I held Henrik today! He is SO SMALL!!! I've held a 2 1/2 lb baby so I know small, but when the child is south of two Justin Alberses, that's a whole other ball game. He wiggled around and clutched at some chest hair, but on the whole he was pretty mellow. Like with Anna, Henrik deeply desaturated toward the end of our skin to skin time. It was great to hold him. It's really hard to describe. I remember what it felt like to hold Anders, but I don't remember him being so very small. Places on my body where I remembered feeling arms and legs from the end of our skin to skin time with Anders, there was but a warm blanket.
We are starting over. During the deep desaturation I felt it again, we are completely and totally starting over. Its sort of like teaching a class for a year. You have corrected some grievous errors, and have their writing up to your standards, then the school year is over, they leave your class, and then you start over with a new class that makes all the same mistakes as last year's class. So we start the process again as parents of another son attending NIC University. The nurse gave me a mirror to watch Henrik as he was on my chest, but I moved it up to watch his O2 levels. When Anna was giving me a look like she accidentally ate whipped cream, I just had to look. The nurse scolded me for my breach of protocol because their whole thing is that the parent just enjoys the kangaroo care and ignores the stats. I played along with Anders, but this isn't my first rodeo, as I told her, and those stats matter regardless of what they say. Heck, anyone who sees the facebook pictures can see my veteran status with my Favre-ian beard.
My mother in law wanted me to mention the hospital gown they made me wear. It was allegedly one size fits all. Instead, I looked like a time traveling John Tesh who went back to 1983 to ease superpower tensions through Piano Diplomacy. In all seriousness, I was hulking out of the arms holes. They might have to replace it soon.
The other interesting thing was meeting our neighbor Kristina. She walks around the neighborhood every day, multiple times per day. I've seen her and waved consistently over the past few months, but today something changed and she initiated a stop and chat. One of my weaknesses is that I encourage talkative, eccentric people to keep talking. I learned that Kristina left Poland 33 years ago, which make her departure date 1980, and if you know your Cold War history that's when the spit was hitting the fan in Polska with the striking dock workers in Gdansk and the Red Army threatening to invade. She has two sons, one in England and one in Sugar Land. She watches Chinese TV with her Taiwanese daughter in law, and her grandsons do not visit her enough.
The reason that she stopped me was because she thought "you look like Polak" When I grow my beard, I do tend to look a bit more Slavic, and that's the reason she decided to take a chance and talk to me. Her English was quite broken, but she said that she had been around the world in her many years and she believed that Polish men were the most handsome in the world. She also had a high regard for Hungarians, considering their historical connections with Poland through their shared monarchy. Kristina had a low opinion of the Czechs, however: "Czech's HATE Poles. My neighbor is Czech, she married a Czech. now they are divorced!" The implication being that by marrying a Czech she ruined her life. I don't really understand the animosity. As a Polish American, Prague is one of my favorite cities in the world. Now it's no Krakow, mind you, but it's still pretty awesome.
So Henrik, welcome to the Eagles' Nest, you come from handsome stock. Keep it mellow.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Friday, November 29, 2013
Baby Huffington
Today, Henrik stepped outside of his bubble, the isolette, for the first time since he entered this bubble. He did a wonderful job with his skin to skin contact or "kangaroo care" with Anna. Throughout life we are stepping out of bubbles and creating new ones. Today, I stepped out my bubble with Grandma Ingrid as we ventured into the MO City Walmart to get her a crochet hook. The MO City Walmart is sort of like an ethnically diverse version of the Athens Walmart minus the funk of the Athens Walmart. That place smelled AWFUL even for a Walmart in Appalachia. Neither the Logan nor Gallipolis Walmarts smelled that bad. This is why your read this blog for commentary on Appalachian Walmart odor! By the way, it only took 50 years (not a joke), but the Nelsonville bypass opened last month! Now, it's possible to get from Athens to the Columbus airport in an hour, oh the possibilities...
Anyway, we construct bubbles, find new bubbles, and occasionally step out of our own bubbles. Henrik did remarkably well. He didn't significantly desaturate on his O2 levels until his hour with Anna was almost up. He was content to get back in the isolette when it was over, and cover his eyes with his arm and go back to sleep. It is too early to make generalizations, but that's never stopped me before, so here goes... Henrik seems like more of chilled out dude than Anders. Anders walks around with big flashing buttons on his chest, like Darth Vader, that Henrik will do doubt find and exploit. Henrik just wants to be left alone to sleep. It's kind of an Adam Isherwood to Paul Isherwood scenario, as I understand it.
Henrik's doing all the correct things, just eating and sleeping, and occasionally wiggling for good measure. Anna said Henrik was a bit wiggly with her and had busy hands, but generally was calm. He also had a case of the hiccups to overcome, symbolism, so... I would go back four years for a comparison of Anders' first kangaroo care session, but I want to sleep tonight, so I'll leave that up to you if you are ambitious.
I think one of the reasons that Anna was so emotional during birth this time and that I've had so many strange and varied emotions is that we know with excruciating detail what the months ahead in the hospital look like. Even though Henrik will have different challenges and different points of success, we have a good idea of the basic plot. I don't remember if I said it here or just in a private message, but these months in the NICU are like reliving Middle School. While there are some fun events like Kangaroo Care or 8th grade basketball, for the most part it's awkwardness, uncertainty, and the painful longing for something better over the horizon.
Anders decided that he wanted to call Henrik "Baby Huffington." He has also been building a crib and a room for him out of Legos. Anna and I started talking today about what our schedule will be once the cavalry leaves next week. We have a good plan up to Jan. 6, then will reevaluate. It's sunny again, which makes everything seem better, but it's cool enough that Anna remains happy with the weather. Anna thinks it's funny that I seem to know everyone in the NICU. I tell her that my advantage was not being on mind-altering drugs during my stay in the hospital.
I guess that's about it. Anna had a great day. It's my turn tomorrow. They only want one parent per day on skin to skin contact, but they want the session to last for an hour because in both instances they don't want a lot of back and forth. I'll have to do my neck exercises tonight to mitigate my neck bubble that will show up on pictures tomorrow. It was bad enough last time when I was in my 20s and jogging consistently, so some of those pictures will be pretty bad. I hope that people will be able to see Henrik through my thicket of chest hair. If he's like Anders, he'll learn to twist it and pull the chest hair for entertainment. Well, I've almost polished off this second Caucasian, so it's time to go. I hope you got it all on sale today.
Anyway, we construct bubbles, find new bubbles, and occasionally step out of our own bubbles. Henrik did remarkably well. He didn't significantly desaturate on his O2 levels until his hour with Anna was almost up. He was content to get back in the isolette when it was over, and cover his eyes with his arm and go back to sleep. It is too early to make generalizations, but that's never stopped me before, so here goes... Henrik seems like more of chilled out dude than Anders. Anders walks around with big flashing buttons on his chest, like Darth Vader, that Henrik will do doubt find and exploit. Henrik just wants to be left alone to sleep. It's kind of an Adam Isherwood to Paul Isherwood scenario, as I understand it.
Henrik's doing all the correct things, just eating and sleeping, and occasionally wiggling for good measure. Anna said Henrik was a bit wiggly with her and had busy hands, but generally was calm. He also had a case of the hiccups to overcome, symbolism, so... I would go back four years for a comparison of Anders' first kangaroo care session, but I want to sleep tonight, so I'll leave that up to you if you are ambitious.
I think one of the reasons that Anna was so emotional during birth this time and that I've had so many strange and varied emotions is that we know with excruciating detail what the months ahead in the hospital look like. Even though Henrik will have different challenges and different points of success, we have a good idea of the basic plot. I don't remember if I said it here or just in a private message, but these months in the NICU are like reliving Middle School. While there are some fun events like Kangaroo Care or 8th grade basketball, for the most part it's awkwardness, uncertainty, and the painful longing for something better over the horizon.
