We're okay
So we're in the hospital now, to follow up on my embargoed Thursday post. Skipper is fine. We're here because when we went in to the pediatrician for a checkup on Thursday (which I did at the urging of Tiger's Dad), they decided that Skipper needed to be admitted for monitoring, not because their exam showed anything wrong, but because a 3-day-old blue baby is scary, and apparently newborns can appear very healthy right up until they are almost from an infection. Skipper and I (I get to stay and be fed hospital food because I am her food source) have been here since Thursday night, and we hope to get out tonight if Skipper's various fluids haven't cultured anything scary. They haven't grown anything yet, and she appears to be ridiculously, radiantly healthy, so everyone expects us to escape tonight.
It's been a pretty awful couple of days. Skipper had and drawn and a spinal tap. Cook went with her to The Procedure Room for that, and came back looking grey and shaken, holding a staring Skipper in his arms. She's on a cardiac monitor, and a saturation measuring thingy, so she's tethered to a monitor. She's been getting antibiotics, as a precautionary measure, so she has an IV pluggy thing in her arm, wrapped in a splint and bandages so her arm is like a little club. She whacks herself in the head with it pretty regularly, and I'm afraid she's developing a lifelong hatred of her right arm. She seems pretty unfazed by everything since the spinal tap. She's a really nice baby, actually. Every medical-type person who comes to see her says something like "Oh, she's so little!" and then "Gosh, she's so healthy!" The nurses love her.
I'm exhausted. Between various things being done to Skipper, the horrible, constantly-malfunctioning-and-beeping monitors, basic newborn demands (like wanting to nurse for five hours straight last night, which meant I stayed up for 24 hours straight yesterday), stress, and anxiety about how I'm ever going to catch up with school stuff and the rest of my life, I'm closer to the end of my tether than I think I've ever been. Cook, who has been caring for Dutch, shuttling back and forth to the hospital to be with me and Skipper, and generally holding down the fort, is perhaps less tired but no less stressed.
It's weird being in a hospital when it's pretty clear that Skipper is totally healthy, and we're torturing her unnecessarily. I don't see that we could have not come to the hospital - we needed to take action in case of infection. But we'll be leaving with no positive answers, a big sleep deficit, a bigger medical bill, and the experience of having hurt our brand-new daughter. That's kind of painful.
However, spending two days in a pediatric acute care unit provides a deep appreciation for how minor my problems are. The kid next door, for example, has been howling in abject misery for pretty much two days straight.
So. On the one hand, I'm feeling very sorry for Skipper and the rest of us. Poor us! On the other hand, hey, Skipper doesn't have anything obviously wrong with her! Yay us! The next step is going to be letting go of the whole not-breathing thing, and not spending the rest of our lives worrying about it. This whole hospital horror will help, but it's scary not knowing what happened or why.
I'll post again when we get home. I feel kind of bad about posting this, because I know it's going to totally scare lots of people who care about us. Please don't worry too much, and thanks very much for caring about us!
It's been a pretty awful couple of days. Skipper had and drawn and a spinal tap. Cook went with her to The Procedure Room for that, and came back looking grey and shaken, holding a staring Skipper in his arms. She's on a cardiac monitor, and a saturation measuring thingy, so she's tethered to a monitor. She's been getting antibiotics, as a precautionary measure, so she has an IV pluggy thing in her arm, wrapped in a splint and bandages so her arm is like a little club. She whacks herself in the head with it pretty regularly, and I'm afraid she's developing a lifelong hatred of her right arm. She seems pretty unfazed by everything since the spinal tap. She's a really nice baby, actually. Every medical-type person who comes to see her says something like "Oh, she's so little!" and then "Gosh, she's so healthy!" The nurses love her.
I'm exhausted. Between various things being done to Skipper, the horrible, constantly-malfunctioning-and-beeping monitors, basic newborn demands (like wanting to nurse for five hours straight last night, which meant I stayed up for 24 hours straight yesterday), stress, and anxiety about how I'm ever going to catch up with school stuff and the rest of my life, I'm closer to the end of my tether than I think I've ever been. Cook, who has been caring for Dutch, shuttling back and forth to the hospital to be with me and Skipper, and generally holding down the fort, is perhaps less tired but no less stressed.
It's weird being in a hospital when it's pretty clear that Skipper is totally healthy, and we're torturing her unnecessarily. I don't see that we could have not come to the hospital - we needed to take action in case of infection. But we'll be leaving with no positive answers, a big sleep deficit, a bigger medical bill, and the experience of having hurt our brand-new daughter. That's kind of painful.
However, spending two days in a pediatric acute care unit provides a deep appreciation for how minor my problems are. The kid next door, for example, has been howling in abject misery for pretty much two days straight.
So. On the one hand, I'm feeling very sorry for Skipper and the rest of us. Poor us! On the other hand, hey, Skipper doesn't have anything obviously wrong with her! Yay us! The next step is going to be letting go of the whole not-breathing thing, and not spending the rest of our lives worrying about it. This whole hospital horror will help, but it's scary not knowing what happened or why.
I'll post again when we get home. I feel kind of bad about posting this, because I know it's going to totally scare lots of people who care about us. Please don't worry too much, and thanks very much for caring about us!
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