A First Visitor

Will's very first visitor at home was none other than Grandma Emmie within an hour of his arrival home! It is just so right that she was his first visitor! It was sooo good to finally be able to have visitors! She kept giving Will sidelong glances while I fed him, and came over to see him briefly. After he'd eaten she had free license to hold, hug and squeeze him! It was so good to have my wonderful friend holding yet another of my new babies. Grandma Emmie and I knew each other for a while before we became friends. Once we were friends we were thick as thieves from that day on. She is very, very dear to me in so many ways, but especially when it comes to my babies. We've had the exact same discussion every time she's held one of my new babies. My babies are her babies and The Littles are her Littles. They have never done without for the lack of natural grandparents in their lives. They've always had Grandma Emmie and Grammy and Grandpa R, and even Grandpa's mom, Great Grandma R!

Grandma Emmie was able to rub a burp out of The Willister as only a seasoned pro can do! And she noticed how strong he was. "Look at him holding his head up like this! He's so strong already!" Grandma Emmie is truly a wonderful Grandma, and always the first to sing the praises of The Littles!

Grandma Emmie and The Girlie had had their heads together for days about something. When the Girlie got home later, I got to find out. She came out with a gift bag she'd been hiding in her room. I don't know where she'd hidden it, but she'd done a good job of it!


Inside was a darling little romper for Jack and a pretty bracelet for me! She was quite proud of herself for keeping the secret!



"It was supposed to be for the Baby Shower," she said, "But you can have it now!" Too, too sweet!

Going Home!

Getting dressed in his special going home outfit from Grandma Emmie!

On our way!

Day Four

Late in the afternoon yesterday, the magic potion that chased away the monsters chewing on my insides was discontinued. I was grateful for an oversight that had me getting it for that long. The nurse informed me that it should have been discontinued sooner, but someone had made a mistake. Consequently I was in sheer misery. The night nurse had seen how miserable I was and had taken Will's 3 am and 6 am feeding upon herself, waking me only to swallow pain medication. Bless her!

The day nurse today however was very brisk and rather nasty. She was very young and perky. I'm sure she wasn't old enough to have even started her periods yet, nor to have allowed her bouncy little body to have been marred by a pregnancy, much less her sanity and ability to focus to be rattled by the demands of a newborn for crying out loud! She didn't greet me the way most nurses greet the patient they're meeting for the first time. No, her version was more like, "Hi, I'm Perfect, your day nurse I understand you let the night nurse feed your baby overnight but that isn't going to happen today You're probably going to go home today and that isn't going to happen unless we can see that you can handle it evidenced by your being able to feed your baby for at least two consecutive feeds in a row before they will release him to go home with you" All of that was delivered with zero pause for punctuation and many smirks for emphasis on some words. And then she was gone. She disappeared. Poof! Apparently I was the worst mother on the planet because the night nurse had let me rest. How dare she show kindness to me? How dare I accept it? What was the world coming to?

So the day started rather pleasantly. That was sarcasm. A lab tech came to poke Jack's poor little much bruised heel and then squeeze his last remaining few drops of blood in his body out of his body and into a little vial. The band aid she applied went from his outside ankle all the way around and up over the inside ankle. Poor Little Peanut!

So I dutifully handled the nine am, noon and three pm feedings all by myself. My worth as a mother was tentatively re-established at the 3 pm feeding when I was able to provide Jack-Snack with 40 mls of pumped breast milk! Nurse Perfect went off duty at 3pm. Good riddance to her. A nurse named Bambi took over. That was really her name. Now I've been really careful to protect the anonymity of every one I've spoken about here. Even Dr Skeevy. But Nurse Bambi was a real piece of work. She was the one who informed The Beloved and I that Jack's bilirubin was back down to the safe range and we could go home! Today!

Once that news was had, the process of explaining my discharge instructions was started. By Bambi. I sat upright in my bed, Bambi sat in another chair next to The Beloved. At one point in my discharge instructions, she actually got up and scooted her chair closer to him. And she spoke mostly to him throughout. She occasionally glanced in my general direction. Apparently I was not to be trusted with information. And then her posture changed. The Beloved and I had already exchanged at least a few eyebrow raising glances with each other. But now Bambi was sitting with her upper body curved toward The Beloved, and she was leaning over the arm of her chair, almost touching him. She crossed her legs. And then crossed them again. What the heck...? When she reached out to place her hand on his arm to emphasise a point, he leaned back while looking at me like a deer caught in headlights! Clearly I was not imagining what I was seeing. Did she just flip her hair? Yes! She did! She flipped her hair! The Beloved's amazed glance to me confirmed that she had! Nurse Bambi was on the prowl! And she's at least my age, so I think the term Cougar is more than appropriate! When she stood to leave she spoke only to The Beloved, "If you have any questions," she circled a phone number, "just give me a call! I'm off at eleven." Big beaming toothy smile. Bleached blonde hair. Extremely tan skin. In the middle of November. And she handed the papers to him and sauntered out without a last glance at me.

The Beloved and I sat there for a few beats. We both wore small slightly entertained smirks. Then he shook himself off. Literally! "What just happened?" he asked. "I'd say you've been propositioned!" I said. "She was flirting with me, wasn't she?" "I'd say so!" I said. "How do you feel about that?" he asks. I say it's skeevy and unprofessional, especially given the circumstances. "Yeah," he says, "You've just had a baby and you're her patient, but she was hitting on me." While we started packing me up, a mischievous thought occurred to him, "Hey, you're obviously out of commission for a while, maybe Nurse Bambi..." with a goofy grin. "Well," I said, "You have until 11 to find out!" And then he went on about how she said "I'm off at eleven. Not I'll be here until eleven." And he says no one ever flirts with him!

I've since decided that Nurse Bambi had fallen under the olfactory affect that a feather clad John Travolta angel cast over all those women in the movie Michael. After all, The Beloved's pipe tobacco quite often has him emanating an aroma that smells just like baking sugar cookies. I must be getting old. Rather than pissing me off, the whole Bambi thing was rather entertaining.

Once out to the van, thankfully with an aid and not Nurse Bimbo, the Beloved said Nurse Bambi might be lurking to get our plate number so she could stalk him. The aid very quickly assessed the situation inside the van. It appears that in our haste, Miss K and I installed the car seat incorrectly. The aid popped it out, corrected the situation, popped Little Snake into the seat, and then snapped the whole thing, baby and all, into position! And we were off! Soon we would be home with our Little Bundle!

The Neon Fly

Day Three

Day three saw me feeling better after a night, or what was left of it, in bed. My Little Peach once again failed his hearing test, and we were set up for an appointment for two weeks from birth.


Yep, he's still a little dinker, this time in only a diaper.