Anders decided that he wanted to call Henrik "Baby Huffington." He has also been building a crib and a room for him out of Legos. Anna and I started talking today about what our schedule will be once the cavalry leaves next week. We have a good plan up to Jan. 6, then will reevaluate. It's sunny again, which makes everything seem better, but it's cool enough that Anna remains happy with the weather. Anna thinks it's funny that I seem to know everyone in the NICU. I tell her that my advantage was not being on mind-altering drugs during my stay in the hospital.
I guess that's about it. Anna had a great day. It's my turn tomorrow. They only want one parent per day on skin to skin contact, but they want the session to last for an hour because in both instances they don't want a lot of back and forth. I'll have to do my neck exercises tonight to mitigate my neck bubble that will show up on pictures tomorrow. It was bad enough last time when I was in my 20s and jogging consistently, so some of those pictures will be pretty bad. I hope that people will be able to see Henrik through my thicket of chest hair. If he's like Anders, he'll learn to twist it and pull the chest hair for entertainment. Well, I've almost polished off this second Caucasian, so it's time to go. I hope you got it all on sale today.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
1st Dip on the Coaster
Henrik had his ultrasound today. It showed a spot on his brain, but the radiologist could not tell whether or not it was a brain bleed because it was so small. Even level 1 or level 2 brain bleeds are just monitored, and no action is taken initially. So, it seems that we either have a blip that is nothing or a less than level one brain bleed. They will do another ultrasound in a week to see if they can tell more then. Obviously, we wish that no spot had shown up, but we are glad that it is so small and inconclusively a bleed.
Henrik is back under the lights with Billy Reuben. He is off of humidity because any more time with humidity can lead to yeast infections since preemie skin is so thin. Once they turn the lights off in a day or two, then we can hold him!
Henrik's still getting 25 breaths per minute on the respirator and his 02 levels remain in the mid 20% range.
He's gone up from 6 to 8 mils on his feedings. Henrik is eating enough that he is now getting donor milk. Anna's already starting to taper off her pumping. Donor milk is a relatively new concept here, which is a surprise since they were doing it four years ago in Minneapolis, and it did not seem like some hip, new thing there at that time.
Well, we were overdue for a hiccup, so there it is, and it appears rather minor at this point, but we are officially on the roller coaster now.
We still have much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Until Black Friday...
Henrik is back under the lights with Billy Reuben. He is off of humidity because any more time with humidity can lead to yeast infections since preemie skin is so thin. Once they turn the lights off in a day or two, then we can hold him!
Henrik's still getting 25 breaths per minute on the respirator and his 02 levels remain in the mid 20% range.
He's gone up from 6 to 8 mils on his feedings. Henrik is eating enough that he is now getting donor milk. Anna's already starting to taper off her pumping. Donor milk is a relatively new concept here, which is a surprise since they were doing it four years ago in Minneapolis, and it did not seem like some hip, new thing there at that time.
Well, we were overdue for a hiccup, so there it is, and it appears rather minor at this point, but we are officially on the roller coaster now.
We still have much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Until Black Friday...
Happy Thanksgiving!
Henrik finally had a blowout poop yesterday! Otherwise, he was steady. He's slowly getting weened off of humidity, when he is down to 0% then we will be able to hold him. His brain scan will be either today or tomorrow, and it's an ultrasound not a CT scan.
Grandma Ingrid flew to Texas in style. She missed her connection in KC because she was knitting, getting paged, ended up leaving the security cordon, tried to talk her way back in, which did not work, so she missed her flight. Fortunately, she got on another flight that rerouted her through Love Field and even more fortunately she did not have to leave the plane in Dallas! She sat through the Southwest Airlines Bus Stop, and was on to Houston.
Traffic wasn't bad yesterday in the H, except at Hobby Airport. There were multiple traffic cops, Hobby rentacops, and even an ambulance with sirens blaring. This craziness, however, made the perfect pickup possible. As I creeped into the pickup zone, I saw Mom hiding behind a rental car courtesy bus. I stopped close-ish to the curb, got out of the car, jogged toward Mom as the rentacop yelled at me (I pretended not to hear him, which is easy with my rapidly deteriorating hearing), miraculously she heard me, we got her loaded and we were off to the hospital for Grandma to meet Henrik.
Anders was in tow, which means we brake for hand sanitizer and water fountains. Anders and Henrik had a now typical interaction. Anders yelled hello at his isolette and Henrik covered his ears. Yet, Henrik was glad to see his brother. Anna and I had visited earlier in the afternoon and the only thing that cheered Henrik up was mention of Anders. I did another song and dance number with Brother Bear, which Henrik disliked. That set the tone for the visit. He employed the MN Steve Doctrine: "No Touching!" throughout the visit. Henrik was stretching out quite a bit more yesterday. Today Henrik is 27.1, which is the exact age at which Anders arrived. Henrik's weight is up to 1 lb 11 oz, only 1.5 oz less then his weight when he was born.
We aren't going to the zoo this year as has become our Thanksgiving tradition because every day now is a zoo, across Cambridge Street from the Houston Zoo. We are having Thanksgiving at home with The Grandmas.
Happy Thanksgiving to all! We are thankful for our sons and so much more!
Grandma Ingrid flew to Texas in style. She missed her connection in KC because she was knitting, getting paged, ended up leaving the security cordon, tried to talk her way back in, which did not work, so she missed her flight. Fortunately, she got on another flight that rerouted her through Love Field and even more fortunately she did not have to leave the plane in Dallas! She sat through the Southwest Airlines Bus Stop, and was on to Houston.
Traffic wasn't bad yesterday in the H, except at Hobby Airport. There were multiple traffic cops, Hobby rentacops, and even an ambulance with sirens blaring. This craziness, however, made the perfect pickup possible. As I creeped into the pickup zone, I saw Mom hiding behind a rental car courtesy bus. I stopped close-ish to the curb, got out of the car, jogged toward Mom as the rentacop yelled at me (I pretended not to hear him, which is easy with my rapidly deteriorating hearing), miraculously she heard me, we got her loaded and we were off to the hospital for Grandma to meet Henrik.
Anders was in tow, which means we brake for hand sanitizer and water fountains. Anders and Henrik had a now typical interaction. Anders yelled hello at his isolette and Henrik covered his ears. Yet, Henrik was glad to see his brother. Anna and I had visited earlier in the afternoon and the only thing that cheered Henrik up was mention of Anders. I did another song and dance number with Brother Bear, which Henrik disliked. That set the tone for the visit. He employed the MN Steve Doctrine: "No Touching!" throughout the visit. Henrik was stretching out quite a bit more yesterday. Today Henrik is 27.1, which is the exact age at which Anders arrived. Henrik's weight is up to 1 lb 11 oz, only 1.5 oz less then his weight when he was born.
We aren't going to the zoo this year as has become our Thanksgiving tradition because every day now is a zoo, across Cambridge Street from the Houston Zoo. We are having Thanksgiving at home with The Grandmas.
Happy Thanksgiving to all! We are thankful for our sons and so much more!
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Steady
Today was steady. Nothing much was new. Henrik is a bit constipated, but otherwise his breathing is steady as is everything else. His color is good. He continues to look just like Anders. He was woken up by his nurse to rearrange him and all of his business, and he subsequently held my hand for a while. I did a duet with Brother Bear, a Muppet-style number that Henrik seemed to enjoy so much that he was asleep by the time Anna returned from pumping.
