after she gets off the phone tells me the procedure is done so I can go over.  

Eight Weeks in the NICU

We've been in the NICU for eight weeks today.  The girls' stats:

Hazel - 5 pounds, 2 ounces ... gained 2 pounds, 7 oz since birth

Abigail - 5 pounds, 2 ounces (about 12 grams difference from Hazel) ... gained 2 pounds, 10 oz since birth

Apparently Hazel does not like Mondays.  Kim, our nurse today, told me when I walked in that Hazel had several episodes today, some after a feeding, so she and Dr. Breed elevated her head in the crib to see if it was just reflux issues.  They also did routine blood work on her and noticed a low white blood cell count plus a relatively low temperature, so they are going to run another set of tests on her tomorrow.  I bet she'll love that.

Abby, on the other hand, had a pretty stellar day.  She passed her hearing test (third time's the charm!), ate like a champ for Kim, and had no episodes.  Abby also had a bath before I got there and Kim said that went smoothly, too.

We worked on breast feeding at both the afternoon assessments.  Normally Hazel is scheduled to go first, but Abby seemed more awake, so I worked with her first.  Kim gave me some good instructions, and Abby did much better than in the past few days.  At the end, we offered her a bottle, which she downed (although the last bit took forever).  During our second outing, Abby went a bit longer, but kept falling asleep despite my best efforts.

All PO Feeds, All The Time ... x 2

Big news of the day:  Dr. Breed has ordered Hazel to "p.o. feed all," which means oral feeds at every feeding time, like Abby.  Yay!  In celebration, Hazel pulled her feeding tube completely out (not the first time, but hopefully the last time).  I guess she was ready too.  Both girls gained weight, too - Hazel was 5 pounds 3 ounces and Abigail was 5 pounds 1 ounce.

Still working on feeding!  Both girls seem to do pretty well with the bottle, but both got super sleepy when we tried to breastfeed.  During the 5:30 assessment, I started with Hazel, who was pretty awake (not quite fussing yet, but close).  So we get her out of the crib, she gets on, and within a few minutes falls asleep.  I try to wake her up with the usual methods ... no luck ... so I put her back in the crib and pick up Abigail, who is wide awake.  We start off, Abby is not really interested, and then she falls asleep!  Meanwhile, after being put back in the crib, Hazel wakes up (again) and shows interest in eating.  So...I put Abby up, pick up Hazel again ... who promptly falls asleep AGAIN.  As Rachel (the nurse) said later tonight, perhaps I'm putting off too much warm and cozy smell.  ;)  This is all pretty normal, though, from what I've been told. 

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

No big news today.  The girls are still doing well, although each have had a few episodes.  As Dr. Breed said, they aren't quite ready to go home yet, but we're getting there.  Each lost an ounce overnight, so technically Abby isn't five pounds anymore, but she'll probably be back up tomorrow.  The milestone has still been passed.  ;)

One funny thing - apparently there have been several times (once yesterday and once today) when Abby has woken up early and decided she is HUNGRY, so started fussing.  Both times the nurses went ahead and fed her, since Hazel was still sleeping.  I haven't been there when this has happened, so I haven't seen it, but it is so hard to think it is laid back little Abby doing the crying and hand waving (well, the latter I can believe).

Both girls' behinds look better.  The doctor and nurses think part of the diaper rash was due to the fortifier they used, so now that the girls have switched to the formula supplement that'll probably help too.  So we're back to Boudreaux's Butt Paste (again) from Ilex plus petroleum jelly, which is also nice because BBP is easier to apply.

TWO Five Pounders, the Double Bath, and Feeding News

Hazel is 5 pounds, 2 ounces today and Abigail is 5 pounds even today!  First time both are over the five pound mark!  They are such heavyweights now.... ;)

The girls get a bath every three days, and today (for the first time) their bath was together.  It was extraordinarily cute ... I had a hard time helping with the bath because I wanted to take so many pictures!  (Abby is on the left and Hazel is on the right in all of these pictures)

Five Pounds!!!

Hazel was five pounds, one ounce today!!!  Cheryl (our nurse today - and the same one who taught our discharge class) knew I'd be excited when I checked the records today.  Five pounds seems like such a huge milestone!  Abby weighed in at 4 pounds, 14.9 ounces, so she's really close to the five pound mark too.

