Saturday June 30th, 2007

Really, the hospital room is nice, but it isn’t designed for me sleeping on the floor. The nurse has to come in during regular intervals to take vitals. My air mattress takes up a lot of the floor space. In a tie between me and the nurses, the nurses win. Anyway, if I was looking to sleep comfortably, I would have stayed at home. After a while I get tired of lying there. It’s time to get up and …oh right, nevermind. I just read a novel until she wakes up. As I mentioned before, we have different ways of coping with fear. One of her things is that she needs me. Nothing major, just little things. Fluff the pillow. Pass the cell phone. More or less blankets. Juice. Water. More incline or less (but never flat). Help her eat breakfast. I am more than willing to all of these things and more. Even though she is lying there, her job is the hardest. How can I tell her no because I’m reading an exciting chapter or looking up sports scores on the Internet?

The mama Ali hates hospital food (Does anyone really like it?). On top of that, turning on her side to eat it scares the dickens out of me. So I feed her a few bites of powdered eggs. I remember it was powdered eggs because I fed her powdered eggs for breakfast everyday. I think she ate the equivalent of 3 eggs over 11 days. However, she just spent 20 hours lying in bed so it isn’t as if she’s using a lot of calories. In fact, neither of us does much of anything before the doctor arrives. All of the previous tests show that the baby weighs a little over a pound. That’s not enough. However, the doctor does have some good news. He is trying to get us transferred to Daytona. Daytona is a level 2 NICU, which means they may make an attempt to save the baby if we wish. Ormond can’t even make the attempt. There will be no transfer today though. I think that ‘consult’ cost over 300 bucks for him to tell us that he can’t do anything. I do nothing for free.

Anyway, the overnight bag was good, but in my haze, I forgot that she was going to be in the hospital for a while. It was time to go home and get the computer, books, ipod, etc. Plus I had another very important stop to make. Once her parents arrived, it was time to go. I went back to my empty house and grabbed enough stuff to keep an adult entertained for several days. I also made sure to grab some of our pillows and blankets. The hospital had plenty of each, but they just weren’t quite right. When you have your own linens with your familiar feel and smell, you rest better. Unfortunately, I later found out that they would not let her use much of it, but she at least got to use her own blanket on top of the hospital blankets. Anyway after a quick cry I went to the party supply store. I had to get some balloons and flowers. The clerk thought it was weird that I was still crying a bit, but she got her money and I got my balloons. Next stop would be over at Betty’s. Betty’s is a restaurant. I had to get some food to go. However, I don’t particularly like Betty’s all that much, so most of the food was for mama Ali.

It sounds short, but running all of those errands get me back to the hospital around dinnertime. In fact, it was a little after dinner because her dry roast beef and soggy toast were mostly gone. It was then that she notified me that it was time to go. For reasons of modesty and decency, I won’t go into details except to explain the general problem we faced. Having a bedpan was out of the question because of the twisting and turning she would have to do to put it in place and remove it. It would have involved a lot of abdominal muscle use – which we were trying to avoid. Thus, she had to use the toilet. However, that means being upright to get to the toilet, and then pushing at least a little bit. We knew this time would come and a day and a half is a long time, but it has to happen. It was risky, but ultimately nothing happened. That was the scariest bowel movement of my life.

The mama Ali was starting to be less scared. She never told me so, but that night she had done something for the first time in 2 days. She turned on the TV. It wasn’t on for long, but it was an attempt to relax. We watched some sitcom or something. We played with the balloons. I gave her the flowers I had killed in her honor. I fed her cake from her favorite restaurant. Our fear (and her inability to move) created a bond that we hadn’t felt in months. It was the most romantic wedding anniversary we ever had.

Mama Ali Says:

I am amazed that it has been a year. We have been discussing this day/ this time a year ago, alot the last few weeks. Big Ali, I love you. As you say thanks to me, it is important for you to know how much I needed you then and how much you mean to me. You did everything I asked of you to make me feel better. You held my hand when the nurses were looking for that darn vein. You didn't pace, gosh- you did'nt pace, if you know Big Ali this was big. You did all you could and still we were all afraid that it was for nothing and look at him now. I am blessed. In the words of Hillary- "Shame on you" who don't believe.
Today we celebrated our first Family Day. A day for us to be together as we were last year and to be thankful. Did I say I am amazed it has been a year. Jordan is the best son anyone could ever ask for, and no matter how mothehood came, I am so glad to have him. You may remember my thank you post and it still holds true. Thank you Big Ali and Thank you to my parents, family, friends and thoes I don't even know, for what you did for my family One year ago today. You helped save my son's life/ you helped save my peace of mind. You did more than you will ever know. As the next week comes and we get ready to celebrate Jordan's 1st Birthday, I just want you all to know I feel good, and happy to have my family, any way it came. -I may add more post as you reflect and share your thought about last year or I may not, but know this- I love you
MA

