The stomp your feet and pound your fist pity party

We had our first care conference today.  It's exactly what it sounds like….those who care for your baby while in the NICU, along with the parents, gather around a conference table and discuss his current condition and future goals.  It was so encouraging to sit with the neonatologist, nurse practitioner, charge nurse, social worker, and discharge nurse, all telling us how well Ethan is doing and what a sweet baby we have.  

But it was also incredibly overwhelming.  We started at his head and talked all the way down to his tip-toes.  I got to the eyes and got a lump in my throat.  Around the chin, I shifted in my chair a few hundred times.  By the time we'd reached his lungs I was fully engulfed in tears.  

When you have a baby in the NICU, it feels like you've been transported to another planet.  Unfortunately we haven't been working with NASA for years and were not prepared for this trip.  And when we arrived on this planet, we found out we had to learn a new language and way of life in about 30 seconds.  

We've learned all about bilirubin counts, nasal cannulas, gavage feedings, Kangaroo care, bradycardia, CPAP, and preterm risks.  I hold my baby in my arms and as wonderful as that moment of bonding is, I also continually watch the monitor to make sure that he continues to breathe and his oxygen levels don't drop.  

Oxygen saturation…purple number…85, 93, 95, 87, 88, 94…..good boy.

Heart rate…green number…..151, 152, 149, 149, 155….keep it up, Ethan.

I kept thinking to myself in that conference room today, "I didn't want to know this.  This is the kind of stuff you see on commercials with some weepy Sarah McLachlan song in the background.  This isn't supposed to be a conversation with Landon and Jenny Diveley!"

When they told us how full-term babies receive their immunities, proteins, and iron in the last six weeks before birth, it broke my heart to know that Ethan now has to receive those from an outside source.  When they shared the risks of RSV to a preterm baby after they go home, it made me want to put a bubble around our house.  When they shared how safe the blood is that they use for transfusions (if Ethan would need one which is not likely at this point), I wondered if this experience will prompt us to help others in the future by donating blood, time, and money to those organizations who need these so bad.

It was in that conference room that I wanted to stamp my foot and say, "Why?  Why do we have to hear this?  Why do we have to face some of these issues?!?!"  I just wanted to have a full-blown pity party.

Then we returned to Ethan's room and I watched as Landon was able to hold our baby for the first time.  His massive but gentle hands cradling Ethan so carefully as not to break him, but so strong to let him know he'll protect him.   

All was well with the world again.  Peace was restored.  Our own heart rates calmed.  The pity party was over.  And Ethan is worth every fear, every tear, every moment of heartache, because we know that there is a promise at the end of the rainbow.  One day, very soon, we'll bring that promise home.