36 Weeks

I would have been 36 weeks pregnant today.  So it's been 8 weeks or so since I was pregnant.  The time has flown ... some days it seems like we just got to the NICU, and other days it feels like it has been months and months.

Today Hazel was 4 pounds, 14 ounces (up from 2 pounds, 11 ounces at birth), so she's gained 2 pounds, 3 ounces.  She was 43 cm long when measured last Saturday night/Sunday morning, which means she has grown about 2 inches in length since she was born (yes, I know, I'm mixing measuring systems).

Abby is 4 pounds, 11.9 ounces today (up from 2 pounds, 8 ounces at birth), so she's gained 2 pounds, 4 ounces.  She is also 43 cm long, which means she has grown about 3 inches since she was born.  

50 Days in the NICU: Baths, OT, Making Friends, and Reminders of Mortality

After staying up wayyyy too late last night to work on this here blog, it was really tough getting up (multiple times) this morning.  The good news is I've noticed that the milk production has increased, even if I don't pump as many times in one day.  I try not to push it, though, since I want the production to increase even more and it tends to hurt if I go too long without pumping.

I arrived at the hospital earlier than usual so I could help give both the girls baths today.  As a side note, the NICU gives babies baths every three days, and originally it was only during the night shift.  The night nurses complained about that, so now the NICU switches between day and night every month.  Since today is the first day of May, baths moved back to the daytime.

The night Hazel and Abby were born

Hello,

The Apologia

I have to recall that I have lost all perspective on the matter being so close to it.  There are a thousand things that Nancy and I have a keen attention for now.  We've also had moments that didn't care about our attention level, they simply hit us like a truck and left an indelible mark on our memory without our permission.

So this is your fair warning and apologia.  I will be honest and write how I write. Forgive if I am distracted to rant about the engineering quirks of a bassinet.  Have courage if I talk about life and death.  Ignore me if I make a snooty allusion to literature, or quote songs you've never heard.  Have patience if my emphasis lingers on crude biology (a lot of it is very indicative of health). Ask us if there's anything you really want to know that we haven't thought to include.  Thank you for caring.

Some Background

Finding out Nancy was in labor

A lot of you have asked about the story of what happened.  So here is the basic play by play.  The day Nancy went into labor was Sunday, March 11th.  Prior to that, we had done our research, been to all the doctor appointments, listened to directions, gotten enough rest, eaten the right food, and been given a clean bill of health on all accounts.  Knowing that twins tend to come early, we'd mentally prepared for a very short stint in the NICU, expecting something of an uneventful week or two there in early May.  Coming into the third trimester, things were all looking good.  The only risks were related to the fact we are a little older as parents, and twins are trickier to develop.  But given Nancy's health and the girl's steady reports, everything looked really good.  The Friday before Nancy went into labor, we even had confirmation from a specialist that everything was within expected and safe ranges (which they were at that time, they just suddenly changed). 

After the good report on Friday, we went into the weekend feeling pretty good.  But when we went to bed Saturday night around midnight, Nancy didn't sleep well.  She woke up on Sunday morning complaining that she didn't get a good night's sleep, struggling with discomfort and restlessness.  We slept in a little late that morning to catch up a bit.  After getting up and about, we went over to a local spot called Waterloo Ice House for something of a brunch.  We grabbed some breakfast-y fare, but Nancy only got through a bit of hers before putting her fork down.  She told me that she didn't feel well at all, and looked sick to her stomach.  So we called for the check and beat a hasty retreat out of there.  Nancy said something like she felt like just laying down, so we got her situated on the couch, and got her a tall glass of water.  I was feeling oddly tired myself after a fairly long week, so we both just took a nap.  Before nodding off, Nancy complained that she was feeling cramps, and that her lower back ached.  We were both aware that certain symptoms can indicate labor, and both of those were on the list.  However, she had experienced each of those before at different times during the pregnancy, and we were waiting to see if they were a temporary flare up. 

After taking it slow and getting some more rest, I was concerned that Nancy hadn't really eaten anything.  I make a quick frozen pizza so she could have something on her stomach.  I didn't like the idea of low blood sugar messing with her as long as she felt crappy to start.  But after taking a nap, she indicated that her symptoms hadn't really improved at all.  I asked if she could stand to eat just a little, and she did.  After finishing up the pizza, we talked for a bit.  We were both concerned that her symptoms hadn't let up.  It seemed like the obvious thing to do at that point was to call the nurse, since rest and time had no effect.  The nurse asked a few questions, and knowing the higher chance of premature birth associated with twins, recommended we go ahead and come in for a look.  The nurse said that they would likely observe Nancy for a while, so she recommended we bring a couple of essentials.  Given that it was Sunday night at that point, we could easily get held overnight.  We threw a couple of things into an overnight bag and headed up the freeway.  It was about 8:00 PM when we started out.