Friday June 29th, 2007

“Big Ali, your wife is on the phone.” I have been chewed out by bosses before, worked at a company that was closed down, and even fired from some jobs, but those were the scariest words I ever heard at work. I was walking down the hallway at about 10 am and the receptionist was looking for me to let me know my wife was on the phone. I knew she had an appointment with the obstetrician that morning. When my wife wants to chat she leaves a message on my direct line. When she calls the receptionist it’s because she needs to speak and needs to speak now. With ice running through my veins I walk to the front desk. This isn’t happening again. Maybe she was calling because it was twins. Maybe she felt the baby kick for the first time. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world. After her first sentence on the phone, I knew it was the end of the world.

I let my boss know the particulars and run out of the office to get to Ormond hospital. I have to call several people. I let her parents know the situation. She hasn’t even let her job know she was going to the doctor. Now I have to let them know that she is out for the duration of the pregnancy – however long that is. I drive to the hospital in a haze, crying some but I have to get there. I get to the admission area and she is sitting on a chair. I ask her to relate the story again. I ask for the doctor’s exact words hoping there’s something she’s overreacting to. In my fear it probably comes across as an interrogation. Did the doctor say you should come to the hospital or that you must? Was he reading off of a chart the results of a test, and if so did he get the charts mixed up? Did he mean admitted to the hospital or just run some tests? Every answer is the worst. My wife is sitting there as scared as I am. It would be her last time sitting for 11 days.

After finally getting the hospital room, she gets in bed and we wait. We don’t know what’s happening or why it’s happening to us, but all that matters is that she is going to lose the baby. She ate right (for a pregnant woman with cravings), no drugs, no drinking, some exercise, we even took vitamins. I even got her a step stool so she can get into bed easier. She switched to soy milk because the dairy gave her gas once and she didn’t want to hurt the baby. We’re not mad, just scared. Afraid of what will happen, afraid of what we did wrong, afraid of the past. When her mother arrives, we are still afraid. When her doctor arrives, we finally learn why.

Imagine the womb as a giant water balloon. Now pinch your fingers over the nozzle to keep the water in the balloon. For most of us that isn’t a problem. Now imagine you have the hands of an 80 year old with arthritis. You won’t be able to keep the water in there for long. Her cervix is starting to open. There are no exercises to strengthen the cervix. No stretches. No vitamins. No therapy. Usually it works. This time it doesn’t. The Internet will tell you that there is a very easy cure for it. Just stitch it closed. A procedure done in the doctors office with local anesthetic that usually takes less time than a circumcision. What the Internet won’t tell you is that it must be done in the 1st trimester. You can’t stitch it closed when it is already 4 cm open. Most women with the problem find out the way that we are finding out.

In the past whenever I visit a doctor, they are always optimists. Nothing is ever seriously wrong. If you hurt, it’s an infection to be cured with antibiotics. Joint sprain? Take a couple of days off and you’ll be fine. Our doctor tells me in the hallway out of earshot that my wife won’t be pregnant Monday morning. It’s now Friday afternoon. I explain that it’s a good thing we are in a hospital because I have heard that some NICUs can save extremely premature babies. I think this doctor is starting to take joy in giving me bad news. It turns out that there are 3 different levels of NICU. Level 3 isn’t even a NICU so much as a nursery. They offer very moderate support to babies. Level 2 NICUs can take babies as young as 27 weeks or so, but rarely have the equipment for any earlier. We need a level 1 NICU. That’s a hospital that takes the sickest of the sick and make an attempt to save them. I would later find out that they are not as successful as I would like when it comes to preemies.

I ask the doctor is there anything that can be done. He says that right now the baby is growing and putting pressure on the cervix. The growing can’t and shouldn’t be stopped, but if they can keep the legs elevated above the rest of the body some of the pressure will be taken off of the cervix. Not only will my wife literally not be allowed to get out of bed for the rest of the pregnancy, but it will be spent lying at an incline with her head at the bottom looking up at her feet. Oh, and by the way, it will probably be ultimately futile. Have a nice weekend.