Henrik seems a lot more mellow and sleepy than Anders at this point. Again, Anders wasn't out at this point. He is smaller, his color seems better, he's more laid back, and he looks just like Anders. That's what we know so far. I jumped into the rabbit hole of comparing Anders and Henrik last night by checking information that I'd posted on this blog four years ago, which led to a nasty little bout of insomnia, so I won't be doing that again for a while.
I believe we are supposed to see the sun again tomorrow for the first time in over a week. That must be some kind of record because it's always sunny down here, even on cloudy days. Also, there were snow flakes spotted in the NW suburbs. I'm hoping the projected Thanksgiving freeze turns into a killing frost because it would be nice to do in the bugs for a couple of months.
As you can tell, the visit was uneventful today, but in a good way.
Henrik seems a lot more mellow and sleepy than Anders at this point. Again, Anders wasn't out at this point. He is smaller, his color seems better, he's more laid back, and he looks just like Anders. That's what we know so far. I jumped into the rabbit hole of comparing Anders and Henrik last night by checking information that I'd posted on this blog four years ago, which led to a nasty little bout of insomnia, so I won't be doing that again for a while.
I believe we are supposed to see the sun again tomorrow for the first time in over a week. That must be some kind of record because it's always sunny down here, even on cloudy days. Also, there were snow flakes spotted in the NW suburbs. I'm hoping the projected Thanksgiving freeze turns into a killing frost because it would be nice to do in the bugs for a couple of months.
As you can tell, the visit was uneventful today, but in a good way.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Hold On Loosely, But Don't Let Go
The summer I worked road construction, I worked close enough to a radio market big enough to have a classic rock station. I now find this turgid, stale format almost unlistenable, but when I was 20 it was awesome. That's when I discovered .38 Special and my favorite song from their cannon--"Hold on Loosely." Now, The Special ended up where all classic rock bands end up, the Meigs County Fair, but before that happened a few years ago they served to brighten my spirits on long days holding stops signs in the summer in rural Iowa.
Today, I had the first time experience of holding both of my sons' hands at different times in the day in order to get them to sleep. It was a remarkably similar experience and sensation, except the older one talked to me, "Let me tell you a question..." I held on loosely, but didn't let go. Letting go meant that each would wake up and we'd be close to square one. Yet, I couldn't squeeze too tightly or else they would not be adequately relaxed.
Henrik continues to look like Anders to a degree that amazes us. Once Henrik passes 27 weeks, I'll have to post pictures side by side and see how many people guess the boys correctly (you have a 50/50 shot!)
Anders decided to get Henrik a "brother bear" stuffed animal and deliver it to him today. Anders was so proud last night that he had thought of that idea for a gift. Anders is truly thoughtful and considers others in a way that amazes me. That does not mean that Anders lacks for comic relief, however, as today he changed the 12 Days of Christmas to "12 Tiny Babies."
On Thursday or Friday, Henrik will be weened off of the humidity in his isolette. He will have a CT scan, routine for a 10 day old, and he will have a pic line inserted. At this point we will transition from the "just born" preemie stage to the standard newborn preemie stage at which point we'll be able to hold him with skin to skin contact or "kangaroo care." I'm ready to move to stage two. It has its ups and downs, but it's a lot less scary than stage one.
On an unrelated note, you might be asking, "Where did the name Henrik Arthur come from?" Well, like Anders it was a name that we had agreed on years before Henrik was in our lives. The time between agreeing on Anders and choosing Anders was longer than the time between agreeing on Henrik and choosing Henrik, but we are still talking about a number of years. We travel a lot in the car between whatever far flung locale we live in and our old homes, so Henrik came to us on one of those Appalachian Ohio to the Upper Midwest jaunts we were so fond of taking between 2003 and 2011. My great grandpa was Henry Peterson, and had he been born in Sweden like his parents, he would have been Henrik rather than Henry, so I consider it a family name, regardless it means "Ruler of the Home." Have I already said this? I feel like I have... According to my uncle Jim, Henry Peterson ran for the Kansas House of Representatives from Central Kansas as a Democrat, which makes him a profile in courage, and we are looking for all the courage we Petersons can muster these days!
Since Henrik isn't officially a family name, it was my turn to choose the middle name as Anna chose her great grandpa Nils Anton Ytterboe as the namesake for Anders' middle name. I toyed around with Henrik Richard (my middle name and my grandpa's name) or Henrik Jon (Anna didn't like the flow of this one, and I agreed). Then earlier this year it all fell into place. Anna's beloved grandpa, Dennis Arthur Lokken died after 85 vigorous and influential years on earth as a teacher, coach, and high school principal. Dennis Lokken was a great man, and I don't use that term lightly. His packed funeral in June in Litchfield, MN was full of emotional tributes to him. Dennis was also quite funny, and one of the things he would do in a joking, but somewhat serious manner was to attempt to sell his grandkids (and their spouses) on the name "Dennis Arthur." I remember he and Anna having an exchange over the name...
Anna: "I don't know, Grampa. I just don't really like the name 'Dennis' that much."
Dennis: "I'm deeply offended. What about 'Arthur' then?"
Anna: "Arthur's not bad, I kinda like Arthur."
Dennis (smiling): "Ahhh."
It was decided. Henrik Arthur would be the name. My grandfathers died before I was born so Dennis was like my grandfather.
While we are at it, and since we have retired from further procreation, I might as well toss out our girl name just for the historical record: Vivian Geneva Peterson.
Vivian was Anna's Gramma Lokken's middle name: Joyce Vivian (Ytterboe) Lokken and Geneva was my grandma's name: Geneva Marie (Burnison) Peterson. My only regret in having two boys is that I did not get a chance to honor my grandma in this manner. She was without a doubt one of the two best people I ever knew, my aunt Marilee being the other one. She is perhaps more responsible for the person I am today than anyone else, and continues to be the main reason I am NOT "34 and drinking in some honky tonk, just kickin' hippies asses, and raising hell."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcBOcwgb4OA
(although I am partial to Shiner beer)
Today, I had the first time experience of holding both of my sons' hands at different times in the day in order to get them to sleep. It was a remarkably similar experience and sensation, except the older one talked to me, "Let me tell you a question..." I held on loosely, but didn't let go. Letting go meant that each would wake up and we'd be close to square one. Yet, I couldn't squeeze too tightly or else they would not be adequately relaxed.
Henrik continues to look like Anders to a degree that amazes us. Once Henrik passes 27 weeks, I'll have to post pictures side by side and see how many people guess the boys correctly (you have a 50/50 shot!)
Anders decided to get Henrik a "brother bear" stuffed animal and deliver it to him today. Anders was so proud last night that he had thought of that idea for a gift. Anders is truly thoughtful and considers others in a way that amazes me. That does not mean that Anders lacks for comic relief, however, as today he changed the 12 Days of Christmas to "12 Tiny Babies."
On Thursday or Friday, Henrik will be weened off of the humidity in his isolette. He will have a CT scan, routine for a 10 day old, and he will have a pic line inserted. At this point we will transition from the "just born" preemie stage to the standard newborn preemie stage at which point we'll be able to hold him with skin to skin contact or "kangaroo care." I'm ready to move to stage two. It has its ups and downs, but it's a lot less scary than stage one.
On an unrelated note, you might be asking, "Where did the name Henrik Arthur come from?" Well, like Anders it was a name that we had agreed on years before Henrik was in our lives. The time between agreeing on Anders and choosing Anders was longer than the time between agreeing on Henrik and choosing Henrik, but we are still talking about a number of years. We travel a lot in the car between whatever far flung locale we live in and our old homes, so Henrik came to us on one of those Appalachian Ohio to the Upper Midwest jaunts we were so fond of taking between 2003 and 2011. My great grandpa was Henry Peterson, and had he been born in Sweden like his parents, he would have been Henrik rather than Henry, so I consider it a family name, regardless it means "Ruler of the Home." Have I already said this? I feel like I have... According to my uncle Jim, Henry Peterson ran for the Kansas House of Representatives from Central Kansas as a Democrat, which makes him a profile in courage, and we are looking for all the courage we Petersons can muster these days!