Even though Nancy had noticeable discomfort, it did not seem too severe.  If this had been a second pregnancy, it might have been recognizable to us as her going into labor.  As it was, we weren't certain that it was any more than a combination of Braxton-Hicks contractions, fatigue and soreness from a poor night's sleep, and an an upset stomach.  Both of us felt like the nurses would pat us on the back, give Nancy some antacid and tell us to come back in a few weeks. 

We checked in, and set up in a receiving room at the Women's Center, where we waited to be seen by a doctor.  There was a little paperwork, and the nurse did a standard vitals check, along with a brief series of questions.  They asked about the pregnancy so far, Nancy's doctor's name so he could be contacted, and so on.  Somewhere between 8:30 and 10 PM, we were seen by our first doctor.  Doctor Monk was the man on staff that night in the receiving area.  He has 8 kids, with two sets of twins among them.  Our first introduction to him was when he walked into the room across the hall and cheerfully exclaimed "Well, let's see, how is that cervix doing?"  The mood of his question was so bright, I half expected him to enter our room saying "Let's see what's behind cervix number two!" like a game show host.  Don't get me wrong, Dr. Monk is very professional, he simply is direct, and has a manner that seems built to break the tension common with stressed out, expectant mothers that show up in the middle of the night.  Instead, he introduced himself, asked us our names, and had Nancy rattle off what she had experienced that day with her symptoms.  He asked how far along the pregnancy was, to which Nancy replied 28 weeks.  He remained bright and energetic, explained what he would do to check Nancy out, related some things about his two sets of twins when we indicated that was what we were expecting.  He went through his assessment, and when he did examine Nancy's cervix, his tone dropped a little bit, expressing some resignation to a fact.  "Three centimeters and 90 percent effaced," he said to the nurse, "looks like preterm labor." 

Nancy and I both cut our eyes to each other at that, both concerned at what we'd just heard and trying to grasp how serious things were.  In the second between Dr. Monk confirming labor to the nurse and then turning to address us, we both had the usual flash that comes with these things.  As I said earlier, we'd been to all of the appointments and listened to the OB/GYN closely, so we knew that 24 weeks was an important milestone we'd already passed, and 28 weeks was another big one.  Still, we also knew that 24 weeks is basically the big turning point for survivability, and 28 mostly marked a reduction of the worst risks.  So we knew that even now, the girls could be OK, but it felt like everything was cutting it frightfully and awfully close.  Both of us were hoping for some sort of confirmation that as close as we were to this sort of milestone, twin A and twin B were ahead of the danger curve, and in store for nothing more than a long but uneventful time in the NICU finishing out their development to a full "baby". 

So here's where I'll digress into some human development, but lightly.  A baby goes through stages, moving in some order from a fertilized egg all the way to what we recognize as an infant.  Along the way are clusters of cells like blastulas and zygotes, but what most people associate with a recognizable child is the fetus stage.  A baby spends a fair amount of time as a developing fetus, and even at 40 weeks full term, a newborn still has some things in common with a fetus as much as it does to an infant.  It will still be some weeks as a newborn really settles into fully being a "baby" that is growing and thriving in the outside world.  So, at 28 weeks, you are not so much giving birth to a baby as you are giving birth to a fetus.  It is a rather startling thought, and I apologize if it's not pleasant, but that's exactly what we were faced with.  The silver lining here was that we were looking at giving birth to two reasonably advanced fetuses that were strong enough to survive outside of the womb provided care and assistance.  So when Dr. Monk said "preterm labor", this is what flashed through our minds instantaneously.  As with most situations that are associated with a fight or flight response, the world snapped into a place of the present, and we found ourselves very much in the moment.  Past and future seemed dim, and our attention was pretty focused on our immediate surroundings.  That would be the case for as long as I continued to be awake that night and day.