By this time she is well situated in the bed with her parents there. I lie and say that I am running down to the cafeteria and will be back in 30 minutes. In truth, I am going to cry in private. I find an unused smokers bench at the side of the hospital and let loose. I cry as I haven’t cried in at least 10 years. At that time and place, I began mourning the son I would never know. I mourn the diapers that wouldn’t be changed. I mourn the bike that wouldn’t be ridden. I mourn … wait a minute, is this person really coming to take a smoke! I am having a friggin breakdown here and being in front of a hospital a reasonable person can assume that it’s for a bad reason. I know that smokers need to smoke, but if you are a hospital patient, maybe you can take a day off. Even if you can’t, I am clearly in the mood to be left alone. Go somewhere else! I was in no mood to fight, but I really wished ill towards this woman.

I wasn’t ashamed to cry in front of my wife. I had done it previously and would do it many more times during the coming summer. I think it takes more strength to be vulnerable than to hide your feelings with your spouse. I was ashamed because of why I was crying. My wife was afraid – scared to death. I wasn’t scared because I knew what was going to happen. I knew that she was going to try and hold on as long as possible, and that I wanted her to try, but I just knew she would fail. It wasn’t her fault, but no one who was 4cm dilated in the 21st week of pregnancy could deliver a viable baby. She was going to attempt the impossible and there was no way that she would ever find out that I didn’t believe in her. She won’t know that I felt that way until she reads these words.

I make my way back upstairs to be the husband. My wife is at her most vulnerable and I can’t take any more time for myself. She needs me more than she has ever needed me and if I have to skip lunch so be it. She is talking with her mother and her father has arrived by now. The best way to be there for my wife right now is to leave. Our life is getting ready to change in ways that we aren’t in anyway prepared for. First up, I have to go home.

We have two little dogs at home. I don’t know what the immediate future holds for me, but it doesn’t hold a lot of time at home to tend to my dogs. I have to pack them and their stuff up. They won’t be home again for two weeks. My wife left work for a short appointment and never expected to stay overnight. Now, I have to pack the overnight hospital bag. Had someone told me a day earlier that it was time to pack an overnight bag at the end of 21 weeks, I would have said it was too soon. Today it was too late. I was supposed to have a list of things to read from. It was supposed to be the two of us spending a Sunday afternoon joking about underwear and maternity pants. It was supposed to have some sort of clothes for a baby. I do my best to grab a mix of maternity and not maternity clothes and toiletries. I also pack a knapsack for myself and I’m out of the house in 30 minutes.

When I get to my parents house I unload the dogs. My parents like my dogs, but they are little dogs who stand less than 12 inches at the shoulder. They easily and willingly get lost in their house at times. However, there is no doubt that they will watch the dogs now. The hard part was telling my father why I was bringing the dogs over. My father has always been willing to do for me. Whenever I needed help, he was there. As a teenager he once offered to spend 50 bucks on a bowling ball that I didn’t ask for because all of my friends had one. I know that when I was an adolescent he made sure that I never wanted for anything even when it was hard for him to provide. He has always been a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. This was a seminal moment in my life and he could do nothing. Reassurance? Fruitless. Money? Irrelevant. Ride to and from the hospital? I didn’t intend on leaving for some time. Talking? I clearly didn’t want to. I was going to endure one of the toughest periods of my life and he couldn’t do anything . He said a few words that I don’t remember and I was on my way back to the hospital.

Soon we were in the room alone just the two of us (or did it count as three of us?). My in laws were gone, it was after dark and we would have no more visitors that day. When something like this happens, you are in an unusual position. You have a million things you want to say, and you have nothing to say. Of course is the standard reassurances. Also, the professions of love. What else? We’ve been married long enough to know what we are feeling and how we deal with it. We’re both afraid, and I’m usually a pacer. However, that would just remind her she can’t get up. You can only ask the nurses for so many pitchers of water and blankets before you’re good to go. I eventually find the snack room where they have free juice and coffee for the dads. I even unpack the clothes and put them in the drawer. We eventually just hold hands until she drifts off to sleep

Tour Pics - Part 2

This is Aunt Lois - Uncle James' wife. She's from the old school that doesn't want to hold a baby because you could give him germs, but Jordan eventually won her over.

This is the borther of Pop Pop and his wife. Jordan loved their piano and their dogs.

I don't usually wear the wife beater out in public, but I had traveled a very long distance that day without a car. When I have to walk over 3 miles in 90 degree heat, I don't complain, but I do sweat.

The mama Ali's godmother. She let us stay in her hourse for the week and we certainly appreciate it. She is sitting with her daughter and granddaughter.