Since Henrik isn't officially a family name, it was my turn to choose the middle name as Anna chose her great grandpa Nils Anton Ytterboe as the namesake for Anders' middle name. I toyed around with Henrik Richard (my middle name and my grandpa's name) or Henrik Jon (Anna didn't like the flow of this one, and I agreed). Then earlier this year it all fell into place. Anna's beloved grandpa, Dennis Arthur Lokken died after 85 vigorous and influential years on earth as a teacher, coach, and high school principal. Dennis Lokken was a great man, and I don't use that term lightly. His packed funeral in June in Litchfield, MN was full of emotional tributes to him. Dennis was also quite funny, and one of the things he would do in a joking, but somewhat serious manner was to attempt to sell his grandkids (and their spouses) on the name "Dennis Arthur." I remember he and Anna having an exchange over the name...
Anna: "I don't know, Grampa. I just don't really like the name 'Dennis' that much."
Dennis: "I'm deeply offended. What about 'Arthur' then?"
Anna: "Arthur's not bad, I kinda like Arthur."
Dennis (smiling): "Ahhh."
It was decided. Henrik Arthur would be the name. My grandfathers died before I was born so Dennis was like my grandfather.
While we are at it, and since we have retired from further procreation, I might as well toss out our girl name just for the historical record: Vivian Geneva Peterson.
Vivian was Anna's Gramma Lokken's middle name: Joyce Vivian (Ytterboe) Lokken and Geneva was my grandma's name: Geneva Marie (Burnison) Peterson. My only regret in having two boys is that I did not get a chance to honor my grandma in this manner. She was without a doubt one of the two best people I ever knew, my aunt Marilee being the other one. She is perhaps more responsible for the person I am today than anyone else, and continues to be the main reason I am NOT "34 and drinking in some honky tonk, just kickin' hippies asses, and raising hell."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcBOcwgb4OA
(although I am partial to Shiner beer)
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Lazy Sunday
Southeast Texas continues to be under the grip of a Blue Norther. It's so "cold" that Trudy has been sitting in my lap this weekend, and when Trudy sits in my lap I fall asleep. There is even talk of a light freeze on Thanksgiving. On this cool, gray day Henrik was also a sleepy guy when we visited him earlier this afternoon. He opened his eyes a bit, but mostly just turned over and kept covering his ears with this massive (proportionally) hands.
They didn't detect the heart murmur today. Again, this is garden variety preemie stuff that they are observing now, and will likely be treated later with medication after they get a read on it. His ventilator was down to 20 breaths per minute from 40 yesterday. Tex was down to a range from 21% (room air) to 25% O2. Billy Reuben was away, but seemed likely to return tomorrow since his levels were rising.
Anna continues to fight the good fight with regard to pumping, but it's going about like last time. Yet, at this point Henrik gets all his feedings from her breast milk.
Our doctor is a St. John's parent. His son is dating one of my advisees (at least as of last month's parent-teacher conferences). This example is one of the reasons locals call Houston the nation's biggest small town, or H-town as it's known down here.
Hasta Luego.
They didn't detect the heart murmur today. Again, this is garden variety preemie stuff that they are observing now, and will likely be treated later with medication after they get a read on it. His ventilator was down to 20 breaths per minute from 40 yesterday. Tex was down to a range from 21% (room air) to 25% O2. Billy Reuben was away, but seemed likely to return tomorrow since his levels were rising.
Anna continues to fight the good fight with regard to pumping, but it's going about like last time. Yet, at this point Henrik gets all his feedings from her breast milk.
Our doctor is a St. John's parent. His son is dating one of my advisees (at least as of last month's parent-teacher conferences). This example is one of the reasons locals call Houston the nation's biggest small town, or H-town as it's known down here.
Hasta Luego.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Brotherly Love
Henrik has a heart murmur. I believe Anders had it too. It's a developmental thing that's treated only with medication. It's something that clears up with time and medicine. Anders has no residual effects from his murmur. There are just a lot of developmental things like this item that he must overcome.
The ventilator was ratcheted up to 40 breaths per minute from only 20 yesterday. They are aggressive about extubation, but Mr. H said "Not so fast!" Yet, he was down to 25% O2 from 29% yesterday (21% is room air). His breathing was much better by the afternoon so they expected him to go down on the ventilator later today.
Even though Henrik came 10 days earlier than Anders, he did not come because of a problem with himself as did Anders. Anders had an infection, which caused him to come early, while for Henrik the problem was with the connection between the uterus and placenta, so it had nothing directly to do with Tex.
Captain Henrik knows our voices, and responds to them. In fact, his O2 saturation levels were so high when he was holding my finger that his machines were beeping off in a positive direction. I never remember Anders' machines beeping off in a positive direction (They probably did, but I've forgotten).
Henrik really lit up, however, when we lifted up Anders to the isolette to see Henrik and talk to him: "He's so small. Ah, he's cute. Hi Henrik!" Henrik's eyes lit up, opened wide, and he started shimmying his arms and legs. Henrik liked hearing our voices, but he was energized by hearing and seeing Anders! Anders then proceeded to color a picture for Henrik. I hope that the CDC's official start of flu season holds off for a while longer because once flu season is called Anders cannot visit Henrik, and seeing his brother is good for Henrik's progress.
One of the funny things happening around us is that a Blue Norther swept off the plains yesterday, which has dropped temperatures to 50 degrees. You can almost see your breath. People down here are dressed like it's below zero, and they are staying home. The roads have been remarkably clear for a weekend.
That's the update from chilly Texas, I'll write more when there is more to say.
The ventilator was ratcheted up to 40 breaths per minute from only 20 yesterday. They are aggressive about extubation, but Mr. H said "Not so fast!" Yet, he was down to 25% O2 from 29% yesterday (21% is room air). His breathing was much better by the afternoon so they expected him to go down on the ventilator later today.
Even though Henrik came 10 days earlier than Anders, he did not come because of a problem with himself as did Anders. Anders had an infection, which caused him to come early, while for Henrik the problem was with the connection between the uterus and placenta, so it had nothing directly to do with Tex.
Captain Henrik knows our voices, and responds to them. In fact, his O2 saturation levels were so high when he was holding my finger that his machines were beeping off in a positive direction. I never remember Anders' machines beeping off in a positive direction (They probably did, but I've forgotten).
Henrik really lit up, however, when we lifted up Anders to the isolette to see Henrik and talk to him: "He's so small. Ah, he's cute. Hi Henrik!" Henrik's eyes lit up, opened wide, and he started shimmying his arms and legs. Henrik liked hearing our voices, but he was energized by hearing and seeing Anders! Anders then proceeded to color a picture for Henrik. I hope that the CDC's official start of flu season holds off for a while longer because once flu season is called Anders cannot visit Henrik, and seeing his brother is good for Henrik's progress.
One of the funny things happening around us is that a Blue Norther swept off the plains yesterday, which has dropped temperatures to 50 degrees. You can almost see your breath. People down here are dressed like it's below zero, and they are staying home. The roads have been remarkably clear for a weekend.
That's the update from chilly Texas, I'll write more when there is more to say.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Don't Mess With Texas!
I didn’t have time to proofread this
as we have to get going to the hospital, but I thought it was important to
finally get the birth story up on the interwebs.