I'd hoped to be going home today, but my Little Snooks' labs weren't satisfactory yet and he had to stay under the bili lights for another day. I spent our time alone feeding him, diapering him, burping him and holding him to stare at him until he had to go back into The Box. I kept trying to figure out what it was I was seeing while the Dear Daddy held him. What was that look? Devotion? Was he simply smitten? I got another chance to figure it out in the afternoon when the Dear Daddy arrived and stood by his box looking at him, but I was no closer to figuring it out. When he went home again in the evening, when the Little Spud-pie was in my arms, I had to admit that I'd been bitten by the same bug. And that I was no closer to naming it.

No matter. It was a sweet affliction that I was happy to have. This tiny little boy who was different, this little small baby with his extra chromosomes, this bitsy little being with his puffy face and one fat toe on the right foot, had already begun to spin his magic on his family. And I was in love again!

And I have to admit that he looked awfully cute with his foam sunglasses, his neon green, yellow and purple pacifier clamped between his lips, and the bright shooting star blue light shooting out all around him. He was my little star! Even if he did look like a psychedelic fly in that get up!

Again with the Giant Baby Boxes

After a good day of holding our Ducky and feeding him, burping him, changing his didees and watching him sleep, The Beloved went home to prepare for our anticipated home coming the next day. And about that diaper changing? That was all me. The Beloved has sworn off diaper changing because, "You always yell at me for doing it wrong and then you change it all over again!" To which I respond, "Well if you'd just pay attention just once and figure out how to do it so it doesn't leak I wouldn't have to do it over again!" It's a long tired old argument in our home, but one that I think I will let him win. Besides, Billie-Sue-Jim-Bob is quite prone to peeing everywhere!

I was sitting in bed holding My Lamb Chop and wondering at his little face, hands and fingers, nose, ears, and suddenly...he opened his eyes! It was just the tiniest little bit, but he did open them! I started speaking silly to him trying to encourage him to do it again! And he did! It wasn't nearly enough for me to see what color they are, but it was enough to have me spend the next 30 minutes trying to get a picture of it!




I made the long painful trek across the room to figure out how to turn on the bright lights as I'd only had the dim soft lights on over my bed. And of course, The Jack Snack promptly decided that was enough eye opening for the day. He hadn't looked at me, and I don't think he really had them open for long enough to see anything, but he did finally open them! He really did have eyes in there of a dark color. Probably newborn blue.

And then...dang it all if a nurse didn't come into our room with another giant baby box! I was immediately alarmed. "You aren't taking him again are you?" No, she said, he would stay in my room with me. If anything, this new baby rotisserie was even bigger than the one he was in before. She went about plugging in the giant box and then plugging in other equipment and putting it inside while she explained what it was all for. It seems that Jackie-Boys liver was still too immature to handle his own metabolic waste and his bilirubin levels were rising. They wanted to stop that process before it got dangerous for him and help him to break down the waste. She instructed me to undress him down to his diaper.

I have to admit that my heart hammered a little while I got my Sweet Little Spud naked once again. Once he was stripped the nurse poked him gently in a few places to show me that he was indeed getting a wee bit yellow. Maybe I'd have to call him Yam instead of Spud. I'd thought yesterday that he was looking a tad squash colored, but he'd been in the NICU! I thought for sure that if he was having problems they would have said. Well...now they'd said! And into the box he went. He was stripped down and placed onto a fabric like pad that glowed neon purplish blue. A funny looking grey foam shield shaped comically like sunglasses was strapped to his head to prevent damage to his eyes. Another bright goose-necked lamp was positioned to shine onto his tummy.

The nurse brought me another pain shot and then I hobbled over to The Box so she could show me how to operate it. She said I could take him out every three hours to feed, burp and diaper him. Again with the three hours! She admonished that if I didn't follow the rules, he'd be taken back to NICU for his phototherapy. I promised dutifully that I would. Of course I would! It was what was best for him! And he at least got to stay with me this time! She showed me how to open the doors, different than the NICU box, and how to shut off the alarm if it was open too long. She showed me how to open the lid to take him out. No clothes, no socks, no blankets. And she left. With my Bunchkin now glowing like a shooting star.

Not being able to hold My Little Yam certainly put a damper on the evening's festivities. I did figure out how to pull his Easy Bake away from the wall and closer to my bed so I could at least see him. And the goose-necked lamp cord length dictated that I had to move it back a few feet. Dang. But I could still see him! I watched the clock and every three hours I took him out, diapered him to wake him up, fed him, burped him, and mourned the minutes that slipped away too fast until I had to put him back in.

In the middle of the night Jack wouldn't stop fussing. I stood at his side for about an hour stroking his tummy and whispering to him, but every time pain overwhelmed me and I wanted to get back into bed, he started crying again. I simply could not tolerate to hear my Sweet Little Dolly of a baby cry, so I'd lean there again with my arms stuck into the little holes so I could stroke him. That his cries were so weak and plaintive just made it all the more heart breaking. Finally I opened the lid and scooped him out. I'd noticed they'd given him a pacifier in the NICU, a big round ugly green job that wasn't at all cute, so I gave him the one I'd brought for him and snuggled him to me. I carefully laid him back into the giant box and stroked him for a few more minutes until he was asleep. As soon as I stopped, he started fussing and waiving his arms and legs and kicking. I called for the nurse and when she came in she showed me how to bundle up blankets into that horse shoe shape and settled him into it. He was happy with that. It made him feel more secure, she said. I felt like crap that I hadn't known that. I started to cry. The nurse sent me back to bed.

She came back in a few minutes with a pain shot. As she was giving me the injection with one hand and patting my shoulder with the other she said, "You're having quite a bit more pain tonight." I looked up to nod my tear streaked face at her and she gave me a look that made her face morph into that of my Mother's. And she was giving me a look that I remember my Mother giving me. A look that said, "I know what you did!" Her glasses slipped to the end of her nose when she tipped her head to look down at me. "It seems you might have hurt yourself moving the isolette and lamps closer to your bed." I said nothing. Guilty as charged. I'd been busted. Even though she was the night nurse and I'd moved The Box after the day nurse went off duty and before the night nurse made her rounds. "And I hear you stripped your own bed this morning." She tsk'd at me! "You aren't on the housekeeping crew. You need to act like a patient, not a nurse!" With that she informed me that I was to stay in bed for the rest of the night. She would be back to feed the baby and she would let me hold him for a few minutes after he was burped. "No arguing!" And she turned down the lights and left.

Easy Bake Oven

More Pictures

Back in his isolette in my room where he belongs!
Having a snuggle with The Other Mommy!
Propped up on a pillow in my bed.
He may look good and chunky, but notice that the left sleeve is twice as long as his arm! Also notice the bandaged feet where his IV's had been. Poor little feets!
On the scale again...his original birth weight with clothes and a diaper on. He looks chunky and plump though!

