Grr

Holding your infant son on your chest, watching his face turn a sick, ash-color, while two nurses you've never seen before rush in front of you, wiggling him vigorously, encouraging him to breathe…is not fun. Just in case anyone wants to try it. Not fun.
Another day of 'normal preemie behavior'. He truly is my little Superman. The challenge, for me, lately, is trying not to perceive that the NICU Doctors are treating Clark as a science experiment.

So, if you're a daily reader of the Chronicles, you might already know, the Docs upped his feeds to a whopping 24ccs. Great. We want him to grow. Yet, it seems as though every time they feed him, he starts to desaturate…even brady. Yesterday was an intense episode. I was getting pissed. Like, isn't it common sense not to over-stuff yourself? To not give such a large feeding into a stomach the size of Clark's fist? I flashed back to the times I decided to binge on a medium pepperoni pizza all by myself…then, shortly after, writhing in over-stuffed agony on my couch, cursing my gluttony and definitely felt like holding my breath and passing out would take away the pain.
Soooo, why do the equivalent to a preemie?! Not just a preemie…my preemie.

(Sigh)

Alright. I cried. I raged. I dealt. It's over. I reminded myself that just like you and I are completely different in biology, like you're allergic to shellfish and I am not, every baby is unique. Clark's situation is different from every baby that comes into the NICU and must be treated as such. It's obvious, the Docs are doing what they feel is in Clark's best interest. They even reduced Clark's feeds a bit, recognizing that 24ccs might be too much for him right now. He does digest it all, but perhaps a full tummy combined with a need to stool, and an uncomfy position, equals bradys and desats. I understand it's all part of figuring out the best recipe for Clark to grow.

There was a year or so when, for some reason, I became terrified of flying. I would obsess: "How do these things stay up here?!" Gripping the side of my too-narrow-even-for-me airplane seat, imagining a situation where the aircraft would suddenly snap in half and I would plummet into the arctic air. Then, one day I finally realized, those were just silly nightmares interfering with my daydreams. I made a decision that after every bit of turbulence, no matter how severe, if the Flight Attendants weren't worried…I wasn't worried.

I look at the nurses faces…if they're not concerned…I'm not concerned. As long as they're not wearing frowns or looks of confusion…I'm fine.

Clark had is little eyes tested today. "All looks normal. Will check again in two weeks."

Happy Six Weeks Clark!