Monday was one of my favorite teaching days of the year. In my senior elective we talked 80s foreign policy, and after two dull and downer weeks of the Market Revolution and Slavery, respectively, we got to discuss Manifest Destiny, the Texas Revolution, and the Annexation of Texas. I love hearing all the tales of Texas Independence that the students tell, debunking what myths I can, and ultimately agreeing to disagree on a lot of stuff. I play the gadfly, continually needling students about the Texas creation myths including the Battle of the Alamo, the Yellow Rose of Texas, etc... At some point between the first and third time I produced this little riff, I must have messed with Texas, and one thing we know: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo1DwpijYnk
I finished my last class and checked my phone at about 2:45 pm, saw a message from Anna, thought it odd, listened, and the adrenaline started pumping. It reminded me of talking to Greg (Anna's dad) on that sunny Saturday morning in July of '09. I quickly packed up my room and my things, luckily found three colleagues in a meeting so I didn't have to worry about calling later, and then I took the bus back to Sugar Land. Fortunately, the bus stop is only a block away from the hospital. I found Anna in the "Pregnancy Triage" room, which sounded ominous. She was having "cramps," which were identified soon after I arrived at 4 pm as contractions. Anna had left school around 1:30 pm. just to get checked up. She said that she had been feeling a bit “whoopy” in the morning, and I recalled that on Sunday Anna had complained about heartburn. I told Anna to tell her nurse about it on Tuesday when she came to administer the progesterone shot on Tuesday.
By 4:30 Sugar Land Methodist Hospital was calling these cramps “contractions.” We made arrangements for Anders and called the appropriate people at work, and girded ourselves for another wild ride. We were told around that time that Anna would be transferred “downtown,” which was a bit confusing. A quick aside, when someone says “Downtown” in the context of Houston it can be confusing because Houston looks like it has three downtowns owing to the city’s proud eschewal of zoning laws, which were so popular in the 20th century. The downtowns with tall buildings grouped together are: the business district, the Texas Medical Center (TMC), and the Galleria (Rich People Downtown). So, I thought we were going to the business district, wondering where the hospital was in the business district.
The contractions started coming more frequently. I was now riding in the ambulance rather than following behind the ambulance. The medics arrived between 5:30 and 6:00 pm to take Anna down to the ambulance, through Houston rush hour, and to the TMC, not the business district at Children’s Memorial Hermann Hospital. Three EMTs showed up, two petite and polite Texas women, and Michael, a rotund, loquacious, OCD Cajun. They were so small, and he looked like the guy you would see during the Crawfish Festival at Pappadeaux drifting out of the kitchen to chat up the customers. He sounded just like the judge on “Maine Justice,” the SNL sketch starring Jason Sudekis. Or, if you went to grad school with me, he sounded like Dr. Todd Pfeffer doing the impression of his high school gym teacher in North Carolina, Jim Spivey, and his “Am Assembly Snow SchEEEDuooole.” Or, just one more, he sounded like Jackie Gleason’s “Beauford T. Justice” from “Smokey and the Bandit.” I don’t think I can do justice to how unnerving this guy was for us. The Cajun accent has to be the dumbest sounding accent in the country. I used to think it was the Appalachian accent, but with the Appalachian accent they talk at such a fast mumble that you miss 40% of the words, which puts you back on your heels. You understand every word of the Cajun accent, and the words coming out of Michael’s mouth didn’t make him sound any smarter. For example, he kept making “women’s lib” jokes about Anna moving herself from the hospital bed to the gurney. WHAT???! Before the transfer, he became obsessed with finding a brown blanket to cover Anna for the trip out. By the way, it wasn’t cold outside, and Anna wasn’t cold at that point either, but in lieu of transferring Anna to the gurney, Michael spent precious minutes looking for the blanket, accusing his coworkers of stashing it, and leading me to the point that I was ready to do violence on Michael. Finally, one of the women snapped at him, “She’s going to be okay without the blanket! We need to get going!” As she finished, he pulled it out of his cart with a big, dumb grin on his face, “Awh seh, hew itchis! Wewl, Ah gess we caaan git goin’ nah!”
Anna rode in the back with the ladies, who told her that if contractions got any closer together, they were 2-3 minutes apart at that time that they would have to pull over and Henrik would be born on the Southwest Freeway. I, meanwhile, was subject to my own pain, riding in the front with Michael. My ragin’ at this Cajun only increased as he made a series of threadbare jokes to Anna and me about how I was driving the ambulance, and what a crazy driver I was. It was almost as though he believed that by making more repetitive jokes; he could make up for their lameness. I would get an update every so often from the EMTs, saying that Anna was doing well. They even sounded like they were having calm conversations as I heard more and more about my aggressive phantom driving.
We were going against traffic as we headed into the city, but in the nation’s 4th largest city with a sick civic competition with LA to have the nation’s worst traffic; things are never good at rush hour. We had to navigate through one road construction snarl, two freeway accidents, the two busiest freeway interchanges in the city, and another accident on the surface roads. I will give Michael his due in the middle of the city and on the surface roads as he could anticipate the morons before their moronicness manifested itself.
We arrived at Children’s Memorial Hermann at about 7 pm. Anna was in better spirits because we were finally there and she would not be giving birth on the shoulder across from the Succeed in Life Center or the South Vietnamese carnival. The next frustration was the time it took to get some real medical attention. The EMTs were nice enough, but they couldn’t even tell which side was down on a bedpan. We could not be seen until the PAPERWORK was finished. This is when the stress of the day got to me and I started shouting (Dan Seeley is nodding along, smiling his Cheshire Cat-faced grin right now). Anna snapped at me for snapping (this all will sound familiar if you were with us for the Anders Experience), but the female EMTs loved it: “Absolutely, Dad, you FIGHT for your woman!” 20-30 minutes later a nurse arrived, and another 10-15 minutes later a resident doctor showed up, Dr. Sarah Berg. Anna reiterated what she had been saying about not wanted to have this baby now. Dr. Berg replied with a healthy dose of Texas swagger: “There is no better place in the country to be. We are going to do our best to hold off that baby. You are in the best place in the country for something like this to happen, there is no better place. We will keep that baby in. Whenever you do have that baby, though, it will have the best care in the country here.” A doctor would never talk this way in Minnesota; you’d probably loose your medical license.
For the next hour or so the drugs like magnesium were working, the contractions were spacing out to 6-7 minutes, and appeared less severe to me. Around 8:45 the contractions became more severe and soon came more frequently. Dr. Berg returned a bit after 9:30, evaluated the situation, for example, Anna was bleeding from the Gates of Heaven and so called in the NICU delivery team. More and more nurses, doctors, and random med students began showing up in the room. The doctor credited with the deliver, Dr. Morris, shared a last name and strongly resembled one of my 8th grade B squad caggers from last year, but she was not related to him.
So much of what happened over the next hour was déjà. I was holding Anna’s hand and stroking her hair, but I was not on leg duty like last time. As the time approached, one of the doctors said: “I don’t want to scare you Mrs. Peterson, but it is really important that you push as hard as you can RIGHT NOW.” To this point, it had been a steady push through a ten count, slow and steady; they were hurrying Anna, but not rushing her along. Well, Anna now realized that play time was over and it was winning time. I’m going to now make a sports analogy that Anna will hate three months later when she reads this. She got a look in her eyes that Michael Jordan used to get at the end of basketball games when it was winning time. It was a steely-eyed determination to dominate through the force of will. She overcame her epidural (I had to leave for this procedure, which sounded like 20 minutes of Hell. People walking by the room were stopped in their tracks by Anna’s screaming. Anna had told me earlier that when she met the anesthesiologist that she imagined him as my friend Brad, an anesthesiologist, with whom she has sparred over the years on numerous topics such as whether to drink OJ while pregnant. This guy had no idea of the 2nd hand animosity directed at him), which she was overjoyed to have had time to receive this time, and pushed Henrik out just a couple minutes after that non-warning warning. It turns out that Henrik had the umbilical cord wrapped around his head at that point. It was such a short time that it did no damage, but only through Anna’s hard work was it such a short time.