Day Two

The morning came and with it my pain meds and a breakfast tray I had absolutely no interest in. I made myself eat so I could produce milk. So far I'd only managed to provide My Little Dumpling with less than an ounce of colostrum two different times. I got up to shower. No water in the history of mankind has ever been so soothing to the soul as that shower was! I dressed and called the nurse for fresh linens. When she brought them, she asked out loud, "Why didn't the aid finish the bed?" Oh, I did that, both of us eyeing my stripped bed in the high position for ease of remaking, and the pile of dirty linens on the floor next to it. Of course she scolded me. She made my bed in short order and then ordered me back into it. "But I want to go down to NICU," I said. "Not today hon, he's coming to you!" And it was right on cue that a NICU nurse wheeled My Little Bunny back into my room in his giant Baby Easy Bake and transferred him to his normal sized isolette! Oh happy day! He'd officially been sprung from the NICU!

And the nurse was sure to post Willie's NICU name sign at the head of his isolette!

Shortly after My Sweet Boy returned to my room, another gal came in wheeling a long flat table like thing. It seems Jack was to have a hearing test. She attached sticky tabs to his forehead, temples and the back of his head and put clear kidney shaped plastic cups over his ears. It took about a half hour to determine that while Jack could hear, he wasn't going to pass his hearing test today. She assured me that most cesarean babies do not pass on their first tries, not to worry, that it was probably just fluid in his ear canals. They would try again tomorrow.

We spent our first full day together in semi drugged bliss. My pain level remained quite high. After each dose of meds I was really fine for about two and a half hours, but when it came back it came back with a vengeance. And we had a visitor!

This is The Other Mommy!

Between first The Other Mommy in the early afternoon, and then The Dear Daddy and I, Willie got 35 ounces of formula every three hours and then a burp and diaper change. I added whatever amounts I was able to produce to his formula. The Dear Daddy finally decided he was gentle enough to hold his tiny son without crushing him and he was quite the pro and feeding him and patting a burp out of him! There's nothing quite so fine as the special look in a father's eyes as he looks at his newborn. It makes a woman's heart get all squishy. And there was something different there this time. That word again, different. I wasn't able to define it then and I still am not. It went beyond tenderness. It went beyond awe. It went beyond love. I have no earthly words to describe what I saw in My Loves eyes while he looked at tiny little William. The best I can come up with is sacred.

NICU Take III

I was sitting there in the NICU holding My Little Bundle when I looked up to see The Dear Daddy standing just outside the entry to Jack's room. As he came closer his eyes were on his son. I could smell the soap from his 3 minute scrub as he leaned in to kiss me. It was just so good that he was home. He pulled up a chair next to us and wrapped his arm around me, us. After a few minutes of looking and eye wiping he asked again if he was really doing alright? Yes! He's been off oxygen for almost an hour. His vital signs are fine. He ate and pooped and burped and was doing just fine. He was even being allowed out of his box for a longer period!

I unwrapped Jack for a few minutes so his Daddy could see him. His tiny pink fingers wrapped around a giant finger when he touched his palm. His tiny little fingers couldn't close around my finger, much less his Dad's. The IV was now in the other foot, but it was capped off now. And he had a shirt on, and the socks I'd brought this time, lumpy from the IV hub. So we sat there staring at our baby. The Beloved spoke silly to him, just like he had to both of The Newborn Littles. What color are his eyes? "I don't know. He hasn't opened them for me or the nurse yet." He's awfully puffy isn't he? "Yes, but it will go away in a few days." I asked The Beloved if he wanted to hold him? "No!" immediate alarm in his eyes. "He's too small. I'm afraid I'd crush him." So we sat there holding each other, holding Will.

All too soon it was time to put him back into the Easy Bake. William's little forehead furrowed when his Dad's mustached lips kissed his nearly bald pink head. "Okay Baby Boy. You be good in your little box. Your Mom and I are going to get some rest." He kissed him again before the nurse lowered the top of the isolette, and I was struck once again by just how giant The Beloved looks to me, especially when framed by tiny little Jack in his giant isolette.

The trip back to my room was a hard one. I was in a lot of pain. The NICU nurse suggested that maybe I should stay in my room tonight, that our Little Bean would probably be with us by morning. I leaned heavily on The Beloved while we walked very slowly. Maybe I'd made too many trips on foot down that hall and back. Maybe I was in more pain than I had been. Maybe it was just that My Love was here now and I didn't have to carry it all myself.

We spent the evening together, soaking up the sight of each other. I took the NICU nurses advice and stayed put for the evening. When the night nurse came on duty I spoke with her on the phone and she assured me that she'd call immediately if there was any change to Jack's status. The Beloved looked exhausted. He was road worn and unshaven, but I pretty much like him that way. He was eyeing the roll away bed in the corner, but we both knew he would sleep better at home in a real bed. When he held me before leaving I breathed deeply of the sugar cookie smell in his jacket from his pipe tobacco. We held each other a long while before kissing each other good night. When he was gone I called the NICU for an update and was assured William was fine. No, he had not yet opened his eyes, maybe he was saving it for me? I went to sleep wondering what color his eyes would be. Olive like My Girlie, or blue like My Middle?

Baby Lilies for Baby Willie

I do believe I've mentioned that The Other Mommy rocks! Late this afternoon she arrived with gifts from The Littles, pictures of The Littles, and flowers! She came in holding a beautiful arrangement of white baby lilies and white roses and the card read, "Baby Lilies for Baby Willie!" So, so sweet!




In the picture she had of The Middle, he was blowing a kiss to me! I'm telling you, The Other Mommy puts Mary Poppins to shame!

She'd taken the Kidlets shopping to buy gifts for their new little brother. My Girlie chose a stuffed Eeyore and My Big Boy chose a stuffed Pluto. They explained to The Other Mommy that there was a Pooh and a Rabbit in Jack's crib at home, but no Eeyore or Pluto. I think The Middle may be confusing Pluto with Piglet, but we can always get a Piglet later.


We sat and visited while I pumped. On my last trip back from the NICU, the wheelchair I pushed held a giant bag of preemie nursers so I could pump right into them and feed them to William later. It was really good to have The Other Mommy visit. She and The Beloved would be our only visitors due to the swine flu policy adopted just recently. Two visitors only. Ever. But alas, she could not stay long. I had a feeling that The Littles were running her ragged with the sudden upset to their lives. And The Other Mommy never does anything half way. I know for a fact she was knocking herself out to make sure their stay in her home was as pleasant and fun as possible. She rocks!

NICU

For my second trip down that long hall to the NICU, I was armed with premedication and the nurse set me up to push a wheelchair for balance. It was a painful trip all the same, but my Little Jax was waiting. Once there I did the 3 minute scrub and then manned my wheelchair. And got lost. It seemed I'd forked right when I should have forked left. I made it there by way of seeing other babies who were truly tiny and being assisted by ventilators. Their incubators were draped to keep out light. Some of them were laying on glowing blue lights. As I pushed along the hall I thanked my God that Jack was doing well.

I was just in time to open Jack's isolette and change his diaper. And then something wonderful! "He poopied!" I said to the nurse. "That means his bowel is intact, right?" She came over to see the meconium. "Yes, that's what that means. I've been waiting for that!" And more good news, his oxygen had been reduced to .25L. His vital signs were all stable and had not wavered. Once again, he was taken off the oxygen to eat.