So there we were, locking eyes with a "what does it all actually mean?" expression on our faces, and Doc Monk breaks the spell with "OK, we're going to go ahead and get you admitted.  I'll be back in a moment, and you can ask me if you have any questions."  We had a few, but without further examination, most of the answers were general in nature.  We were going to be admitted, they may try to slow/stop the labor, they might go to C-section, the babies seem OK right now, there would be some things we needed to sign, and Nancy's doctor was not available, so we'd be doing this with one of his partner/associates in the practice, Dr. Capet.

Admitted into Labor and Delivery

So at this point, Nancy's and my account of the night begins to diverge somewhat.  I remain a spectator, while she goes through all the direct action.  I remain conscious the whole time, while she moves through varying stages of alertness in either magnesium therapy or anesthesia during the C-section surgery.  We spend some time apart for short durations.  And finally, only she can describe all that she noticed and what it felt like to go through everything.  So of course I'll leave it to her to fill in those details.  Read Nancy's account for the view from her eyes.  For my part, this is what I saw leading up to the birth of Hazel and Abigail.

Prior to all of this, Nancy and I had taken a tour of the facilities.  The hospital offers these on a regular basis to expecting parents, so that you know kind of how things work.  It's good to know how to ring yourself in after the doors lock at night, how to find your way around, how much cabinet space is in a labor room for your things, and what the standard procedures are for delivery, testing, visitors, security protocols, etc.  Now that we had confirmed that Nancy was well into labor, it at least felt a little familiar to what we'd learned on the tour.  She was wheeled right into a room where we were greeted by Lisa, who would be our nurse in labor and delivery that night assisting Dr. Capet.  However, although the room and reception felt familiar, things would be different than standard full term delivery, and Lisa explained what was about to happen.  She told us that Nancy should expect them to try magnesium therapy.  She went on to tell that magnesium relaxes the muscles in the body, and the hope was that the ones that drive labor would stop contracting so much and advancing the labor along so fast.  "I'm sorry to tell you, but honestly it will make you feel pretty miserable.  You will be pretty out of it, and mentally and physically you'll feel very bleh.  It will probably make you feel flushed and hot, and you could get nauseous."  Lisa is a pretty physically expressive person, so as she was speaking about how Nancy would feel, she aped out a very slouchy posture, and made sluggish motions, as though she were moving through a pool of thick liquid instead of air.  She made a dull and drugged sort of expression with her eyes drooping half closed, and then returned to her normal posture.  Nancy and I both nodded, and Lisa went on to explain more.  She told us that if the babies are going to come, then there is a steroid treatment that will help their lungs develop.  She and another nurse went on to hook Nancy into a monitor that charted her contractions, as well as set up equipment and prepare catheters and such. I found out a little later that Lisa had been in the Army.  Finding out that I was a Marine broke whatever ice remained.  Nurses have to deal with a variety of patients, who can react in all sorts of ways to stress.  Panic, bossiness, and the whole gamut of emotions can complicate things.  She was already warming to the fact that Nancy and I showed no imminent signs of going looney tunes, but service members share a culture and language, and from then on I could get the completely straight answer on things if I asked.

After a little while, we were seen by Dr. Christy Capet.  We had never met her before, since Nancy's regular OB/GYN is Dr. Cowan.  However, it didn't take her long to make an impression.  From reading her bio several days later, I found out that she ran track and field in college as a heptathlete, and she still runs half-marathons.  If you've ever spent much time around someone who is a doctor, or someone who had the skill and discipline to compete in athletics at the college level, you'll know that both doctors and athletes tend to carry themselves with certain varieties of self composure.  Dr. Capet has her measure of both and it was evident in her manner.  She was very much in control of herself, and seemed prepared to respond to any potential change in the environment or situation.  For lack of a better description, she seemed possessed of a great deal of balance.  In that manner, we were told that it was unlikely that we could do anything to halt labor, but "we'll do our darndest"(slipping into Texas vernacular for a moment).  The contingency was that we could at least slow it down enough to allow them to do the corticosteroid treatment to help the babies lungs.  If we can delay for 24-48 hours, then it would be possible to do more than one treatment (if I recall this correctly).  However, it was mostly important that we could get one in prior to a delivery (which we did).  As far as anyone was concerned at the moment, there was nothing more anyone could do except see what Nancy and the babies would do.  Their response would dictate the course of action. Dr. Capet asked if we had any questions, so I tried to be pragmatic.  My question was, what are the endgames?  My concern was that there were a few different ways this could turn out, so I might as well prepare a basic course of action for each.  "Obviously, one path is we do a C-section, and the babies are born tonight.  What is the other path?"  Dr. Capet's reply was that Nancy would continue on therapy for awhile, and then be ordered to strict bed rest.  There would be no release from the hospital until there was some proof she wouldn't go immediately into labor.  No way she'd be here any less than several days in either case.