We took this picture from Greektown. Don't call me racist - the signs said welcome to greek town. According to what we saw in greek town all greek people do is eat at $50 a dinner restaurants everyday because there was no other businesses on the main street.

The little boy in the picture was Josh. Josh is 4 years old and thought the idea of making a baby laugh was the best idea in history. Now, Jordan wants a big brother for Xmas.

Tour Pics - Part 1

Let me first say that there will be other pics from the trip, but it's late and I'm tired.

Say Cheese!

Not a picture from the trip, but when he can sit up like this, then it's time to stop using this swing. We won't use this swing again until we have another baby (approx. 2015)

This is a special pic. Jordan got to meet uncle James, the man who married us. James was happy, Jordan was hungry.

The mama Ali and her godsister got into some sort of diaper changing race. Jordan is the baby with the penis.

We took Jordan downtown to show him the sights and paid $30 for parking and $4.50 per gallon of gas for the priviledge of taking a picture of him sleeping. 10 years from now when he asks to visit Chicago, I'll show him this picture and tell him that he has already been there.

Just a little jam session with Pop pop. He actually enjoyed the trip overall, but he is becoming a big boy. I know everyone wants to know how he handled flying. He couldn't have done better. We fed him a bottle during the first takeoff so his ears wouldn't pop and he spent half the flight sleeping. On the way back, we tried giving him a pacifier during the descent for the same reason and he wasn't having it. He would not keep it in because he kept trying to play with the nice man sitting in the seat next to me. He giggled most of the time down. Which brings me to another thing.

He has started cheesing for strangers a whole lot lately. If you bring a 7 month old out in public, people want to start smiling and playing with him. If he is in a playful mood, he loves that. He loves kids. He loves other peoples grandparents. He loves his own grandparents. He loves men. He loves women. If you like him, then he likes you - as long as he's in the mood. I'm not really complaining (relatives give you more toys for a happy baby), but sometimes I think strangers should have to work to make him smile. He gives it up too easy.

Tour Update

Well, as expected, Jordan has been a big hit in Chicago. Or course it mostly has to do with the baby. He rarely fusses so people are pleasantly surprised to meet him. Some babies tend to fuss when strangers hold them. Jordan will glance at the person holding him and then try to find something interesting to look at. Uncle George may be nice, but he isn't as interesting as his ceiling fan. Anyway, his flight up here was as expected. We fed him a bottle during take off, he wanted to play during the first half of the flight, fell asleep over Tennessee and didn't wake up until the engines were shut off. We expected a crowd of screaming ladies waiting for us at the airport. Instead we only got a diaper that I would describe as "impressive". We head back to FL tomorrow and there will be pics and videos and details within a few days.

Going out for a 'Party'

This video is actually pretty abridged. It actually went on for a good 20 minutes. And I mean a GOOD 20 minutes. Seeing the way he enjoys spalshing his baths we shouldn't have been surprised how much he enjoyed this. I should have brought his rubber ducky.

The mama Ali had a wake up call last weekend. We went over to her father's house and Pop Pop asked how his baby was doing. She actually answered as if he was asking about her. No one (other than me) has asked how she was doing in months, and no one is going to ask until she's pregnant again (years from now). However, it did show how popular the baby is. Everytime we take him out he is an absolute 'chick magnet'. It's even more so now that he smiles back at people. We decided there is only one way to handle this. Since jordan is treated like a rock star, we are taking him out on tour.

I am pleased to announce the "Party Pooper'' tour of 2008! This weekend we are going to Chicago to visit his mother's side of the family. In mid August we are going to New York to visit my side of the family. In October we are going to Atlanta to visit friends, and at Xmas we are going to Baltimore for the holidays. Get your tickets now! For the low cost of a diaper change you get to hold the baby for 15 minutes. For burping the baby you get your shirt personally 'signed' by Jordan. For agreeing to babysit the baby for 2 hours, you get to play with the baby for two hours! You can't beat these prices! I must warn the groupies that he isn' so much interested in your breasts as much as what is in your breasts.

Big Kid Time

Jordan is finally done with the apnea monitor! Yesterday was the last day for the monitor after seven and a half months. I think in the last 2 months it has only gone off for loose leads. Even before that it was almost entirely false alarms. Either way, we are done with it now. We are finally done with all of his NICU equipment!

Jordan is starting to become a big boy, so we gave him something that big boys have. Jordan now has an 8pm bedtime. It has been very easy. He really doesn’t nap much during the day if you keep him busy so he is always tired at night. At night we just make sure he is fed and changed, give him a pacifier, and read him a story. After we put him in the crib he’s asleep in 5 minutes. I am going to miss this in 12 months when he’s a toddler.