Henrik arrived with a splash. Anna’s water broke on the way out, but the delivery doc was ready with a splash guard facemask and a hair net. Henrik did not cry, unlike Anders. I could tell right away that he was smaller than Anders. They rushed him over to the NICU team. Anna later told me that with all the drugs, she felt like things were just happening around her and that she was not a big part of things. After Henrik was out, this could not have been truer. The room shifted to the table where they were working on him. I noticed that the heart rate was in the 30s, and the team was talking in hushed tones. All the worst thoughts rushed into my head. I didn’t change my position next to Anna on the bed or say anything to her. I just stared at the NICU team and the heart monitor. After what was probably five minutes, but felt like an eternity, his heart rate was up in the 60s then the 80s, then the low 100s. They started using conversational voices and invited me over to hold Henrik and one member of the team snapped some picture of me with him. After a few more minutes, they brought him over to Anna. It was amazing to see such a deep, instant bond between the two of them. Henrik knew her and felt safe in her arms. After a minute or two, they took him away to the NICU. I believe that he had a breathing tube while we were holding him, unlike Anders. Henrik arrived 10 days earlier than Anders at 25 weeks 5 days rather than 27 weeks 1 day.
Our good friend Deepa, a doctor herself, came into the room right after Henrik was born to bring our stuff, snap a few pictures, and tell us that she recorded the audio of the birth outside of the room. Anders was staying at her house, which was familiar to him since we go over there a lot and he frequently plays with their daughters Anya and Riya. Anya was also a preemie, born at 24 weeks 0 days. She weighed 1 lb 9 oz, which is only 3.5 oz less than Henrik did although he arrived 12 days later. Deepa was a good, calming presence to have around. Although I would like to be calm, I usually end up like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zT2ae1WkuC0 (Dan Seeley is nodding even more vigorously now.) For example, after we were transferred to the 6th floor recovery room, I accidentally ripped out Anna’s IV in the middle of the night as I tripped over it, trying to help her to the bathroom. I’m a bull with a portable China shop.
Odds and Ends: Henrik was born in room 541 at 10:53 pm. We recovered in room 641… Our recovery show was “Breaking Bad,” rather than “The Golden Girls” as it was last time. We just finished the first half of season five. I won’t give anything away, but who knew taking a dump could be profitable police work!... Being born on Nov. 18, makes for the first November birthday in our immediate families. With Anders we arrived home in November, now this new adventure begins in November. I suspect that when it’s all over we will have been in the NICU every month of the year save April, May, and June… The hospital is great. They are relaxed, but have a quiet confident. In Minneapolis they were so fussy that it put us on edge at times. Memorial Hermann will not put Anna and mind-altering drugs to try to get milk to flow, and they’ve never even heard of infant massage, so those are both advantages of Fairview. That said, we received excellent care in Minneapolis, but there were just a few things and there will be things here that just make you go “ugh.”… Anna and I are doing as well as can be expected… Anders doesn’t totally get what is going on, but I think meeting Henrik yesterday helped. He yelled his greeting to his little brother who definitely recognized the voice, then scrunched his face and covered his ears. So it begins.
Monday was one of my favorite teaching days of the year. In my senior elective we talked 80s foreign policy, and after two dull and downer weeks of the Market Revolution and Slavery, respectively, we got to discuss Manifest Destiny, the Texas Revolution, and the Annexation of Texas. I love hearing all the tales of Texas Independence that the students tell, debunking what myths I can, and ultimately agreeing to disagree on a lot of stuff. I play the gadfly, continually needling students about the Texas creation myths including the Battle of the Alamo, the Yellow Rose of Texas, etc... At some point between the first and third time I produced this little riff, I must have messed with Texas, and one thing we know: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo1DwpijYnk
I finished my last class and checked my phone at about 2:45 pm, saw a message from Anna, thought it odd, listened, and the adrenaline started pumping. It reminded me of talking to Greg (Anna's dad) on that sunny Saturday morning in July of '09. I quickly packed up my room and my things, luckily found three colleagues in a meeting so I didn't have to worry about calling later, and then I took the bus back to Sugar Land. Fortunately, the bus stop is only a block away from the hospital. I found Anna in the "Pregnancy Triage" room, which sounded ominous. She was having "cramps," which were identified soon after I arrived at 4 pm as contractions. Anna had left school around 1:30 pm. just to get checked up. She said that she had been feeling a bit “whoopy” in the morning, and I recalled that on Sunday Anna had complained about heartburn. I told Anna to tell her nurse about it on Tuesday when she came to administer the progesterone shot on Tuesday.
By 4:30 Sugar Land Methodist Hospital was calling these cramps “contractions.” We made arrangements for Anders and called the appropriate people at work, and girded ourselves for another wild ride. We were told around that time that Anna would be transferred “downtown,” which was a bit confusing. A quick aside, when someone says “Downtown” in the context of Houston it can be confusing because Houston looks like it has three downtowns owing to the city’s proud eschewal of zoning laws, which were so popular in the 20th century. The downtowns with tall buildings grouped together are: the business district, the Texas Medical Center (TMC), and the Galleria (Rich People Downtown). So, I thought we were going to the business district, wondering where the hospital was in the business district.
The contractions started coming more frequently. I was now riding in the ambulance rather than following behind the ambulance. The medics arrived between 5:30 and 6:00 pm to take Anna down to the ambulance, through Houston rush hour, and to the TMC, not the business district at Children’s Memorial Hermann Hospital. Three EMTs showed up, two petite and polite Texas women, and Michael, a rotund, loquacious, OCD Cajun. They were so small, and he looked like the guy you would see during the Crawfish Festival at Pappadeaux drifting out of the kitchen to chat up the customers. He sounded just like the judge on “Maine Justice,” the SNL sketch starring Jason Sudekis. Or, if you went to grad school with me, he sounded like Dr. Todd Pfeffer doing the impression of his high school gym teacher in North Carolina, Jim Spivey, and his “Am Assembly Snow SchEEEDuooole.” Or, just one more, he sounded like Jackie Gleason’s “Beauford T. Justice” from “Smokey and the Bandit.” I don’t think I can do justice to how unnerving this guy was for us. The Cajun accent has to be the dumbest sounding accent in the country. I used to think it was the Appalachian accent, but with the Appalachian accent they talk at such a fast mumble that you miss 40% of the words, which puts you back on your heels. You understand every word of the Cajun accent, and the words coming out of Michael’s mouth didn’t make him sound any smarter. For example, he kept making “women’s lib” jokes about Anna moving herself from the hospital bed to the gurney. WHAT???! Before the transfer, he became obsessed with finding a brown blanket to cover Anna for the trip out. By the way, it wasn’t cold outside, and Anna wasn’t cold at that point either, but in lieu of transferring Anna to the gurney, Michael spent precious minutes looking for the blanket, accusing his coworkers of stashing it, and leading me to the point that I was ready to do violence on Michael. Finally, one of the women snapped at him, “She’s going to be okay without the blanket! We need to get going!” As she finished, he pulled it out of his cart with a big, dumb grin on his face, “Awh seh, hew itchis! Wewl, Ah gess we caaan git goin’ nah!”
Anna rode in the back with the ladies, who told her that if contractions got any closer together, they were 2-3 minutes apart at that time that they would have to pull over and Henrik would be born on the Southwest Freeway. I, meanwhile, was subject to my own pain, riding in the front with Michael. My ragin’ at this Cajun only increased as he made a series of threadbare jokes to Anna and me about how I was driving the ambulance, and what a crazy driver I was. It was almost as though he believed that by making more repetitive jokes; he could make up for their lameness. I would get an update every so often from the EMTs, saying that Anna was doing well. They even sounded like they were having calm conversations as I heard more and more about my aggressive phantom driving.