So, Nancy was in labor, it was sometime close to midnight, and nobody knew what was happening outside of the hospital.  Being a geek and a tech professional, I'm always sure to bring some sort of computer along, but I hadn't packed any clothes.  Nancy only had and overnight bag with enough gear to brush her teeth and take a shower.  Her change of clothes consisted of some sweats and a T-shirt.  I had nothing to do for a couple of hours while Nancy would lay in a hospital bed feeling drugged and full of discomfort from both side effects and ongoing labor contractions.  So, I called up my best and oldest friend.  As late as it was, Steve picked up and I didn't waste too much time giving him the sitrep: Nancy is in preterm labor, there are a couple of ways it could go, and we'd need some help either way.  I didn't want to call people up at that hour just yet, because I didn't know what was going to happen.  So the plan was, if the babies are coming, he'd get another short call.  At that point he'd get in contact with our parents to let them know what was happening, since I would surely be too rushed at that point.  If the less likely thing happened and we ended up camped in the hospital with Nancy on bed rest, we'd need some clothes and gear the following morning, and maybe someone to get in touch with our workplaces as well.  "Anything we needed," Steve replied, "just let me know."  Plan set, everyone at the hospital went into watch Nancy mode, while Steve kept watch on the phone.

So watching Nancy for this whole period had had a few events.  At some point, there was some kind of treatment consent that Nancy had to sign.  It was after she'd been on the magnesium for awhile.  Some kind of staff member came in to summarize the purpose of a few documents and obtain signatures where applicable.  After outlining one of them, she queried about Nancy's consent, phrasing it with something to the effect of "what do you think?"  Struck with a surging wave of nausea, Nancy's gamely retort was "I think I'm going to throw up".  Despite this, the staffer didn't miss a beat.  She snatched the vomit baggie that had been placed by the bed and handed it to Nancy in one smooth motion, using her other hand to draw the documents out of the potential blast radius.  She patiently waited.  After the whole ordeal was through, she finished off the last of the forms and went on her way like this was completely commonplace.  I was rather stunned.  I don't think I've ever seen a vomit that looked so painful.  Seizing up like that on top of labor contractions and burning sensations from magnesium sulfate in your bloodstream looked agonizing.  My poor wife was so wracked with the spasms that I cringed at the sight.  Nancy maintained her sense of humor, remarking matter-of-factly "Well, there went the pizza."

Overall, Nancy spent about 4 hours on magnesium sulfate.  I spent a fair amount of that time holding her hand, or getting little pieces of information from the nursing staff.  An ultrasound technician came in and did a scan of the girls to see how they were doing.  Both had strong little heartbeats, and measured out at somewhere around 2 pounds and 10 ounces by the algorithm used in the measurements.  During the first two hours, Nancy held at 3 centimeters, but went from 90 to 100 percent effaced.  When the doctor came back about 2 hours after that, Nancy had jumped to 7 centimeters, having been through some strong and more rapid series of contractions.  Once Dr. Capet established the dilation at that measurement, it was time to move.  The babies were coming one way or another.  We had already consented to a c-section long ago, and wanted to avoid the risk of a lengthy or stressful delivery. 

There was no question on the call, and everything moved very quick and efficient.  Lisa handed me disposable coverall scrubs and a mask, and told me I could/should grab a camera.  "Things are going to move really fast, so get these on and be ready to move."  I put on the gear, grabbed a camera, stood in the corner, and called up Steve.  "Hey, Steve? It's happening, they are coming NOW.  I've got to go, so get ahold of our parents."  I hung up and shoved the phone in my pocket, then zipped up the goofy looking suit.  It was sometime about 2 AM.

The goofy looking temp scrubs. Picture taken in C-section recovery

In the OR for C-section delivery

Nancy got wheeled right into the OR, while I was asked to take a seat just outside as they did prep for the surgery.  Periodically, a new person would show up.  A nurse practitioner named Nancy, the neonatologist Dr. Breed, and a couple of NICU nurses.  It later struck me as funny that we had a Dr. Monk who had 8 children, and a neonatologist named Breed, of all things.  But at the time I was concerned with weightier matters.  Both nurse Nancy and Dr. Breed introduce themselves, asked if I was the father, and offered a greeting.  Nurse Nancy told me that they would let me know when to come in.  It could not have been much more than 15 or 20 minutes. 