Finally, we learned what the grandparents want to be called. This is weird for me. My parents are now grandparents with grandparents nicknames. Parents aren’t supposed to be grandparents. I’m 30 years old and my grandma is still Nana. Anyway, my parents are now NA-mah, and Granddad. My in-laws are MEE-mah and Pop Pop. They’ll always be ‘mom’ and ‘creepy old dude’ to me.

Fancy Footwork

I wonder if this camera tastes like the last one???

I know this blog is about Jordan, but furry dogs sleeping on their backs are automatically funny.

Now I am free to smoke next to the baby's crib. One of the true joys of parenting.

I just realized that when he takes his first steps, they'll be walking away from me.

He just realized that too. About another 6 months till freedom!

This one is really special to me. When we met with the therapists last month, they said that because Jordan was born so early he didn't spend as much time curled up in the womb as he should. Normally this leads to weaker abdominals. That means the babies won't be as willing or able to play with their feet. That means a delay in walking of another month or two. I don't know if he is at the normal time for feet play, but the therapist didn't bother to tell Jordan what he can't do.

Happy Mother's Day!

The mother's in Jordan's life. He is being held by my mother, my mother in law is in the pink shirt, and a very special mother is standing behind them.

My father in law is in the striped shirt, and that other guy is dressed like a tourist.

Yum! That camera looks tasty.

He ate too much camera.

Doctor No More

Went to see the pulmonolgist yesterday. Naturally, my boy kicked butt! The doctor said that once the baby is over the cold we can get rid of all of the oxygen in the house. I think since we already paid for the oxygen (OK, the insurance paid for it), that I might just close all of the doors to the bedroom and open up the valve all the way. We can make our own oxygen tent for one night. Sleep like we were Michael Jackson. Before you leave a comment calling me crazy, ask yourself if you have ever wondered what it would be like to live in an oxygen tent with your pet monkey. You’re just jealous because I have the opportunity – or at least I will once I get a pet monkey.

The doctor also said that two weeks after we lose (or use) the oxygen, we can get rid of the damn monitor. We celebrated last night by doing something we always wanted to do, but we never could. We let the baby sleep in a onesie with a zipper. In the past we always had to keep him hooked up to the monitor with the leads. We couldn’t have him wear a zipper onesie because the wires are not long enough to come out of the neck and he’d just pull them loose anyway. Last night, no leads so we got him to wear a zipper. He didn’t care, but we loved it.

The doctor also gave us more good news. We don’t have to see him again for four months! Yesterday was the first time I did that long drive to Jax in several months and I don’t know how we could do it everyday last summer. Anyway, we have to see the eye doctor at the end of this month and then we don’t have to drive to Jax to see a doctor until football season!

Guest Post

I got tired of doing all ofthe posts for this blog, so Jordan asked if he could take over for a day. Here's Jordan:


