We've finally reached a place where I am able to get back on here and let my family and friends in on what's been going on. The majority of you know, but maybe not all the details and for those of you who don't know, we've had a son, Logan James, and he had some problems.
For me, the Momma, the pregnancy went great in comparison to when I was pregnant with Alana. The times I was sick were minimal compared to the amount of time I spent ill during the first pregnancy. The scares didn't come until the birth.
On February 10, 2014, I was numbed from the neck down in preparation for my c-section; with these doctor's helping as much as they could to minimize my claustrophobia issues. halfway through the procedure the anaesthesiologist stood up and proceeded to push as hard as he could (without breaking bones) on my ribcage. this was extremely uncomfortable to say the very least. It wasn't too long after that, that I heard the cries of my newly born son. They immediately laid him on my chest, skin on skin. What a beautiful moment in time for me. He looked perfect, but that's when I noticed the labored breathing. Assuming it was the paranoia, I didn't mention it...turns out, I didn't need to. I wasn't paranoid, the nurses saw it too. Logan James was diagnosed shortly there after with under developed lungs and wet lungs. What was supposed to be a beautiful time of bonding for Chris and I, turned into fear and anxiety.
In comparision, our situation was not, nor is it, as severe as some parents. However; with that being said, this was the scariest thing we have been through to date. My son was in NICU and I was literally as far away from him on the maternity floor as I could be in the hospital room recovering. For those mother's out there, I don't have to tell you, it's hard to rest and heal up when you KNOW that there is something seriously wrong with your child. I came out of surgery by 9 am, and I was forcing myself out of bed to my wheelchair by that late afternoon. This is not to brag; this is to show determination. Nothing was going to keep me from my son.
The first time I truly held him was HOURS AFTER my surgery. What a sight I came into. I held it together as best I could for my husband and my newborn son. Once I was back in my room, I cried, unlike any tears I've shed before. The pain my heart was experiencing is unlike anything I can explain. You go 10 months having a relatively easy pregnancy, so you aren't anxious. This was a surprise even to my OB surgeon and it shook my world. Again, I know mothers who have been through worse, and to those, my heart still breaks for you. My beautiful baby was hard to see...there were too many wires, tubes, IV's, and his face was wrapped in a CPAP mask.
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| The first time I touched my son since the surgery |
How do you tell a new (again) mother that she cannot feed her own child? That's what I was told; it's not safe right now for you to feed your son, he could choke on it and die. That little tube you see in his mouth was not for food...they were pulling up and out all the yucky mucus and gunk from his lungs. I was helpless to help; all I could do was watch my son fight.
Fight is what he did.
48 hours later, they removed the CPAP machine and placed him on oxygen through a cannula. I still couldn't feed him; I still couldn't help him. He was being "fed" dextrose. Terrible stuff for the body but at the same time it help to keep my son alive. At 72 hours living this is what he looked like:
By this time I was able to hold him whenever I was in the NICU. I still couldn't hold him as long as I wanted as I continuously found myself falling asleep once I relaxed with him. It was also around 72 hours alive that they started introducing breast milk. I still wasn't allowed to feed him, but instead he was fed through a medicine dropper connected to a feeding line.
Day 3 and the doctors were telling me: he should be off the oxygen by this evening. He's strong and he's doing great!" Day 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 came and went and he remained on the oxygen. If news couldn't get worse, they also ran his hearing tests. He failed both screenings. More bad news. I can't count the times I broke down and just weeped. I was conflicted. I was being told not to worry and that he was "out of the woods". How can you tell a parent to 'not worry' about their child? That's my job! Here I was STILL helpless to fix what was going on with him.
Chris, my husband, was a God-send. I still had a daughter I had to take care of too. He was there, as much as he could be; as much as Alana would permit. There is only so much you can expect/demand from a 20 month old :-) Even still, he took care of as much as he could, including me. He cried with me, comforted me, and held me as I fell apart day after depressing day.
The doctor's were also slightly baffled at Logan's situation. His need for oxygen persisted much longer than is normal. (more explanation later) I kept hearing, well we're not entirely sure why he still needs the oxygen. He is almost on the lowest setting, but can't seem to let go. (again more explanation later). He was 7 days old before I could take him home:
Alana loves her brother so fiercely! Somehow, at her young age, she recognizes the need to be extra careful with him and his "cord" as we call it. My home feels like a medical supply center. There is one whole corner of my living room filled with oxygen tanks. When Logan was almost 3-months old, they finally figured out what was wrong with him. After a failed in home pulse ox study, after a failed pulse ox reading at the doctor's office, after a echocardigram, that showed no abnormalities, thank God, and a visit to a pulmonologist, we still didn't have a direct answer. It wasn't until his sleep study they confirmed a suspected diagnosis: Central Apnea. This is not sleep apnea, as they can outgrow it, but this is EXTREMELY common in Colorado for the simple fact of the higher altitude.
While the answer seems simple and we should be able to breathe easier; for me, it wasn't. He didn't just have central apnea, he had the worst case the doctor has seen. The average occurences are 8 per hour: Logan had 183 per hour. The only fast cure would be an extended trip sea-level. Otherwise, welcome to our current days. Logan will be on oxygen while he sleeps until further notice. He has grown leaps and bounds in all other areas except for this one. He is 4-months old and wears 6 month clothing. He's been on solid foods for over a week and LOVES it. His hearing is good, despite the tests. He still isn't sleeping through the night, which I blame on the apnea and the cannula in his nose. He is ahead of schedule socially, though he is perfectly content to let us move him places, haha.
So while things are heading in the right direction, I still get up multiple times in the night to check on him. I still worry every time I hear him breathe strangely. I still cry sometimes. Regardless, I do know, in my mind, that he will get better, but that it won't be anytime soon. Even sitting here thinking up and typing this paragraph I've heard him struggle to breathe 15 times. His pulmonologist told me, "I wish I could give you an estimate when he'll be better, but I cannot. But know this, he is a strong guy and WILL overcome."
Only the Lord knows why. But I have faith that my son will get better. Until then, I cherish the moments with him the same way I cherished the moments with Alana. This time it brings me more joy because I get to share these amazing moments with his sister.
Logan James, as I tell your sister, you are dearly loved by us and dearly loved by many.
(Follow along, more stories to come.)