It felt like a lot more.  It was strange being separated from Nancy, and it was actually extremely quiet in the anteroom to the OR, which didn't help.  I fidgeted with the camera, having the sense to at least test it.  It was a brand new one I'd never operated before, and I didn't know if Nancy had time to put a fresh battery in it.  But Nancy is meticulous with her photography equipment, and I am technically inclined.  So one minute down, camera check is a go.  It's still really quiet and I am trying not to think to much.  I look at the floor, it's still there.  I look at the camera.  Yup, that too.  I think "28 weeks", and start to worry.  I remember that worry is OK, but I am resolved not to give in to panic.  This carousel of thinking goes on for several minutes, and I return to the thought of 28 weeks a few times in that span.  I decide that its a good idea to pray.  I try to start, and have absolutely no idea how.  Because I am a dude, I am struck with inspiration by a prayer from Conan the Barbarian.  I tell God that I'm trying to find words, but I have no tongue for it.  There is something about how regardless of what happens, two fought against many, and valor pleases him. There are simply no group of words that are sufficient.  So I go without language, and offer up a giant wordless mess of thought.  I figure that being God, he'll have no trouble figuring it all out and knowing what to do with it.  A little more time passes, and I wonder what the girls will be like.  I'm worried, but also sort of anxious to meet them.  I think about playing with them in the sun.  I don't even know their names.

Lisa appears around the corner, and leads me right in to the OR.  It looks and smells sterile.  The whole place is some shade of white, blue, or silver of equipment.  So Nancy's brown hair and pretty face stand right out against it.  I am enormously relieved to see her, and say "God, it's so good to see you!" as though we've been apart for weeks.  She smiles and sincerely replies "It's good to see you too."  Then she proceeds to knock me on my heels.  Her brow crinkles a bit with concern, and asks "How are you doing?"  I answer "Oh sweetie I'm fine," but stand there astonished that with everything going on to her on the table, one of her first thoughts is for me.  A man introduces himself as Dr. Nelson, and offers me a chair right next to Nancy's head.  I see the tag on his scrubs and say "You're the anesthesiologist?" and he nods.  I sit down next to Nancy and stroke her hair a bit.  That makes her notice that she isn't wearing a haircap and she wonders at that for a moment.  She asks whether it's been long, and I tell her no, not very.  She said she went out for a bit, and when she woke there was this large blue screen.  She makes a dry joking comment that I now can't remember, except that it made me smile behind my mask.  We sit there silent for just a bit.

Dr. Nelson looks at me and asks, "Do you want to see them born?"  I look back to say "Yes", and he points across the screen and says, "Then stand up."  For as long as I live, I think I will find that moment just before seeing Hazel and Abigail to have it's own significance.  I have no idea if Dr. Nelson meant anything more than to indicate the viewpoint.  But his choice of words struck me, and I will always feel like that moment was my answer to a calling.  I stood up.

Hazel was coming out, butt first.  Dr. Breed was holding things open, and Dr. Capet was working Hazel steadily out.  I was pretty much in awe.  She was mottled, like link sausage, with thin skin that shows the blotchy colors underneath, though she would soon turn uniformly to a bright pink.  The docs wove their hands around and through, and set the umbilical cord to be cut.  Hazel went into a NICU nurse's care and I saw her carried to an isolette.  I turned my head and Abigail was on her way out, coming sideways.  She had the same colors.  They were both very small, but not the way I expected.  Although they were visibly small in size, they were almost as long as the newborn babies in the regular nursery.  They were just so much skinnier.  Instead of the chubby baby fat all over, they were fairly emaciated, like infomercials for starving children somewhere in the third world.  Some place I have also heard "alien-like", which is also true enough.  They were beautiful to me, and fascinating, and I was intent to anything that would tell me they were alright.  I watched them placed in open incubators, where three nurses apiece proceeded to work at various efforts to make the girls safe.  Dr. Capet made an announcement to note the times of birth, which were 2:44 and 2:45 AM, on the morning of March 12th. The nurse practitioner looked at me, and offered a firm and sincere "congratulations" with a nod, followed by the same from each doctor, before turning right back to work.  I'll return to something about this later.