I Can't Imagine Why Anybody Would Want To Stop Crying

Life has so many wonderful experiences to offer. Like sleep. Or ingestion and evacuation. But I find life offers few opportunities more rewarding than screaming like a maniac until your voice cracks with the strain, so that the entire universe can share in your distress. That's what life is all about, right? The sheer exhilarating thrill of nonstop crying at the top of your lungs. It's such an important part of why we are here—why would anybody ever want to do anything else?
Don't get me wrong—I like squirming, drooling, and sporadically attempting to focus on colors and shapes as much as the next guy. But of all the various activities one can choose to pursue in life, crying is tops as far as I'm concerned. In my opinion, I find nothing is more fulfilling than a good steady holler. It takes no experience to begin, and within moments, all one's needs are instantly met! It's my favorite part of the day.
Heck, I'm crying right now!
I suppose some people might enjoy wasting their days with sleep or gentle cooing, but not me. No, sir. Not when there's all that fantastically loud crying to do. In fact, I love crying so much, sometimes I wish I could be awake 24 hours a day, just to hear the crying I miss out on hearing when I am asleep. I mean, I assume I cry in my sleep, too. Whoa. There's a strange thought: What if I stop crying for a moment when I'm asleep? That would be tragic.
Yes, there's nothing like a good, healthy, air-raid-siren-style bellow to renew one's red-faced passion for living. What you want, I've found, is to pitch your voice at about the decibel level of your standard jet engine and then hold it as long as possible before taking in air. That's the sweet spot right there. That's the ideal volume for a good cry—the kind of crying that isn't so much melancholy or sorrowful as it is a full-throttle roar of earsplitting shrillness.
It's so easy. Getting started can be as simple as being startled by your own hand.
In my opinion, anyone who isn't screaming his lungs out is just letting life pass him by. You'd think, after seeing how happy crying makes me, people would follow my example. But all around me there are tall, shadowy figures who seem to actively avoid the most pleasurable part of existence. Everywhere I look I see them: standing behind my stroller as they walk around town, or leaning in over me in my crib and making faces. Whole loads of people, not crying. Don't they realize what they're missing?
Look, I'm not a purist. I understand there are times when it might be perfectly acceptable to stop crying. Like when something is placed in your mouth for you to suck on. Or when somebody jiggles you for 40 seconds. Both are perfectly understandable and justifiable reasons to stop crying momentarily. But to be completely silent for more than, say, a minute? That's just crazy.
Take my parents, for example. If it wasn't for my tireless efforts, they'd sleep through the night! Can you believe it? I don't think it's because they're too old—I suppose I don't know how old they are exactly, but I can't imagine it's any more than, say, one. They've still got plenty of life in them. Yet they hardly ever cry, and when they do, it's usually softly, in the middle of the night, and exhausted-sounding. What happened to their lust for life? Don't they realize that every moment they waste sleeping, fiddling with the car seat, or holding picture books in front of my face is precious time they could be screaming their heads off?
How can I get them to embrace life and really make the most of wailing like a mythical banshee for hours on end?
I just don't understand these people—and not only because I have yet to grasp the concept of others as separate selves outside of me. Don't they know that all they'd have to do is take a good deep breath, let her rip, and the air would be filled with glorious noise? They can't be having a good time just sitting there, grinning slightly, and communicating through facial expressions and this bizarre series of coded grunts I have yet to decipher.
What do they spend their time doing? Comprehending spatial relations? I'd die of boredom in a minute. They must've been young once. Surely they can still remember the good times they had, splitting the very air with sonic knives of nigh-unendurable intensity. I would hate to think that someday I might be so jaded and cynical as to turn my back on wriggling and panting for breath, using every ounce of my being to emit a general, undifferentiated distress signal to all within earshot.
Spending entire days without crying? Why, it goes against the very thing that makes us human.
God, I hope I never become like them.

If it isn't one thing, it's something else

The vomiting has become much worse. When it’s time to eat he takes about 7 or 8 ounces. We try feeding less, but he raises a ruckus. He is old enough to recognize his bottle, and old enough to recognize that hollering will get him what he wants. When we feed him 8 ounces, if we don’t lay him down for about an hour then he’ll give the food back. He doesn’t just spit up either. I’m talking about changing his bib, changing his clothes, and changing my clothes. Then he’s hungry again. Of course we will ask the doctor about this, but we don’t expect any answers.

Speaking of doctors, we heard from the pulmonolgist yesterday. After 10 months and many many thousands of dollars of oxygen, and thousands more in equipment, we can take Jordan off of the oxygen full time….just as soon as he recovers from the cold I gave him. In my defense I didn’t give it to him, he took it. When you carry him he tends to taste you. If he can’t taste you, he’ll touch you and then taste his hand. When you think about it, it’s amazing that he hasn’t gotten sick before now. Considering everything he’s been through in the past, his mother is handling it well. Neither of us is freaking out over this, but he doesn’t seem to mind having a runny nose, it just gives him something new to taste. I do have a hunch that the mama Ali won’t admit he’s over this cold for another 10 months.

Photo Update

We went to the park. Do you think he enjoyed it?

I took a quick business trip to San Francisco. I got him a souvenir from Alcatraz.

This is one of my friends from work. He arrived here from China in December. His english name is Andy (I don't know his Chinese name). He has never seen a black infant in person other than Jordan. Jordan has never seen a Chinese person before he met Andy. Andy was pretty happy to meet Jordan and Jordan wanted to taste Andy's shirt.

Jordan still doesn't know what to make of the dogs. He knows that dogs aren't people, but he still doesn't understand the concept of dogs.

Running Low on Oxygen

My boy has made me so proud, but I’ll get to that later. Last Thursday he had another development review with a physical therapist to evaluate him as a 5 month old. He did very well. He can’t sit on his own yet, but he sits well for his age. He puts everything he can into his mouth – usually with two hands. He dealt well with the therapist and didn’t fuss. He has good muscle tone too. Due to the prematurity, they will probably still monitor his development, but he is doing well for his adjusted age.

