If you've ever been to my house, you may have noticed that I have an Infant CPR chart posted on my refrigerator. For those of you who don't know, this is the story of why it will always be permanently attached to our fridge door.
It was Saturday night, May 15, 2004 and I had spent the day at my own baby shower (thrown by
Nancy &
Mandi). The end of a week of chasing 4th graders around my classroom, I was exhausted. It was also the NBA Playoffs (which I was not the least bit interested in watching), so when I went to bed a little early, around 9:30pm, Wade stayed up to watch the game. At 32 weeks pregnant I thought it was going to be just another restless night. I planned on getting out of bed at least 4 times to pee and change positions so that my arms or legs didn't go numb.
I woke up around 11:00pm feeling wet. "Oh no, my water broke!" I thought. "It's too early for this." I pulled the covers down and decided I shouldn't move so I called to Wade (who was still out in the living room watching the playoffs). He came to the door and turned on the light. I didn't dare move, even to sit up and look at myself. Wade was the first to see the sight and exclaimed "Uh, there is blood everywhere!" (or something like that)
We were immediately frantic and sprang into action. I called the doctor and she said to get to the hospital right away. We had never been to LDS Hospital before (we had a class scheduled for the following week) and had no idea how to get there. Wade called the hospital and got some hurried directions, which he jotted down quickly and then we rushed to the car. It was probably the longest drive of my life. I can only imagine that Wade was driving as quickly as he could without endangering our lives, but in my mind I just thought, "Drive faster, DRIVE FASTER!" I didn't talk much. He kept asking me how I felt. I just sat there in silence thinking about what could be happening, running through every possibility, "He's gone, we lost our baby, or we will soon, or he could be okay, but this isn't good, he'll probably be born tonight 6 weeks early, what does that mean? Will he be okay so early, if he even makes it?" I didn't feel any movement which freaked me out even more. When Wade asked again how I was, I snapped, "I don't know, just get me to the hospital!"
When we finally got to labor & delivery (which seemed like it took ages dropping me at the entrance, him parking and meeting me inside, waiting at the elevator- everything was painfully slow), they hooked me up to a NST monitor and took my vitals. The baby and I had already lost a lot of blood and both our heart rates had dropped. It took only a few minutes for the doctor to announce that they would be doing an emergency c-section to get the baby out immediately. For some reason, this was even more shocking than anything leading up to it. I couldn't believe that this was happening and it was all so fast. An hour ago, I never would have imagined that I'd be here, having a baby, let alone by emergency c-section.
After that, everything went so quickly. My doctor magically appeared as I was being prepped for surgery. The next minute Wade was by my side in the operating room and then, at 1:19 am on Sunday morning, after what seemed like an eternity, and no time at all, I heard Peter's cry. That was the best sound I had ever heard. Wade stayed by my side the whole time and even saw Peter as they were pulling him out. His first reaction was, "He doesn't look
that small." Those words were strangely comforting to me.
I didn't actually see Peter, they passed him directly to a nurse and through a window to the NICU. That's when time stopped. I laid on that table forever as they stitched me back together. I could only imagine what they were doing to my baby and of all the possible outcomes for him. I didn't even know what he looked like. I just wanted someone to say, "he's gonna be okay," or "don't worry, you'll get to see him soon." The doctors and nurses said nothing, which I took as a bad sign.
It must have been only 45 minutes (but way too long) when they wheeled me out and asked me if I wanted to see my baby. I don't know how they got my bed into the NICU, but I was happy to touch him and see his little legs and arms. When I was back in my recovery room, Wade would take photos and bring them to show me. He asked if I had any questions for the doctor that I wanted him to find out. I had so many questions, but the only one that really mattered, I was so afraid to ask. I finally choked it out, "Ask them if he's going to make it."
The doctor was confident that Peter would be fine. He would likely need to stay in the NICU for a while, but there was no doubt that he would live and that, other than being a preemie, he was a healthy baby. We learned that he was given some surfactant and put on a ventilator right after he was born, but that we was breathing on his own within an hour. I spent the next three days in the hospital, the nurses would take me down to see Peter whenever I wanted to and by the last day, I was able to walk myself (with the help of a wheel chair) down to the NICU to see him.
Going home without Peter was difficult, although I did sleep well at night without a new baby there to wake me up, and knowing that he was being cared for 24/7 by a staff of trained nurses and doctors didn't hurt either. I couldn't drive myself, so Wade would take me to the hospital 2 times a day. Often he'd take me in the morning and then come pick me up to eat/nap. Then I'd go back again in the afternoon/evening. They let me do everything for Peter when I was there. I would take his temperature, change diapers and clothing, give him a bath, and feed him a bottle or nurse him towards the end of this stay in the NICU. But most of the time, I would just sit in the rocking chair and hold him, hoping he'd open his eyes and see me. I spent hours just holding him while he slept, often fighting the urge to fall asleep myself. When I was there I wanted to go home and take a nap, but when I was home, I wanted to be back at the hospital with him.