Nancy spoke up.  She wanted to know if they were OK.  She didn't and couldn't see them from her vantage, and she had not heard any crying, which she told me.  I quickly turned to Lisa to see if she had some specifics. I had seen them coming out, and watched them squirm at the air, and react to the bright light.  I could see the nurses worked quickly, but in a paced manner without apparent alarm.  I hoped to offer a little more than that though. Lisa said calmly, "The nurses are stabilizing them now, so they can be moved." I turned back to Nancy and said "They're ok, they're just stabilizing them now." She seemed satisfied with that for the moment.  As tight as the whole situation looked, it felt like things were still under control.  I stood next to Nancy and we both watched the nurses flit around the isolettes in fairly coordinated motion.  The doctors were at work again on her, starting to put things back together.  Noticing that, my concern for Nancy returned, so I looked at what they were doing.

I had already seen the girls come out, and the part about seeing that much of Nancy hadn't affected me. That didn't change when I looked to see them doing the rest of the work.  I had thought that perhaps being so awed by the girls had kept my wife's guts merely peripheral to my attention.  But looking straight at things didn't create any new discomfort.  I was only curious at a couple of things that were different than I would have guessed.  There were more different and distinct colors of things, where I had expected most everything to be varied sorts of red.  I had thought that they would do all the finishing work on the inside.  It was curious that they actually pulled things out, and flopped them onto her stomach to do some work suturing and sealing where there was easier access.  It made sense, but was simply something I'd not considered until now.  The only thing that briefly concerned me was when they returned things into place.  I had expected a simple placement, but getting things back into proper alignment apparently takes more force.  They had to shove a bit to get things back home, but they were decisive in the doing, so I just looked to see if Nancy noticed.  The anesthesiologist had done his job well, and it was nothing more than a mere shifting of the table to her.

Over my shoulder, a nurse told me I could take a picture if I wanted.  Nancy glanced up and nodded at me, and I was already pulling out the camera.  I walked over, and took the very first pictures of our children.  Hazel was set to go to the NICU, and they were still finishing up with Abby.

Now bright pink, and still stuns me as beautiful

After only another minute, they set Abigail into the same isolette as Hazel.  While they wouldn't remain co-bedded, it was an efficient way to get them into the NICU together.  Abby was wrapped up a little more, with blankets around her instead of the plasic sheet over Hazel.

The sisters together, ready to roll

I had time for only the two pictures, and then had to step out of the way.  I went over and showed the pictures to Nancy, since that would be the best view she would have had of them the whole time. After a brief look, a nurse said "we're taking them to NICU, why don't you come."  I started up, but then turned, thinking to kiss Nancy before I left.  I had bent over to her cheek before realizing I still had a surgical mask on.  So I leaned to her ear and told her "I love you."  She said it back, and and then nodded as I said I had to go.  The staff was already out the door with the incubator, wasting no time.  So I strode out behind them to catch up.

Welcome to the NICU

As I mentioned earlier, the staff offered me congratulations.  I think I will always appreciate that they focused overwhelmingly on my wife and kids, but also took a single second to acknowledge me. From earlier days of sweating it out in a waiting room, access to birth is a lot different for fathers these days.  However, you are still an observer with little to offer, and helplessness threatens at your mind.  That has not changed, no matter where you are when things go down.  The single word of acknowledgement from them was simple, but the only reminder I needed that I was part of something wonderful, even as scary as everything was for us.

Still, there are no shortage of images that abound to put you on your heels.  Walking into the NICU, you go into a large, open room with stations along the wall.  Only curtains separate the incubators, and all of them are pulled back at that time of night.  If you are admitted during a more visitor heavy part of the day, you'll receive either polite attempts to ignore you, or strained and sympathetic looks from the parents of the NICU.  Only four days later, Nancy and I would watch another father come in with his newborn, this time as relative veterans already.  It was very, very bizarre.  There was this man, 6 foot 3, and his entire posture was frozen with tension.  He was sort of leaned in, like he wanted to move forward to act, and hunched over, with the realization that there was nothing he could do.  He stood there staring at the activity around his little girl, and wondering if everything was stable, and how long it would stay that way.  Watching that was like an out of body experience.  I saw myself in that guy, and it took me right back to the moment I stood there the same way.  It is frightening when a new child is admitted.  There is something very negatively cathartic about it.  You become reminded of a place where things were still on the edge, and that there are still events that could take you right back to that point.  I wanted to reach out to the man, but at that moment there was nothing I could do for him.  Things can be different only hours later, but at the time you will be absorbed by what is going on around your baby.  Speaking to another NICU parent, I was told they had watched as a new baby was admitted, but instead of the usual 2-3 nurses working around the incubator, there were seven.  Instead of a pace you would call "urgent", they were something approaching "frantic".  Even if your child is in strong shape, it is a horribly demoralizing thing to see another fighting so precariously.  For now though, we were the new ones, and nobody but staff was up at zero dark thirty to witness the admission.  If they had, it would be less scary and more sympathetic, as Hazel and Abby were pretty stable. Six nurses steadily settled two babies into separate isolettes.