Jordan did something yesterday that he has never done before. He willingly drank water! Usually we give him a bottle of water and he sucks too hard. Imagine you suck on a straw hard enough to get a milkshake and all you get is a mouth full of water. When that happened in the past he choked a little. However, yesterday he did it right and was able to tolerate the water. He has also started to try and put in his own pacifier. There is nothing cuter than handing him his pacifier and watch what he does with it. He can’t get it in his mouth oriented properly, but he tries so hard. I’ll post a video of it really soon.

Anyway, we need to do a little review. Your blood can hold a certain amount of oxygen. For most of us we have about 95% or more of the maximum amount. Jordan was born so early that his lungs were damaged and when he came home from the hospital he couldn’t stay that high unless we gave him extra oxygen. On Thursday night we let him sleep for the first time (intentionally) without oxygen and he never got below 95% as far as we could see. The results of this test should be getting to the doctor this week. If we are lucky, the doctor will say we no longer need to use any oxygen at all! Worst case scenario, we will have to wait until the May 7th appointment to be released from the gas. We are almost done with the oxygen, but we are still using it at night now until we get clearance from the doctor. Then pretty soon after that we can get rid of the damn monitor. I couldn’t be prouder of how far he has come.

Cow Duty

Jordan is now out of the house. He will be back soon, but he has graduated to the next stage. Before, because he was hooked up to the oxygen tank, he stayed at home while the grandparents came over to watch him. Now, he doesn’t need the oxygen during the day so he can go to their house. Both sets of grandparents have been so helpful watching him for the last 5 ½ months – we don’t know what we would have done without them. They will probably watch Jordan for at least the rest of this year if we asked. After that he will be a toddler and no one can enjoy their retirement chasing after a toddler for 50 hours a week.

My boy has gotten into the habit of cow duty. Cows will eat the grass and store it in the stomach until later when they can chew their cud. Jordan will drink the milk and decide that it was so tasty he will bring it up again. Of course he has a little mouth so it just ends up on his legs, and his clothes, and our clothes, and sometimes the couch. Just about everything except the bibs. After he’s done, he then likes to complain that he is hungry. You know you are a parent when you get used to the smell of fermenting milk combined with bile.

Rump Kicker

The Easter outfit. He's got bunnies on his feet and funnies on his face.

Now he just has lunch on his face. This is the result when he tries to help with the solid foods.

I didn't get a picture on my camera, but Aunt Traci came to visit this weekend. She hasn't seen him since Xmas and had a couple of days off. I think he might actually be double the weight. He is up to 16 pounds now. I know a lot of people hae asked, and yes - Jordan is over his fever. We never really found out what caused it, but we are thinking it has something to do with teething. I knew something was wrong because he had a fever, but I didn't realize that he was acting differently until he got back to normal. He stopped laughing for a couple of days and had no interest in playing with toys. I didn't notice that until he started laughing and playing again. He kicked that fever's butt!

Wednesday was a visit to the pulmonologist. Naturally my boy kicked butt! He is now supposed to be on the oxygen only at night. In practice, he is only on the oxygen for about 2 or 3 hours. We put the cannula in at bedtime and he usually has it out by midnight. We tried taping the cannula to his face, but he still pulls it off - and that really irritates his face. The next step is to schedule a sleep study. That will be in a few weeks. We will hook him up to a machine that measures the amount of O2 in his blood while he sleeps. If he desats (remember that?) then he fails the test. If he doesn't desat then they will start making plans to get the 50 gallon container of rocket fuel out of my bedroom.

Thursday was the day for developmental assessment. When you are a premature as Jordan, it's a good idea to have professionals check the development. He is 4 and a half months since his due date so they checked his development for a 4 month old. He kicked butt! He was not perfect, but he did well. He stands well, always deals with other people great, and is a representation of physical perfection. Well, not perfection, but he's pretty good. There are a few things that we will need to work on. He is close to sitting up, but not there yet and we have excerises for that. He stands well for his age, but he doesn't stand as straight as he should. He can turn to his side, but not all the way from front to back. Overall his ratings were good, but they did recommend him for some follow up visits. The main thing is that he needsto be followed for some time still because of the prematurity, but the therapists thought he was doing really well.

Nursing Trouble

Last night after work, Jordan was a little hot. He was over 99 degrees and not wearing a lot of clothes. He wasn’t complaining or anything, but he just kept getting hotter. By 10pm he was 102 degrees. He started hollering in a way he rarely does. He usually cries only when he’s hungry or really wet, but this time he was inconsolable. He was crying so hard that he vomited the meal from 2 hours earlier, and immediately fell asleep.