He was allowed out of his isolette for another 30 minute period. It took him almost that long to eat that ounce and quite a bit ran down his chin. The nurse said it might take him a while to learn how to suck, swallow and breath, but his wet diapers and now the poopy were indications that he was getting enough. The nurse showed me how to hold him upright and forward on my lap with his chin cradled into my hand and my fingers under his armpits to burp him. His little face was puffier than it had been and his little chin was no longer so pointy. His IV was now in his foot and I noticed that both of his little hands bore bruises and little poke holes from IV attempts.

Once he burped we had a few more minutes before he had to go back into the baby rotisserie. I sat looking at my newborn son. I was trying to take in all of him. His little face was now almost moon round and his eyes seemed to be even puffier. "Has he opened his eyes yet?" No, he mostly slept. Hadn't cried at all. Only fussed a little when he spit up. So we sat there, he and I. I whispered to him and noted that he turned his open mouth toward my finger stroking his cheek. His puffy little cheek.


I was trying to soak in this little being in my arms. I was trying to reconcile Down syndrome to my precious son. Clearly he had it. There was no denying his facial features. And the one straight line across each palm. The proof of the diagnosis was right there in front of me. But why didn't I feel heartbroken? Why was I not sobbing my eyes out? Why wasn't I filled with sadness every time I looked at him? Why wasn't that long trek down the hallway filled with dread? That is what I was expecting. But I was filled with anticipation while I waited for the secretary to allow me past the big doors and into the NICU. I wanted so very badly to rush my 3 minute scrub so I could see him. The trip down the long NICU hallway and one turn to the right was filled with urgency. I couldn't wait to feast my eyes on him. My Baby. With Down syndrome. This tiny little boy I was just getting to know, but felt that I'd known already for my whole life.

When the nurse said it was time I gingerly hoisted myself out of the rocking chair while holding him tightly to my chest. Once out of the chair and actually on my feet, it was really hard to straighten to a standing position. Once fully upright, I kissed his temple, whispered to him how much I loved him, and told him I would be back in a little while. And then I put him back into his toaster oven and tucked the U-shaped roll of blankets under his diapered bottom with a prayer to The Great I Am to keep him safe. I was sad indeed when I got back to my room and saw Jack's now empty isolette, seemingly abandoned there, along with his little socks.

When I got back to my room there were messages from The Beloved. The first one was to tell me he would be home in a few hours. The second was a progress update, and where was I? Was I sleeping? The third one was to tell me he was almost there, and where was I? He was getting worried. Call me. He sounded relieved when I got him on the phone. Where was I? It might have been the narcotics and it might have been the relief that we seemed to have turned full circle since I watched scared silly as Willie was taken from me that morning, and it may have just been sleep deprivation. It had completely slipped my mind that The Dear Daddy knew nothing of this whole day so far. I said I'd been down to the NICU to visit the baby. At the alarm in his voice I quickly backtracked to this morning, the respiratory distress, that he was doing really well now, that the cardiologist said he would be fine. "He's doing alright now?" He was alarmed. I kicked myself for blurting it out that way. "Yes, he's doing really well, his oxygen has been turned way down and I've gotten to hold him and feed him and change his diaper and the nurse said his vital signs have been great. He's doing good. Really." I told him how sorry I was that I'd just blurted it out but he said it was okay, I had enough on my mind worrying about the baby. He said he'd be here as soon as possible.

A New Day

With morning came a little difficulty in nursing. Jack latched on fine, but kept coming off and going back to sleep. I'd heard that Ds babies could be sleepy. This seemed to be what I was seeing. The morning nurse came on duty and assessed me and then moved Jack back to his isolette to assess him. She undressed him so she could see his chest movements. And then she called one of the NICU nurses to assess him, because he seemed to have some accessory muscle use and some sternal retractions. The NICU nurse brought an SpO2 monitor and hooked it to Jack's little foot. He wasn't saturating well. He remained nice and pink but he'd started having nasal flaring. The NICU nurse called a respiratory therapist and she put him on "blow-by" oxygen and his saturations improved and he stopped having retractions, but once again, my newborn was surrounded by medical personnel. After a few minutes they took the O2 off and his saturations dropped. They did this a few times with the same results and then phone calls were made and then the decision to take him to the NICU. All I could really do was watch while they wheeled in a giant covered isolette. The nurse handed him to me to kiss before they closed him up naked except for his diaper in the isolette and wheeled him away.


The nurse said that NICU would call me as soon as I could visit him there. She gave me pain meds and recommended that I try to sleep.

I must have cried myself to sleep thinking about all the things that must be going on in my tiny little baby's body that had him suddenly struggling for air. I was terrified in the way one can only be from knowing that my child, my infant, was in trouble and I could do nothing about it. I remember thinking that this was the begining of big troubles. I woke up to the phone by my bed ringing. The voice on the line introduced himself as Dr Somebody or Other and said he was William's cardiologist. His WHAT? My tiny little baby had a cardiologist? He'd done a Doppler color flow and an echocardiogram on Jack's heart. The reason for the distress he explained was that Jack has a small VSD, an opening between the ventricles, and that it was so small it would likely close within a few days. He said he was 'in house' if William had any more problems. If I had any questions I could call him. So. That was the problem. A small VSD. That was music to my ears. I could deal with a small VSD. That would likely close within a few days. That would not require surgery!

When I hung up the phone with the doctor I buzzed the nurse to take me down to NICU. She brought a wheelchair and helped me get loaded into it. Once in the NICU I had to stand at a sink and do a three minute scrub. The NICU secretary set a timer for me. It was a long three minutes. I couldn't wait to see my baby. Once done I was loaded back into the wheelchair and taken down the longest hallway of my life. Jack must be in pretty good shape, because he was farthest down at the end, the secretary explained. She stopped just outside of a diamond shaped room with stars and moons in the floor and embossed in the ceiling tiles.



A nurse was standing at a covered isolette with a pink baby inside. My Baby. My Jack. My William.


The nurse said he was due to eat in 30 minutes, that in 20 minutes I could take him out of the isolette to diaper him and then I could sit in the rocker to feed him. She explained that the cardiologist had ordered that he be bottle fed until the VSD closed. She explained that he shouldn't expend extra energy nursing until his heart was healed. She showed me how to open the little doors so I could touch him. He was once again naked except for a diaper. The nurse had snuggled him into a U-shaped roll of blankets and explained that it would help him feel secure. There was an IV tubing coming from under wrapping on his right hand. I could see the hub sticking out and noticed the IV pump for the first time.


He had a tiny little cannula in his nose, and EKG patches on his tiny chest. An SpO2 probe was wrapped around his tiny foot and glowed red.

