House

Well, we're out of the hospital. Back at our house. I would say we're back home, but it doesn't feel like one right now. It's actually a little bit crazy how empty, how not-quite-complete the house feels without Robbie in it. How can it be missing something that was never here.

Clearly, he was here when I was carrying him, but it feels like I should look around and SEE him.

The house is trashed. I mean, just trashed. The dog was pretty much by himself for 5 days. (He has the sunroom, garage, and a doggy door to the backyard. He got fed & watered daily, but that was it.) Apparently he was bored. He knocked over a plan in the sunroom, broke his food bowl, tracked mud in and out.

The box of maternity clothes I ordered only 9 days ago is sitting by the door.

The new DVR sent to replace a defective one is on the ottomon.

The bin where we keep our mail is literally over flowing.

David did the dishes one night when he came home to get some stuff just so they weren't growing any science experiments while we were gone, but otherwise, the kitchen is covered in stuff.

The fridge is filled with expired food.

David had to wash a set of clothes just to have something to wear to work tomorrow.

While we were in the hospital, it just became this place where we keep stuff. The giant, winding building with the NICU was our home. It is where our heart currently resides.

David is more upset about the house than I am. I think he's afraid people are going to come by and see the mess. Plus he said he felt bad that I was coming home to a messy house (yeah, he's awesome. I know.) I told him that if the house doesn't get cleaned for a month, it isn't the end of the world. But honestly, it bugs me, too. I did a little picking up in the evening, just trying to sort through some things. Our goal for the weekend is to try to get caught up on a bunch of errands. I'm not sure there is going to be enough time in the day to get it all done and visit Robbie, though. And I'm sure you can guess which task will win.

It's times like these that I do sort of wish I had a mom. It seems the sort of thing a mom would do. Come over and clean everything up in an attempt to help out.

I'm actually a little surprised my MIL didn't, but she might feel like she's intruding. Who knows.

Either way, we'll manage. But it does add a bit to the overwhelmed feeling. Like we're already behind and never going to catch up.

I'm sorry if I sound a bit melencholy in the last couple of posts.

Leaving Robbie behind today was hard, but it was also a hard day for him.

At my 2nd NICU visit, I came in and told his nurse I hoped Robbie was being good for her. She's sort of paused and said "Well.....not really." Lots more episodes of not breathing. I pulled back the blanket off his isolette and was troubled. He looked tired. I was actually surprised by how easy it was to see that he was distressed. Before I could say anything, his sweet nurse said out loud "He just looks tired." Indeed.

I sat down and opened his little trap doors and touched his hand. I told him I was sorry that he was having to work so hard and that I was proud of him for doing so well.

The nurse said the doctors were on their way down to see about him. It was probably time to intubate him again.

Two of the docs came down and took a look at him and decided to give me a little more CPAP time, but that if he had a couple more incidents, it was time for the vent.

Again, they seemed to be trying to console me, even though I wasn't upset. I gave them my sit-ups-for-life analogy and said I wasn't upset. They seemed surprised but patted me on the back and told me that was a very good attitude.

They went on to tell me that even 10 years ago, they wouldn't have even TRIED to pull a baby less than 2lbs off a vent. That babies even double Robbie's size often can't come off the vent for very long.

I told Robbie he was already a prodigy.

They left me alone with him for a while. I glanced back and forth from monitors to Robbie approximately 220 times per minute, nudging him to keep him stimulated.

The nurse came back over and was surprised. "Wow. He looks much better already. Robbie, did you just need your mommy to come sit by you a while?" It had seemed to me his color had picked up a bit and he seemed calmer but I thought maybe I was just being wishful. Suddenly I felt really good that I seemed to strengthen him.

Of course, then I welled up with tears- "I wish I could sit by his side 24 hours a day."

I went back to my hospital room to wait for David to get off work. When he got there, we got me ready to discharge. I told him I was looking forward to getting some of my arm bands off. (I had 4- My name tag, an allergy band, a band about the epidural I had, and the one that identifies me as a mommy to a NICU baby.) David held his up (dad of a NICU baby) and said he wasn't taking his off until Robbie comes home.

More tears. Then I made fun of him for being such a sentimental fool. Gosh I love him.

They got us out to the car and David got cranky. I think that he thought that we were being pushed out the door and he hadn't gotten to see Robbie yet. I told him that I thought we should just load up the car, then go back in to see Robbie. That improved his mood a bit.

We walked into the NICU and I said "Hi Robbie" and he promptly stopped breathing again. I nearly fell over getting his door open to nuzzle him. The nurse laughed that he was just trying to mess with my head. Little stinker.

We visited a while, then David opened a door to talk to him and he did the same thing. Robbie has a sick sense of humor.

Robbie's doctor came by and asked how he was doing and the nurse sort of shook her head expressing that he was still being a stinker. He asked if he'd had more incidents and I told him yet.. that's how he greeted both his mommy & daddy.

He told her one or more two incidents, then back to the vent.

We headed home a short time later.

They called just after we got in the door to tell us he was back on the vent. The plan as I know it is to give him another 5-7 days on the vent just to grow and gain some weight.

I'm totally fine with that.

I'm nervous for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is the ultrasound to look for brain bleeds. I mentioned to the nurse that I was a little bit nervous about it and she said usually babies with brain bleeds had some sort of uterine trauma. Since Robby didn't, they were hopeful that he was okay. I hope they're right, but I'm still nervous.

Pray for good results tomorrow.

On that note, I'm heading back to bed. I think the bone-chilled exhaustion I'm experiencing is adding to my sadness. A few more hours of sleep will probably reinvigorate my hope.

--Trish

P.S. Don't be surprised that blog posts slow down a bit. Since seeing Robbie now takes a 45 minute drive each way, it's going to be harder to post. I'll still keep everyone informed, though.