Poop Saves the Day

Dude!

Just...duuude!

Last night bunch-a-sucked! I was sooo depressed. Clark was in such a restless mood. I felt a lot of, anxiousness, nervous energy...and I was partially responsible.

Preemies can easily be overstimulated. Even the simplest of things, talking, singing, touching...if he's not in the mood, can totally wear him out. He seemed extremely fatigued and I'm pretty sure my particular attention was no help.

As soon as I exit the elevator and make that plodding walk through the hospital parking lot, the tractor beam between he and I stretches thinner, and as our distance grows, I become more lethargic and sad. I just wanna go home and curl up in bed to make tomorrow come faster. I tell you folks, I truly believe that we, the human race, are capable of communicating on a cellular level...like a phone. Not to be all hippy-dippy, but it's possible. The connection is unbridled, it's there...you just have to clap your hands three times and believe!
I can, without a doubt, tell how Clark is feeling. I can tell when he's enjoying my singing. I can tell when he doesn't want to be touched. I can tell when he's chilled out and happy. I can tell when he's pissed. It's actually pretty awesome!

Today, Christy and I were chomping at the bit to get to the hospital. Could...not...wait...to get here. And here I sit, still. Been here since 10am and so far, at 7:10pm, have no desire to leave. We declared that we both truly love coming to the hospital to sit by Clark's Giraffe-side (Oh yeah, FYI, he is actually NOT in an isolette, like I kept mentioning but in an isolette-looking device called a Giraffe).

This afternoon, I had left for an audition and came back an hour later to find Christy, with a pleading look on her face, as if she just witnessed a car accident. I'll get it out of the way, Clark is fine...you can all exhale and continue reading! Shortly before I walked in, he had a pretty bad bradycardia episode. Between Christy and the nurse, it was described to me that he was out for an uncomfortably long time. His levels dropped rapidly! His color turned a bizarre ash-yellow. The nurses had to furiously provide suction, in between pumping air into his chest with a hand held CPR device. Thank the goddess, he came back! After they removed a blob of goo that had accumulated from the secretions at the back of this throat. This goo caused the obstruction and the little dude couldn't breathe.

Ya. Fuckin' scary. (Sorry Bailey, if you're reading this.)

It's all good. After hearing and processing all that 'fun' info, comforting Christy while trying not to re-live the event, and seeing Clark just chillin' like nothing happened...this "low" quickly passed. Though not without an enormous residual footprint of minor devastation.
Christy went off to pump and I got to participate in Clark's rounds. Taking his temperature, changing his diaper...which is when I was met with the most uplifting moment of the day...he had pooped! I got to clean a GLOB of poop off his tiny little bum! Ya, I know, I know...but this moment made me giddy as a school boy! First, I was astounded at the color and texture. (TMI alert!!!) Remember dilophosaurous 'spit' from Jurassic Park?





Yeah, it's kinda like that.

Anyway...cleaning up his mess, watching him pee all over hisself (15 year old Clark, from the future, if you're reading this...sorry), was exactly the pick me up I needed! Once he was all situated with a new diaper and a new position...he's been snug like a bug in a rug the rest of the day. Clearly the removal of mucous and the release of his bowels, transformed fidgety, anxious, upset Clark, into cozy, rosy, and chill Clark!

He even got hisself a new hat!



Thanks Mary-Ellen! He loves it!!!