There was a minuscule blood pressure cuff on his bitsy little arm. I looked at the monitor. His vital signs were all good, the nurse said. He'd stabilized, she said. While I stood there stroking his hand with my thumb, his fingers tightly wrapped around mine, the nurse explained that his oxygen had been reduced to .5L, so if he did well with his next feeding, he would likely stay off oxygen. She pulled a chair up to his isolette so I could sit by him while holding his hand. His tiny little hand. I asked if he had opened his eyes yet. No, not yet. Not since she'd admitted him to the NICU, and she'd been at his side continually.

When the 20 minutes had passed, the nurse showed me how to raise the lid on the isolette so I could change William's diaper. Then she had me sit in the rocker on the other side while she wrapped him in a blanket and then she lifted him into my arms. She took the oxygen off but his IV was still running. She said he had to eat 35 mls. That was barely an ounce, but the doctor had calculated what he needed to eat. I finally noticed that he was getting TPN. She showed me how to keep him upright to eat. He was quite messy about the whole affair. I'm pretty sure that at least 1/4 of that ounce had ran down his chin. His cute pointy little chin. It took a long time to feed him because he kept falling asleep. When the nurse put him back into the box she said she would try to leave his oxygen off as long as he did well. I took a few more pictures to keep with me until I could have William back.




By the time he'd eaten the required amount, I was done in. The NICU nurse called my nurse and said, "Mom needs pain meds and an escort back." The NICU nurse said she'd burp Jack and put him back into his bed. My nurse arrived and gave me a pain shot. They both helped me into the chair. I was just barely able to stand because I was hurting so badly. The NICU nurse said that if I came back in exactly 3 hours, I could feed him again. I noticed as my nurse wheeled me away that Jack's isolette was decorated at the foot with a bright blue piece of paper with his name on in, thin strips of blue ribbon, and stamps of baby footprints. Sweet!

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That simple little act of kindness, that personalizing of his isolette, let me leave him for a while and still know that not only was he was being taken care of, but that he was being cared for.

Love at First Sight

Sometime around two am The Other Mommy went home. She'd had a full eventful day to say the least, and we both knew The Middle would be up before the chickens.

It was about four in the morning when a nurse came in wheeling "A visitor" for me. When I finally got to hold my little William the first time with just the two of us, all of my fears and worries fell away. I held him to me and pressed my lips to his temple. "There's my little Stinkerie," I whispered, "I missed you baby." Over the next little while we made another attempt at nursing and I got to know my newborn. I say 'another' because I have the proof of pictures that The Other Mommy took in recovery that we did try to nurse then.


It seemed like I'd had only minutes with him then, and I have only the vaguest memory of holding him to my breast and helping him to latch on, and wondering if I could indeed live through the pain in my body.

And now here he was in my arms to savor. His little face was pink and rather round, puffy. He did look quite a bit like The Middle, but rounder, in a "same but different" kind of way. His head was shaped perfectly. His little eyes were puffy and shut tightly, with little lines across the lids. His little mouth was pursed tightly into a rose bud. I could see his eyes moving under the lids. I wondered if he was dreaming or trying to figure out how to open his eyes. He had a smattering of delicate light brown hair. I first checked to see that all three sections were present in both pinkie fingers. They were. He had one straight simian line along both palms. I pressed my lips to his miniature hands, kissing them both. His eyes may be a little tilted, but it was hard to tell with him so puffy. His nose was perfectly shaped, tiny little bridge and all. And weren't his ears supposed to be very small and set too low? They weren't. His ears looked like any other newborns ears and they were set the perfect distance between the corner of his mouth and the corner of his eye.


I laid him in the bed in front of me and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His arms were just the right amount of fleshy. His elbows pointy. I counted his fingers as they gripped mine. I lifted his shirt to see his belly and chest, noted the clamp around his now purple inked umbilicus. Remembered how broad and robust The Middles' chest was at birth, noted how small and narrow Jack's was. Smiled at how huge the newborn diaper was on him. His back was smooth and soft under my lips. His little legs were kicking out in rhythm. He was small. 5 pounds, 15 ounces, 18 1/2 inches long. But he was perfect. And he was mine all mine! As I watched him draw up into a little ball, legs tucking up, arms drawing in, I wondered where the soft floppy baby was? Wasn't he supposed to be soft and floppy? He wasn't. He was just like both of The Newborn Littles. I lifted both tiny feet to my lips. So sweet. Where was that sandal-toed gap? Wasn't he supposed to have that? He didn't. He had charming sweet feet. And the second toe on the right foot was a little larger than all the rest. It overlapped a tiny bit. My thumbs on his soles felt just right. I kissed them again and then fished out some tiny little white socks for his feet. Even with the cuffs folded down they went almost to his knees. Sweet little round baby knees.

The nurse brought me another magical dose of pain relieving potion. When I could finally ward off fatigue no longer, I wrapped William up tight and settled him in next to me for a nice sleep. No longer under my heart, but right next to it. Right by my side, held in the circle of my arm, my lips on his forehead for easy access to kissing. My last thoughts were of how I'd first slept with both of The Littles this way. And now it was William in our newborn bed. Just where he should be.

That Night

I arrived at the hopspittle dragging my rolling suitcase and had the diaper bag and two fluffy pillows in the other hand. The other hand that was also holding my cell phone to talk with The Beloved. We had a dilemma. There was no way he could make it from here to there before the birth of our son even if they waited until morning. We were both hoping against the odds that the docs would stabilize my blood pressure and either wait a few more days to deliver or even send me home. Should he leave now and take the chance that he'd miss the work only to have me sent home anyway? That money would make a big difference in the days after we came home from the hospital. And since there was no way he could make it in time for our son's birth, should he stay there until we knew for sure what was going to happen? There are long stretches of no cell phone coverage between here and there. Long, wide open spaces. What if there were complications? What if someone had to make decisions? What if The Baby had to be moved to a higher level of care...did I want him to stop closer and go to The Baby, or make a two hour long trip so I could discharge myself against medical advice and then we would both turn around to come back the way he'd just come? What to do...The Other Mommy had collected The Kidlets. Miss Susie had locked up the house. Our neighbor was looking after the dogs. The Beloved had asked if I could call someone to be with me. Grandma ME was still at work. Bits was sick. My Big Sis was hours away in the valley. Neither one of us have family nearby except for each other. We said our tearful good byes and I love yous and I strolled into the facility and muttered the much repeated words that by now I've come to hate, "Hi, I'm your direct admit from Dr So & So..."

So...I got an IV. After three tries. A large bore IV. And then they started pumping fluids into my already bloated body. And then they decided to stop that and started giving me boluses of something to bring down my blood pressure. They decided that if my BP bottomed out in surgery they would deal with it then and start pumping the fluids again. If I wound up delivering tonight. If. They monitored Jack with the pink and blue straps. It seemed that I was already having some mild contractions. Then they did other things to my person that I won't detail here, but I won't be needing to get up to pee! And more BP meds. A nurse came in to shave my belly. And then more BP meds. The OR nurse came into my room to review my orders and stopped short. At that particular moment, there were eight other people in my room doing something to me! And then! The Other Mommy appeared behind the OR nurse. She'd left the Kidlets with her husband and returned to be with me! Like I've often said, she rocks!