We were going against traffic as we headed into the city, but in the nation’s 4th largest city with a sick civic competition with LA to have the nation’s worst traffic; things are never good at rush hour. We had to navigate through one road construction snarl, two freeway accidents, the two busiest freeway interchanges in the city, and another accident on the surface roads. I will give Michael his due in the middle of the city and on the surface roads as he could anticipate the morons before their moronicness manifested itself.
We arrived at Children’s Memorial Hermann at about 7 pm. Anna was in better spirits because we were finally there and she would not be giving birth on the shoulder across from the Succeed in Life Center or the South Vietnamese carnival. The next frustration was the time it took to get some real medical attention. The EMTs were nice enough, but they couldn’t even tell which side was down on a bedpan. We could not be seen until the PAPERWORK was finished. This is when the stress of the day got to me and I started shouting (Dan Seeley is nodding along, smiling his Cheshire Cat-faced grin right now). Anna snapped at me for snapping (this all will sound familiar if you were with us for the Anders Experience), but the female EMTs loved it: “Absolutely, Dad, you FIGHT for your woman!” 20-30 minutes later a nurse arrived, and another 10-15 minutes later a resident doctor showed up, Dr. Sarah Berg. Anna reiterated what she had been saying about not wanted to have this baby now. Dr. Berg replied with a healthy dose of Texas swagger: “There is no better place in the country to be. We are going to do our best to hold off that baby. You are in the best place in the country for something like this to happen, there is no better place. We will keep that baby in. Whenever you do have that baby, though, it will have the best care in the country here.” A doctor would never talk this way in Minnesota; you’d probably loose your medical license.
For the next hour or so the drugs like magnesium were working, the contractions were spacing out to 6-7 minutes, and appeared less severe to me. Around 8:45 the contractions became more severe and soon came more frequently. Dr. Berg returned a bit after 9:30, evaluated the situation, for example, Anna was bleeding from the Gates of Heaven and so called in the NICU delivery team. More and more nurses, doctors, and random med students began showing up in the room. The doctor credited with the deliver, Dr. Morris, shared a last name and strongly resembled one of my 8th grade B squad caggers from last year, but she was not related to him.
So much of what happened over the next hour was déjà. I was holding Anna’s hand and stroking her hair, but I was not on leg duty like last time. As the time approached, one of the doctors said: “I don’t want to scare you Mrs. Peterson, but it is really important that you push as hard as you can RIGHT NOW.” To this point, it had been a steady push through a ten count, slow and steady; they were hurrying Anna, but not rushing her along. Well, Anna now realized that play time was over and it was winning time. I’m going to now make a sports analogy that Anna will hate three months later when she reads this. She got a look in her eyes that Michael Jordan used to get at the end of basketball games when it was winning time. It was a steely-eyed determination to dominate through the force of will. She overcame her epidural (I had to leave for this procedure, which sounded like 20 minutes of Hell. People walking by the room were stopped in their tracks by Anna’s screaming. Anna had told me earlier that when she met the anesthesiologist that she imagined him as my friend Brad, an anesthesiologist, with whom she has sparred over the years on numerous topics such as whether to drink OJ while pregnant. This guy had no idea of the 2nd hand animosity directed at him), which she was overjoyed to have had time to receive this time, and pushed Henrik out just a couple minutes after that non-warning warning. It turns out that Henrik had the umbilical cord wrapped around his head at that point. It was such a short time that it did no damage, but only through Anna’s hard work was it such a short time.
Henrik arrived with a splash. Anna’s water broke on the way out, but the delivery doc was ready with a splash guard facemask and a hair net. Henrik did not cry, unlike Anders. I could tell right away that he was smaller than Anders. They rushed him over to the NICU team. Anna later told me that with all the drugs, she felt like things were just happening around her and that she was not a big part of things. After Henrik was out, this could not have been truer. The room shifted to the table where they were working on him. I noticed that the heart rate was in the 30s, and the team was talking in hushed tones. All the worst thoughts rushed into my head. I didn’t change my position next to Anna on the bed or say anything to her. I just stared at the NICU team and the heart monitor. After what was probably five minutes, but felt like an eternity, his heart rate was up in the 60s then the 80s, then the low 100s. They started using conversational voices and invited me over to hold Henrik and one member of the team snapped some picture of me with him. After a few more minutes, they brought him over to Anna. It was amazing to see such a deep, instant bond between the two of them. Henrik knew her and felt safe in her arms. After a minute or two, they took him away to the NICU. I believe that he had a breathing tube while we were holding him, unlike Anders. Henrik arrived 10 days earlier than Anders at 25 weeks 5 days rather than 27 weeks 1 day.
Our good friend Deepa, a doctor herself, came into the room right after Henrik was born to bring our stuff, snap a few pictures, and tell us that she recorded the audio of the birth outside of the room. Anders was staying at her house, which was familiar to him since we go over there a lot and he frequently plays with their daughters Anya and Riya. Anya was also a preemie, born at 24 weeks 0 days. She weighed 1 lb 9 oz, which is only 3.5 oz less than Henrik did although he arrived 12 days later. Deepa was a good, calming presence to have around. Although I would like to be calm, I usually end up like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zT2ae1WkuC0 (Dan Seeley is nodding even more vigorously now.) For example, after we were transferred to the 6th floor recovery room, I accidentally ripped out Anna’s IV in the middle of the night as I tripped over it, trying to help her to the bathroom. I’m a bull with a portable China shop.
Odds and Ends: Henrik was born in room 541 at 10:53 pm. We recovered in room 641… Our recovery show was “Breaking Bad,” rather than “The Golden Girls” as it was last time. We just finished the first half of season five. I won’t give anything away, but who knew taking a dump could be profitable police work!... Being born on Nov. 18, makes for the first November birthday in our immediate families. With Anders we arrived home in November, now this new adventure begins in November. I suspect that when it’s all over we will have been in the NICU every month of the year save April, May, and June… The hospital is great. They are relaxed, but have a quiet confident. In Minneapolis they were so fussy that it put us on edge at times. Memorial Hermann will not put Anna and mind-altering drugs to try to get milk to flow, and they’ve never even heard of infant massage, so those are both advantages of Fairview. That said, we received excellent care in Minneapolis, but there were just a few things and there will be things here that just make you go “ugh.”… Anna and I are doing as well as can be expected… Anders doesn’t totally get what is going on, but I think meeting Henrik yesterday helped. He yelled his greeting to his little brother who definitely recognized the voice, then scrunched his face and covered his ears. So it begins.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Henrik Arthur Peterson
Henrik Arthur Peterson was born at 10:53 CDT at Memorial Hermann Children's Hospital in the Space City of Houston, Texas to Jon, Anna, and his twin separated by four years, Anders Anton. He was 1 lb. 12.5 oz. and 13.75 inches long.
The reason he arrived early was because the placenta tore away from the wall of the uterus. Henrik's umbilical cord was briefly wrapped around his neck, but that problem was quickly rectified as Anna's speedy and efficient pushes.
Anna remains in the hospital until tomorrow. Anders is in good hands. I can't wait to see him tonight for the first time since he became a big brother. Anna gets released tomorrow, at which point we can start to experiment with what normal now looks like.
I will have a more complete chronicle of this saga with well-developed supporting characters, geographic details, historical context, realistic dialogue, and the rapier wit loyal readers have come to expect from a Jon Peterson blog post.
The big difference between having a preemie in your twenties with no kids at home and having one in your 30s with an dynamic, loquacious four year old quirky professor at home is that nowadays we are TIRED ALL THE TIME.
