A Happy Surprise

With another Monday rolling around yesterday, Steven started back to work. His company has set him up to be able to work from Ogden on a company laptop. It is such a blessing for him to be able to do this, and allows us to keep our focus where it needs to be.

As we visited Alex during his 12:00 care time (time to change his diaper, give him his feedings, turn him around, etc.) today's nurse surprised us by asking if we had held Alex yet, and if we'd be interested in holding him today. Ha! 

She explained that we'd hold him in the little bed he lays in, and got out a gown for me to wear. As I sat down in the chair and followed the nurse's instructions, I felt like a 4 year old getting ready to hold a new baby. I hadn't anticipated being able to hold him for a few more weeks yet, but he's doing so well with everything, they said he was ready to at least give it a shot.

It's a funny thing to feel emotions of elation along with terror. Of course I want to hold my baby! But is he ready? Is he going to tolerate it well? He's too small for me to hold! But as she handed him to me, my heart melted as it does every day. I felt peace at finally having my infant in my arms.

His oxygen and other numbers stayed good as I held him for a good while. He cried, but was calmed down by a drop of sucrose, and a nurse showed me how to hold his head so he feels pressure as he would in the womb. He's so tiny that his nervous system can't handle much stimulation. We have to limit how often we touch him, and make sure that when we do, it's by placing our hands firmly on his body. Light touching is too much for his system. I rocked him (such tiny motions), I let him hold my finger, and I watched as he cried, then slept, then cried.

Alex graduated from the tubal ventilator going into his lungs this week, and now just has the nasal oxygen tube. Hooray! It's so nice to see a little more of his face. Since its removal, we've been able to hear him cry, and a sadder thing I have never heard. Because he has to do his own breathing now, he hasn't had quite the sedation that he had previously. This means - more crying. Because he's so small, he doesn't respond well to the norms of comforting. I can't pat him, I can't stroke him, I can't do anything but watch and hope he's okay. Even my voice is often too much for him. I feel helpless in his discomfort.

I was able to hold him for about 20 minutes, and he tolerated it very well. His numbers started to go down, so the nurses put him back. When Steven and I expressed our surprise that we were able to take him out when we had thought we wouldn't be able to for several weeks, the nurses told us it's possible because of how extremely well he is doing with everything. He has had a grade two bleed in his brain, which is not a terrible concern to the doctors. (Head bleeds go from grades one to four, four being of serious concern.) Grade two is at the point where they just want to keep their eye on it, and with Monday's head ultrasound, there was improvement. It was still at a grade two, but definitely improved, and the doctor was very encouraged.

We feel very blessed by his progress. For one so tiny, he is accomplishing such great milestones. The nurses call him a little super-man. There remains ahead of us a long road yet, but we are encouraged by his fighting strength.

Thank you all for your thoughts and your prayers. We love our tiny little super-man!

Look how tiny he is!