The appearance of the OR nurse was in itself news. Apparently we were going. Soon. But she had other news too. Good news! The head of anesthesiology was doing my case. She said "He's the best! I've had a spinal from him, and he's really good! He's the guy you want!" And then I guess the obvious question was who would be delivering me? "Oh that's another good one. This is your lucky night! It's Dr ER! You'll have our best anesthesiologist and one of our best surgeons!" And that was good news! Dr ER was the first doctor I'd seen at the PHC and had liked so well, and the one I'd hoped to have when my stitch was placed.

I was calling The Beloved to say that it looked like it would be tonight. Then I heard the OR nurse on her phone saying, "Yeah, blood pressure's good now. Yeah. yeah. She's had three doses, no four...come now? Roll? Okay, We're on our way." She hung up and I'd just barely had time to tell The Beloved that we were going right now. He said he loved me. He sounded as scared as I was. "Please be safe. Please be okay, both of you. I'm so sorry I'm not there." I said I knew. I knew. And that I loved him and I'd call him as soon after as I could. So this was really happening. Our son was going to be born without him here. But at least The Other Mommy was here and she was already suiting up to go to OR with me. The tears started in earnest as I handed my phone to her and they started rolling me down the hall.

Once in OR I was moved to the operating table from the gurney. Then I was instructed by a voice behind and above me to sit up and straddle the table. What followed is an ordeal that makes me want to cry to even recount. I've had several epidurals. They suck while they're being done. This time I was having a spinal. It also sucks to have that done, but a little more so! The shot into the back is nothing. It's that part where the dura are penetrated and the electrical zing and instantly deep bone penetrating ache that hits and spreads rapidly outward and down as the doctor first injects fluid into that space that gives me nightmares. And all the while I was being held by an OR nurse to keep my back curved and my shoulders forward, holding my belly, my baby, in the protective circle of my arms, and trying to breath, trying to hold onto Jack for just a little longer, tears silently rolling down my cheeks. I could feel my pulse in my neck. I thought my head might explode with the pounding of my heart. I was on the verge of panic when the nether voice behind me said that it was all finished and that I should start feeling numb any minute. I was assisted to lay back down. I could still move my legs, just barely, but I could still feel them! Was this normal? Yes said the nether-voice, once again above and behind me. Then the nurse started prepping my belly with orange fluid. People were moving all around me. Suddenly I had a bloody nose from the hydralazine I'd been give so much of. I tell a nurse. She says it's probably nothing. No, I can taste it I insist. "Well..." she looks around, "Here. That's all we have," and she handed me a thick blue sterile fabric OR towel. And then three nurses hoisted my now able to feel but unable to move body into a sitting position and held me while I blew. She seemed impressed that I'd actually gotten a bloody nose. "It's the hydralazine," smiles sympathetically. Then they all three assisted me back into position and the nurse resumed scrubbing with the orange stuff in wide circles, then wiping with cold clear stuff in wide circles. I asked if it was okay that I could still feel my tummy? "Yes," from the nether-voice, "We'll make sure you can't feel anything when it's time. Try to be calm. Try to relax so we don't have to put you to sleep." Relax? Was he nuts? They were about to rip my premature baby from my body and then who knew what kind of health problems he would have! Might as well set my head on fire and then tell me not to think about it! My own heartbeat continued to reverberate through my chest, neck and head. Then someone came rushing in, asking "Do we know for sure that this is Down syndrome?" Yes. "How do we know?" I piped up this time saying "Amniocentesis at 16 weeks." "Okay then." And the person rushed back out. And I laid there weeping quietly. Were we doing the right thing delivering him early? Wasn't it better to keep him in since my blood pressure was okay now? Couldn't I just stay in the hospital and keep doing what we're doing until closer to my due date? I was terrified. It was all I could do to not sit up on the OR table and cradle my belly protectively and order every one to just get away from me and my baby.

I kept looking over at the baby warmer which was now flipped on. People were gathering around it. Blue scrubs clad people. And they were gathering around me. A drape was hung in front of me, blocking my view. My arms were strapped and velcroed to arms that swung out from the table. I was aware of the blue masked doctor that was the nether voice injecting fluids from a syringe into an IV attached to me somewhere. Then was distracted by Dr ER in my vision, and I was vaguely aware that I was a little fuzzy suddenly. "Tracy! I haven't seen you since...well I don't remember when!" He was cheerful and smiling behind his mask, so I wiped my teary face against my shoulder and said, "Since you bailed on my McDonald Procedure!" He laughed and said "Well I'm here for this! This is the important thing, right?" As a nurse put a sterile gown on him, took the rip cord, and another nurse assisted him into sterile gloves. Then all was quiet. "Is my babysitter here yet?" I asked and got confused looks. "I'm sorry. My friend. She's also my babysitter. Is she here yet?" and she was finally allowed into the room to stand by my right shoulder.

I could see a few people's shoulders standing very close to me. I still had some sensation in my feet but no where else. "Are you cutting yet?" I asked. "No" says Dr ER. "Yes you are! I can smell burnt bacon." A nurse at my head says, "That's burnt protein, bacon smells good." Dr ER says, "Okay I am opening but I'm not cutting!" "Okay, cautery then." I asked him to tell me when he opened my uterus. "That's right, you're a nurse aren't you?" he asked by way of answering. I said yes, a very terrified nurse. The next thing I heard was, "We've got fluid. Lots of fluid. Wow, lots of fluid!" I asked if it was clear, he said yes and The Other Mommy patted my shoulder. Then I heard the tiniest of little cries. "Head's out" and I heard suctioning sounds and a few more tiny little mews. "Do you know what you're having?" from Dr ER. "A boy" I say. "You're right!" he said and finally I heard newborn crying, wailing, in a high pitched, somewhat weak baby voice. Jack's voice. My baby William. People were suddenly moving away from the table as I heard, "He's peeing on me!" from Dr ER. "There he goes again!"

You know those shows on TV where they hold the baby over the curtain for Mom to see? That didn't happen. They took him right over to the warmer and while en route I saw people once again stand away and heard that he was peeing again! He was surrounded by blue clad bodies and I could only see what I thought might be a very pink leg. And he peed again.


He was crying all along but it didn't sound to me like a very lusty cry. The Other Mommy went to the warmer and came back to tell me he was okay, he was fine, they were holding oxygen in front of him, but he was pink and wiggly and beautiful and that he looked like The Middle.








But why wasn't his cry more lusty? I waited a few beats and asked what his 1 minute Apgar was. 7. Not bad. Not 9, but not 5 either. Or 2. Every time he stopped crying I looked to The Other Mommy who quickly reassured me. She could actually see him but I was still laying down and could not. Oh yeah...I was still undergoing surgery and would not be scootching up to sneak a look at him. His five minute Apgar was 9. Okay. Nine is good. Nine is very good. Nine is great! No one scores a perfect 10 due to acrocyanosis of the newborn, which basically means their hands and feet stay blue. Finally they wrapped him up in a tiny bundle and brought him to me to see, to kiss, to whisper to before they took him off to recovery, where I was assured I would join him very soon.