Adios,
Daddy Eating (the name Anders programmed into my iPhone by which Siri addresses me)
The reason he arrived early was because the placenta tore away from the wall of the uterus. Henrik's umbilical cord was briefly wrapped around his neck, but that problem was quickly rectified as Anna's speedy and efficient pushes.
Anna remains in the hospital until tomorrow. Anders is in good hands. I can't wait to see him tonight for the first time since he became a big brother. Anna gets released tomorrow, at which point we can start to experiment with what normal now looks like.
I will have a more complete chronicle of this saga with well-developed supporting characters, geographic details, historical context, realistic dialogue, and the rapier wit loyal readers have come to expect from a Jon Peterson blog post.
The big difference between having a preemie in your twenties with no kids at home and having one in your 30s with an dynamic, loquacious four year old quirky professor at home is that nowadays we are TIRED ALL THE TIME.
Adios,
Daddy Eating (the name Anders programmed into my iPhone by which Siri addresses me)
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Halloween; Odds and Ends
Anders was "Jack 'O Letters" for Halloween. It was a smashing success! Anders did not like going to a Halloween party on Oct. 19 because it was too early, but once our friend Stephen Kehs put a jar of candy corn in front of Anders to guess how many were in the jar, then he was much better and enjoyed the remainder of the party. He had another great time at Sugar Land Town Center for their Halloween bash. He stood in two really long lines for candy. This is the first year he has been patient enough to do so. We had lost his good will by the time I wanted to pose in front of the giant inflatable pumpkin. We also went to Zoo Boo last weekend where we once again saw the Kehses. Anders' Zoo Boo tattoo is still showing in parts. We didn't stay too long because it was, well, a zoo.
Halloween was almost a washout. It rained from afternoon on the 30th until early afternoon on Halloween. Even the bayou in front of our house had water. It was gorgeous weather by the time that we went out. Anders had quite a hall as he took home 83 pieces of candy, up from his record of 76 pieces last year. These are Anders' numbers, so you can rely on their accuracy. One of Anders' friends from school, Oscar, came trick or treating at our house, which was a pleasant surprise. The other interesting cultural difference between here and back home or even our old neighborhood is that over half of the adults and some of the people sitting outside handing out candy were drinking! It made for quite a cheerful Halloween.
Anders has become more accepting of the little brother he has coming. We had a meltdown in Trader Joe's about a month ago when we were buying pumpkins after Anna explained that she was buying a family of four pumpkins. About 10 minutes later, Anders fully melted down. Once he was calmer, he asked, "Why do you need another baby when you have me?" That was tough to hear. Anders is talking about the baby more now and in a more constructive manner, but that positive trend line can always change. One of the things that has helped Anders is the role playing game he has created where he is the father, I am "Mother," and Anna is "Kid." Anna impersonates Anders. She revels in doing all the annoying things that Anders does to drive her crazy. It's funny to see him get exasperated with her and hustle to the kitchen when "Kid" demands water. Kid is a boy if you were wondering. Anders listens to me as "Mother" better than in real life as my nagging compels action rather than ignoring. The long and the short of it is that he is dealing better than before.
Anders likes kindergarten at his daycare. He calls it Kindergarten because it's kind of kindergarten. He gives his after school teachers homework to do with the worksheets he makes up. He also does this for us at home. Anders received an "unsatisfactory" in science class because he didn't follow directions. This is a problem for Anders. The assignments are too easy for him, so he answers questions that he wishes he was asked. Anders also very much enjoys Sunday School. I think he'll like choir too, which is Sunday at 4 pm, but he's only been 1 out of 3 times since choir often conflicts with nap time. I think God understands that Anders needs his naps.
One of the fun things about being a parent is remembering a bunch of stuff I'd forgotten. For example, I now lay down next to Anders in his bed for five minutes at bedtime. It seems to help him calm down, refrain from popping out of bed, and ultimately going to sleep. My uncle Fred used this technique when we went down and stayed with him. Anders holds his poop at school, so when he gets home he has to go, but he needs me to hold his hand. I used to get my aunt Marilee to hold my hand. Marilee would amble in, pull up a stool next to me, and then squeeze my hand hard when I needed it. I know it sounds gross, but it's a really sweet memory that I'm glad I have again. Halloween also reminded me of how much better today's old people are at giving candy than they were when we were kids in the 80s. I don't know how many of those orange peanuts, strange wax paper candy, or packages of candy corn I used to get. Today's old people understand that giving snickers or M&Ms or something of similar high quality is preferred. I feel like the old people of the 1980s knew their candy was bad, but they gave it anyway because it offered those old folks the opportunity to tell us perplexed trick or treaters how their parents gave them orange candy peanuts as they broke the news of President McKinley's death.
I've rambled long enough. November in Texas puts me in such a good mood, like May used to back home.
Halloween was almost a washout. It rained from afternoon on the 30th until early afternoon on Halloween. Even the bayou in front of our house had water. It was gorgeous weather by the time that we went out. Anders had quite a hall as he took home 83 pieces of candy, up from his record of 76 pieces last year. These are Anders' numbers, so you can rely on their accuracy. One of Anders' friends from school, Oscar, came trick or treating at our house, which was a pleasant surprise. The other interesting cultural difference between here and back home or even our old neighborhood is that over half of the adults and some of the people sitting outside handing out candy were drinking! It made for quite a cheerful Halloween.
Anders has become more accepting of the little brother he has coming. We had a meltdown in Trader Joe's about a month ago when we were buying pumpkins after Anna explained that she was buying a family of four pumpkins. About 10 minutes later, Anders fully melted down. Once he was calmer, he asked, "Why do you need another baby when you have me?" That was tough to hear. Anders is talking about the baby more now and in a more constructive manner, but that positive trend line can always change. One of the things that has helped Anders is the role playing game he has created where he is the father, I am "Mother," and Anna is "Kid." Anna impersonates Anders. She revels in doing all the annoying things that Anders does to drive her crazy. It's funny to see him get exasperated with her and hustle to the kitchen when "Kid" demands water. Kid is a boy if you were wondering. Anders listens to me as "Mother" better than in real life as my nagging compels action rather than ignoring. The long and the short of it is that he is dealing better than before.
Anders likes kindergarten at his daycare. He calls it Kindergarten because it's kind of kindergarten. He gives his after school teachers homework to do with the worksheets he makes up. He also does this for us at home. Anders received an "unsatisfactory" in science class because he didn't follow directions. This is a problem for Anders. The assignments are too easy for him, so he answers questions that he wishes he was asked. Anders also very much enjoys Sunday School. I think he'll like choir too, which is Sunday at 4 pm, but he's only been 1 out of 3 times since choir often conflicts with nap time. I think God understands that Anders needs his naps.
One of the fun things about being a parent is remembering a bunch of stuff I'd forgotten. For example, I now lay down next to Anders in his bed for five minutes at bedtime. It seems to help him calm down, refrain from popping out of bed, and ultimately going to sleep. My uncle Fred used this technique when we went down and stayed with him. Anders holds his poop at school, so when he gets home he has to go, but he needs me to hold his hand. I used to get my aunt Marilee to hold my hand. Marilee would amble in, pull up a stool next to me, and then squeeze my hand hard when I needed it. I know it sounds gross, but it's a really sweet memory that I'm glad I have again. Halloween also reminded me of how much better today's old people are at giving candy than they were when we were kids in the 80s. I don't know how many of those orange peanuts, strange wax paper candy, or packages of candy corn I used to get. Today's old people understand that giving snickers or M&Ms or something of similar high quality is preferred. I feel like the old people of the 1980s knew their candy was bad, but they gave it anyway because it offered those old folks the opportunity to tell us perplexed trick or treaters how their parents gave them orange candy peanuts as they broke the news of President McKinley's death.
I've rambled long enough. November in Texas puts me in such a good mood, like May used to back home.
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