There is a lot more to say about life in the NICU, especially when you spend many weeks there.  But that will be for another post.  At the time, it was obvious that things had settled down, and I was assured that things were in a stable place.  The twins were safe in isolettes, and hooked up to an array of instruments that reported continuously on their vitals.  Pulse oximeters, heart monitors, ventilators, thermometers, and heaters were all steadily going.  There are alarms attached to each one to indicate failure (which become a very familiar chorus).  But the pulses were steady, the oxygen saturation was normal, the temperature was holding, and the nurses had gone into an observation mode.  They asked me if I had any questions.  I shook my head, just wanting to look at the twins for awhile.

Back in C-section recovery

Before we had determined that Nancy was going surefire into birth, Lisa had given me a courtesy debrief.  I was told, "wink, wink", that I wasn't to "wink, wink" be told the combination to the snack/nutrition center in labor and delivery.  But she couldn't help it if smart guys saw the combo and remembered it while she wasn't looking.  Good looking out soldier, here's a hooah! from the Marines.  I didn't take gross advantage, but made a stop there to hydrate a little with some juice on the way back to C-section recovery.  Lisa had given me all the bearings to know where the OR was, which direction the NICU was, and where mothers were taken to recover from the abdominal surgery after delivery.  Once things were settled down in the NICU, I went back to see if I could meet Nancy and let her know anything there was to tell.  For the 15 minutes it took for Nancy to arrive, I overheard Lisa on a brief phone conversation with another staff member.  They went down a list of pre-existing conditions that could affect a preterm labor.  It was a list of no's all the way down.  I decided to call up my mom, to try and start talking to the new grandparents in person.  I was sure Steve had gotten a hold of them, but I was the only one with new information.  I was able to tell my mom that things were ok for now, we didn't know why things had happened, and I was still waiting on Nancy.  Very nearly on cue, the doors swung open and in she came on the rolling bed.  I hung up with Mom, and Nancy and I caught up.

We're glad at least no one was around to take a close up.

After that, Nancy stayed there until there were indications she was ready to move.  It was only a while, although I don't recall how long.  It must've been between an hour or two, as they watched her condition coming off of anesthesia.  At that point in the night, our sense of time was basically whacked anyway.  I took some time to get things together from our labor and delivery room, so it could be quickly moved into a post-partum hospital room when Nancy was ready.

I will recall in another post, some of the conversations I had with family over that time.  It was during Nancy's time in the recovery room that I was able to call all the new grandparents and Steve.  But know that they were given a report, and upon returning from those calls, it was only a short while until we were taken to Room 236, which would be our home for the remainder of Nancy's and my stay in the hospital.  Those four days are sort of a story of their own, but one already a lot more familiar to anyone who's done the drill.  There are vitals checks, sleep interruptions, paperwork, and medications to take.  Naming the babies was a process we had to finalize then as well, which deserves some record I'm sure.

But somewhere after a very long and strenuous 18-22 hours or so, Nancy and I just crashed.  We had slept our last restful night earlier that weekend.  This would be the sleep of a parent, which is characterized much differently by most.  But Hazel and Abigail were here (twins A and B for the time), and they were ok, and they were beautiful.  I have heard and read that it can take time for attachment to form with a baby, especially for fathers.  But for me I was instantly hooked.  I've been a father for all of 7 weeks now, and it is flat out marvelous, lack of sleep be damned.

But that concludes the major events of the night that the Pair of Scates were born.  I'm glad to have this account down.  It was my pleasure to share with all of you, and a relief that we have a record of things. I'm told that it's very easy to forget much of your entire first few months of parenthood.  But I'm short of sleep even now, as I'm back at work and new at Dad-hood and all its duties.  I'll be back with more for you all later.

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Matt Scates

Austin, TX