Inside the NICU was another world. There were so many tiny babies, most of them a fraction of the size of Peter, and they were all hooked to lots of cords. Monitors beeped constantly reading his heart rate, breathing rate, and blood oxygen levels. Sometimes Pete would stop breathing for a few seconds (called apnea) and the monitor would beep to alarm nurses. He was fed through an IV at first and then slowing weaned to a tube feeding through his nose and finally to the bottle. Doctors were waiting for Peter to be able to feed from a bottle, and breath consistently without an apnea episode for an entire week before he could be sent home. Peter came home from the hospital on June 3, at a little over two weeks old. We spent the next week and a half at home with Peter, enjoying life just like any other parents of a newborn baby.
On June 11, Pete was only 3 1/2 weeks old, and had been home for about a week when Wade's sister Amy, her husband Bob, and their kids Colby, Katie, & Trevor came to visit us at our apartment. Amy brought some manicotti for us to cook when we needed it (I put it in the oven that day for dinner). We visited and the kids held their new cousin. Bob started reviewing
infant CPR with us. I didn't think much of it since we had watched a video on the subject before being discharged from the hospital and I never thought I'd need to use it anyway. Later that day we did use it.
It was late afternoon and I had just finished feeding Peter when Wade walked in from work. I was sitting on the couch lifting Peter up and Wade was standing in the doorway. He said hello and asked how my day was going. I said it was good and was looking at Peter. He started to turn a little blue. I tried to arouse him by rubbing his tummy/toes. He was turning purple and went limp. I thought he was dead. All I could say was, "He's turning blue. I don't think he's breathing." I don't think Wade had even set his backpack down it all happened so fast.
"Do you want me to call 911?" He said as I started to get hysterical.
"Yes!" I yelled as I tried to turn Pete over and hit his back (I was attempting the
baby Heimlich, which I later realized was not the right thing to do).
He was on the phone with a 911 dispatcher quickly and she was giving him instructions: "Lay him flat on the ground, tilt his head back slightly, check his airway, listen for breathing, give him 2 breaths and watch his chest rise, give him compressions, continue until breathing resumes, etc."
Meanwhile, I was pretty much freaking out. I didn't know what to do, so I ran outside to meet the emergency crew hoping to eliminate any confusion over where to find us. They were there so fast, I wasn't even outside yet and I heard the sirens coming (I later learned that the fire station was about 1/2 mile away from our apartment at the time). They were pulling into the parking lot when I got there and I ran back to my apartment with them following. As we ran up the stairs I could hear Peter let out a cry. That cry wins the award for the best sound I have ever heard in my life! Peter was breathing, his color was back, and he was alert and moving around.
There were now 6-8 large men with lots of gear standing in our little apartment and in the stairwell (since they didn't all fit inside). The guy in charge decided that Peter still looked questionable and that we should take a ride to Primary Children's Medical Center. After another eternal drive (in the ambulance this time- only about 1.5 miles from our apartment) to the hospital, they performed lots of tests and found nothing wrong with Peter. He was admitted and more tests were done for reflux and to see if he had any physical problems in his throat that would have caused him to stop breathing. Everything came up negative, but he continued to have bouts of apnea. He spent a total of 1 week in the hospital at Primary Children's Medical Center and did end up having a blood transfusion (actually 2- the first attempt was a bust when his heart rate started to drop- Another scary event!). He was sent home on June 21, 2004 with oxygen and an apnea monitor. We kept him on oxygen and the apnea monitor until Aug. 2, but he never had any problems after that. It took months for us to be comfortable going out with him and the sound of sirens still makes my heart flutter a little.
After it was all over we found out that I had a pretty severe
abruption which caused the bleeding the night that Peter was born. The placenta was torn from the uterus and we both lost a lot of blood. The doctor said that Peter had another 30 minutes and I could have lasted maybe another hour at the rate we were losing blood. Because he was born so early, Peter had a hard time breathing and adjusting to being out of the womb. He quickly grew to be an otherwise very healthy little boy! What an emotional adventure we had! Our experience with the twins was quite the opposite, but that's a story for another post.
May 15, 2004 at my baby shower (Peter was born that night/next morning).
This is the first time I saw Peter in the NICU at LDS Hospital.
This is one of the first photos of Peter taken while he was at LDS Hospital.
Peter and Mom in the NICU.
This photo was taken at Primary Children's Hospital after Peter stopped breathing.
This is Peter at 3 months old, finally oxygen/monitor free.
...Ben and Jack enjoyed a little "quiet time" in their favorite cupboard in the kitchen.
..Ben enjoyed a little "quiet time" inside his favorite cupboard in the kitchen.
...Pirate Pete sailed the 7 seas in the SS Minivan. He was overheard declaring, "I'm hitting the bad guys, cuz they're mean to Jesus," and speaking in the third person, "Pirate Pete needs a treat," "Pirate Pete is tired."