Once in recovery I got to see my whole Baby for the time it took them to wheel me past his warmer and put my bed in place across from him. He was under a clear plastic hood to flood his air space with supplemental oxygen because he had been struggling for air.




He was pink and wiggly and I could hear him let out an occasional weak sounding little cry. The spinal had been removed and was wearing off. I could feel everything but I still couldn't move. The Other Mommy had gone with William into recovery and she brought my camera and hers over so I could see pictures she'd taken of him. The head of my bed was about level with Jack's warmer, so all I could really see of him was what I'd be able to see with my eyes level with his bed. She went over to take pictures of him several more times, and then brought them to me. Thank goodness for the digital age! She also fed me ice chips for my parched mouth. She is an angel!

A nurse came to start my PCA. She gave me a bolus of Morphine that took my pain level from 10 down to 9 1/2. She handed me the PCA button and I started watching the clock. This was way more pain than I'd had before. I was able to reach The Beloved and tell him that William was born safely and about his size and length, that he was doing pretty well but was getting some supplemental oxygen. He was tearful. I could hear it in his voice, in the sniffles he tried to hide. I described William to him. Told him how small he was. How perfect he was. "Kiss him for me" he said. I promised him that I would. He was going to try to get some sleep and then make the long trip home. As we hung up he said, "Thank you for being alright. Thank you that you're both alright." And then I had to hang up. My pain level was sky rocketing. Every ten minutes I hit that button hoping, hoping, to hear the beep that meant it was delivering a dose of pain medication. The nurse gave me two more boluses in addition to what I got hitting the button, but after 45 minutes all I could do was lay there moaning and listening to William's weak cry and trying to see something more than his feet and tummy and an occasionally waved hand. I could not understand why this cesarean was so much more painful than with The Littles, but I felt like my upper left abdomen was being pulled out of my body and held over fire. I finally told the nurse to call the doctor and get something else. "I want 2 mg of dilaudid and I want it IV!" She rushed out and came back not too much later, thank God above, to put me out of my misery. She got the orders and gave me the new medication. Oh. What. Relief! For the next little while I actually felt like I might live.


I then I finally got to hold him. Here was My Baby. The one I'd worried and fretted over so very much. Safe and sound. In my arms. The Other Mommy put him into my arms like the most fragile little piece of delicate glass that had ever been spun. I remember the most intimate of looks that passed between us as she handed him to me. It was a look that required no words. It was a look that said, "You got to hold him first and that is just so perfectly right, my friend, my sister, my Sometimes Mother!" It seems I didn't get to hold him for very long, not nearly long enough, before they were taking him to the NICU to be checked over and to have his first bath.


When I finally got wheeled to my room I was told that William would arrive in a while, that he was being seen by the neonatologist. I think by that point I was so out of my mind with pain that I was just grateful that he was getting the care he needed, that he was being looked after by a specialist. The Other Mommy stood by me, stroking my forehead and running her fingers through my hair trying to sooth me. Eventually the nurse brought another dose of the blessed pain medicine and I once again had some relief. Of all the ways I'd imagined how Will's birth story would unfold, I had always just known that I'd be beside my newborn, no matter how serious his condition might be, but I never once imagined that I'd be trying to hold myself in a fetal position to ward off such horrid torrents of pain.

What?

I'd gone to both the PHC visit for my regular check and NST, and I'd seen the endocrinologist today. I was starving by the time I got home, but I was also really tired and needed a nap. The Beloved had taken another out of town film crew job and I called him before settling my weary self down for a nap. We were engaging in chit chat, the small talk of what had made up our day here at home when my call waiting beeped. It was the PHC. They never called me after my visits. Never. I hung up with The Beloved to take the call. And then I called him right back. Dr someone-I'd-never-heard-of-before had been reviewing my labs and called the Beloved Dr S. They were both in agreement. I had gotten to 36 weeks successfully. I was maxed out on all the BP meds they were confident in giving me. They thought the baby had baked long enough. It was time to go to the hospital. Now. It was go time. And The Beloved was hours away. Crap!

What followed was a fury of phone calls and packing for The Littles and The Newest, Soon-to-be-in-my-arms, and myself. The baby shower dress I'd finally found wound up in a heap on the floor while I madly stuffed the remaining things I'd need into my borrowed suitcase. And I was going to miss my baby shower. I whipped out a fast email to everyone who had RSVP's telling them that we were off to the hospital again and not to come until they heard from me again. Crap!

Miss K, one of the gals from the ART who visit the Kidlets four days a week, helped me install the car seat and pack the van. Miss Susie was here to turn The Littles over to The Other Mommy. And off I went alone, having kissed and held The Littles one more time, promising that both Mommy and Daddy would be home soon and we'd be bringing Little Jack with us. I was really hoping the docs could get my BP under control again and that I'd stay pregnant. If Jack was born now, he'd be almost a month early. I guess I'll miss my 36 week ultra sound. Crap!

What's in a Name?

Let me just say, I am celebrating because I finally found the dress that I wore to both The Oldest's and Middle's baby showers! Now we're all set to go!

When I printed my pregnancy announcements I was extremely mindful of several things. First, everyone would be surprised, to say the least. Second, they would all be finding out almost halfway through my pregnancy. Third, the bigger shock would be that the baby would have Down syndrome. I tried to be encouraging. I tried to be upbeat. And I asked people for support rather than condolences. I included a line along the bottom to send name suggestions to my email account, and many did!

After months of deliberations, The Littles were still pulling for Jack. Secretly, so was I. Then not so secretly. The Beloved vetoed it. Among the slain were such noble names as Logan, Trent, Trevor, Holland, Cooper, Conrad, Colton, Zach, Max, Ashton, Liam, Addison, Christian, Benjamin, Joseph, Timothy, Jacob, Adam, Blake, Chase, Gray, Luke, Nicholas, Lucas, Theodore, Zachary, Jace, Jarrett, Caden, Erik. And all of my favorites, Mayhew Eggbert Wyborn Ethelwulf.

We've never been a family to choose names that could be shortened to other names. Especially with Our Littles. The Beloved specifically vetoed Elizabeth for The Girlie because it could be changed to Liz or Beth or changed entirely to Betty. Nope...no names here that can be shortened. If you know our family, you already know that our children's nicknames are those of our own design - well - The Beloved's own design. We've also chosen classic spellings. Why saddle a kid with a lifetime of having to spell their first names when they're already doomed to spelling both of their last names? Although, in today's twist-your-kids-name society, even the classic spellings are going to be oddities.