Anyway, the 102 degrees alone was enough to call the doctor, and he told us to go to the emergency room. We left home at 10:30 pm. When Jordan was first examined by the nurse it was really weird. He asked us some of the medical history (where to begin?), and not being a NICU nurse he didn’t understand terms like BPD, CLD, or PDA. It made me feel really smart to explain this stuff to a trained medical professional. Then he gave Jordan some Tylenol and a pill. He also took Jordan’s temperature. There’s only one way to give a 16 pound baby a pill – they don’t swallow too well. Also, in the NICU they took the temperature by sticking the probe in the armpit. As I said, this guy wasn’t a NICU nurse. Let’s just say that he got the pill first and then had a body temp of 103.

When you come into the ER with a baby on oxygen and apnea monitor, and a 103 degree fever, you don’t have to wait too long to see a doctor – we saw ours at midnight. He was already coming down from the fever, but he was very tired and couldn’t sleep with all of these strangers and strange things.

The doctor prescribed some medicine and would have let us go home – except Jordan is a special little boy. We had to stay for chest X-rays and blood work. He didn’t like the chest x-ray. For the blood work, the nurse said that she was going to insert an IV just in case the blood work came back and he needed fluids or other stuff. Jordan has not had an IV in many months. In fact, Jordan had an IV put in for his birthday and had one in him somewhere for almost 3 months. I convinced myself then that because he never knew life without an IV or needles (or pain), that was why he never cried. Just like he loves baby food because he’s never tasted fried chicken. Anyway, that was then. Last night I held his left hand while the nurse placed an IV in his right. I held his head facing toward me so he wouldn’t see the needle. When the needle went in, he looked me in the eyes and my heart broke. I know that that is part of being a parent, but I felt almost as if I betrayed him. Next time he gets an IV he’s going to have to look at the nurse – they are used to it. The worst part of it was that this wasn’t a NICU nurse, so she couldn’t really find such a small vein and she never placed the IV, she just got a blood sample.

The results finally came back and everything was normal. The baby was 16 pounds 2 ounces (7314 grams to those who are still counting) and exhausted. His body temp was down to 99 degrees. The mama Ali and I bickered about something unimportant on the way out of the hospital, but that was just blowing off steam when you have your baby in the ER after 2am. We got home at 2:30. The baby had already forgotten the IV and his parents quickly fell asleep.

Special Treat

Sitting up

And Stepping out.

First of all, this is a special treat. It took over 45 minutes to download these videos so don't expect 2 in 1 post a lot. I included these two videos because they were so cute. Especially the 2nd one. He stands up all the time now - as long as we hold him. He even has started to play with his toys. It's still cute because he only plays with what we give him and stands up only when we hold him. We only have a couple of months left for all of that.

Play and Hate

The baby has started to throw up more. He will vomit at least daily and more than once if we aren’t careful. We can’t play with him too much for about an hour after eating and putting him on the shoulder is pretty much a bad idea when he’s awake. Due to the drooling, he is always wearing a bib anyway, but between the drool and vomit he goes through at least 6 or 7 bibs per day. He only goes through 4 or 5 bottles. Things would probably be worse if he wasn’t sleeping through the night. The good news is that he is sleeping through the night almost all the time. The main thing that wakes him up overnight is pretty much him. He hates wearing the cannula, and leaving it taped on irritates the skin, so he spends all of his time trying to pull it off. At night he will shake his head back and forth until it comes off. Sometimes it will move down until it’s around his neck. Other times it will move up until it’s around his eyes. That’s when he has to call the parents.

Jordan and I have started playing together. It is so cool that I can do something and have him react. Before, I couldn’t get him to do anything, but now. Our favorite game is play and hate. I sit Jordan on my lap facing me. Then I start making funny noises and laughing. He thinks that is pretty fun so he laughs too. Then I laugh. Then he laughs. We keep going back and forth for a few minutes until he’s nice and happy. Then I hand him to his mother. He is still looking at me because of all the interaction. That means he either still focuses on me and laughing while sitting on her lap, or he starts looking at her and stops laughing. She hates that.

Finally, I learned something about babies this past week. I thought that the next developmental stages for him would be starting to reach for his toys. Babies are supposed to reach for things that they want and we’ve been looking forward to that. No one told me that before babies can reach, they first must swing. I was trying to get him to grab my nose this past weekend. He swung his arm and punched me. Hard! He thought it was funny.