So this particular evening, The Beloved and I were once again engaging in The Great Name Debate. Having been through this process a few times already, I was prepared for a long verbal siege. He is too, too skilled at taking any name I suggest and before the name is even off my lips, he's already listing a stream, a veritable river, of the mean names school kids can change it to. Or add to it. Or shorten it to. In example I offer the name Richard. Every one knows what Richard gets changed to. And Peter? I won't go there. Anyway, I'd prepared for battle, girded my proverbial loins and taken up my proverbial armor. Kinda funny to use war words in relation to what we chose! Especially since the battle fizzled before it began.

The Beloved and I had discussed William Wallace before. You know, The Great Protector of Scotland, although the movie Braveheart took great artistic license portraying the facts. We also were great fans of King Leonidas of Sparta. Both names have great potential. Will, never Bill, (never!) Willie, Leo...so I brought both of those up again and suddenly we had a name. William Leonidas. No fighting, no negotiating, no building of fortresses and no taking up arms. We'd chosen a name without bloodshed. Another irony.

We sat back proud of ourselves. We'd done it. Without screaming or crying or gnashing of teeth. The Beloved had a secretive lopsided half smile on his face. And then he said something that made my heart swell even more than when he'd worried that William might never know the love of a companion. We'd already agreed that he'd need a namesake of strength. The Beloved said, "There's another way to look at this. He's going to have challenges from the first moment he's born. Neither of these two men backed down from their challenges."

The Middle was named for a strong character in a John Wayne flick. The Girlie was named for, well, she has a name I really liked. Noble, huh? And Little William is being named for honorable men who rose to meet the needs of their country. And unlike either of The Littles names, I can call William Will, or Willie, or Leo. Or Jack. We are breaking our own rules by using names that can be shortened, but Jack started it with his extra chromosomes!

If you don't know the history behind either William Wallace or King Leonidas, I invite you to read all about it. These were two tough dudes!

The Blahs, The Blues, The Doldrums

I have the blahs. I should be energetic but I am not. Ten people have already RSVP'd to my shower. It's a week away. I should be excited. But I am not. By this time with both of The Little's showers, there were twice that number who had RSVP'd. And this was a huge surprise after all, this pregnancy. Why weren't more people RSVP'd yet? Why weren't more people calling to say they would be there to celebrate our Newests arrival? Was it that people thought we were out of our minds for having another baby? Hello-ooo...I was supposed to be infertile. I have to admit that our immediate family dynamics have changed quite a bit with friends and families moving out of state and in some cases, partings of the way. Up until I'd sent the pregnancy announcements saying that Jack would have Down syndrome, I'd been in frequent communication with two of my oldest best friends. Since then however, I'd only received the occasional forwarded email, and not even that from my oldest childhood friend. Was that it? Were people too uncomfortable around me now? Was it Jack's Down syndrome? Even feeling this way about my upcoming shower, I still knew that was not the source of my ills. The shower would come, we would have a good time playing silly games, and the people who could come would be celebrating with us. Those who were out of town or working that day, and those who did not think a celebration was in order, well - they wouldn't be there and would miss the fun.

I have figured out what's wrong. I am not proud of it, but I know what it is. Jack is due in less than a month. We've known all along that the docs all planned on taking him early for both our sakes. So that leaves less than 3 weeks. At my last PHC visit, the doc was supposed to schedule my cesarean, but he put me off until next week. He said either the day before Thanksgiving or a few days after.

So here it is. I'm about to see just exactly what I've been worrying about since July 8th. We're about to find out just how severely our Youngest Son will be affected by this thing that's come into our lives called Down syndrome. And I am terrified. I am not ready. For all of my research, for all of my preparation, for all of the information I have shared with The Littles and The Beloved, I have no idea what to expect. And I am scared. Will we even get to hold him right away or will it become immediately clear at birth that he has a huge heart defect and must be swiftly swept into the NICU? Will he have the dreaded intestinal atresia and require surgery within days or even hours of birth? Will his heart suddenly stop beating before he can be born, as I've read happens to many of these little extra chromosomed babies? Except for dying in utero, all of those other worries can be fixed. They can all be taken care of eventually. What weighs heavy on me right now is more base and shallow. It has nothing to do with Jack's value as a baby, or of God's love for him. I am not proud of this, but will he look funny? Will he be ugly? Will his eyes slant so much that he doesn't look right? Will I be repulsed at the sight of my own baby? I've read about mothers who felt embarrassment and even shame when nurses came into their rooms and saw their babies. Would I be that mother? Would I be embarrassed or even ashamed of my own flesh and blood? My baby?

We already know that the Swine Flu scare has the hospital instituting a strict policy of only two visitors throughout the hospital stay...the same two visitors. No more. Am I more upset that my support network will be unable to visit, or relieved that I won't have to show my baby to anyone? What is wrong with me? Who thinks this way? That really was a fleeting thought, that part about being ashamed of my baby. I don't feel this way. But I am already missing having the happy, smiling, well wishing visitors laden with kisses and hugs and snuggles for the baby...but it's because I secretly fear in my heart that even if the hospital hadn't instituted the strict visiting policy, that no one would come anyway. Because he will have Down syndrome. He will be different. And that hurts deeply. I'd much rather feel like dirt about myself for thinking that I wouldn't love my baby than to see actual evidence that others will not show him love. I have big enough shoulders to weather the hurt. He will not. He will be just a tiny little baby deserving of love. It kills me to think that he won't have it. I know we will love him. We already do. But this birth, this emergence from the womb where I have kept him safe - this will be different. I won't be able to protect him from all of the world's hurts. I'd much rather delve deep into self loathing than to admit that Jack will be born into a less than welcoming world. That hurts deep. And I am ashamed that I will not always be able to protect him.

Coming Home Outfit

When I was pregnant with My Girlie, Bits and I spent an entire morning and afternoon trekking 90 miles away to the nearest Babies R Us. Now they are everywhere, but in 1999 they were few a far between. We shopped until we dropped and at the end of the day, she'd purchased The Girlie's coming home outfit. She'd gone to one of my ultrasounds with me and the good doctor wrote down the baby's gender on a piece of paper and handed it to her. It was forever sealed in an envelope after that. At least until we came home from the hopspittle with our sweet pink bundle. The slip of paper is in her baby book now. The outfit she chose was an adorable little white puckered fabric footed number with a matching jacket and bonnet. Neither girlie or boyish.

When we finally succeeded in getting pregnant with The Middle, poor Bit's health had tanked so Grandma Emmie chose his coming home outfit. It was a sweet little European style wrap in baby blue with doggy bones embroidered on it, with a matching beret, booties and a blanket.

With the shower announcements having gone out, Grandma Emmie asked me what I needed for Jack. Good golly, what didn't we need? I thought. So...I asked her to buy the coming home outfit. And today she brought it over! It is the softest blue plushy fabric I've ever touched. It's like a wrap around jumper and has a tiny little blue shirt to go underneath. It has snaps at the shoulders and a matching hat. It's footed. The bib of the outfit has a red ladybug buzzing around a sweet beige teddy bear and in the buzz stitching it says, "Together at last - - -" Perfect! Now he can be born because he has his coming home outfit.