The Saga Continues ...

Okay, where were we? Oh, yes. Baby is here, haven't seen him. Sidenote: There were no pictures attached to yesterday's blog because at that point in the story, I hadn't even seen him yet. What makes you think you were going to get to? Anyway, get ready. This is where it gets good...

I looked up at The Man and cried. "He's not breathing, is he?"

"He'll be just fine. He's fine."

"No, he's not! He's not breathing!"

That was the longest 2 - 3 minutes of my life. And then we heard it. One little, tiny newborn baby cry. The sweetest sound I've ever heard. And I cried some more. A couple more minutes of waiting while they cleaned him up, and then there he was, being placed in my arms with all the nurses reassuring me. "Here he is, mom! He's beautiful!"

I held him for what seemed like only seconds before he was gone again. They were taking him into the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit). They let us know where and why they were going (he scored a 1 on the APGAR test), and asked if Daddy wanted to go, too. He immediately turned to me. "Do you want me to go with him or stay with you?"

"I want you with me." Then a second thought. "No, go with him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, go with him. I want you to see what's happening. And I want you to tell me everything. Go and make sure he's okay."

"All right. I'll be back soon and let you know how he's doing."

Hugs and kisses and then they were gone. So much of the mid-morning and afternoon is a blur to me, I don't even know how long he was gone. But eventually he was back, and with pictures and video. We looked and watched together and talked about how good he looked, and how he looked like our Devil Child. The nurse told me I could go visit him as soon as I was up and feeling better. I got up to go to the bathroom, but knew I wasn't up for walking around the halls. But I wasn't waiting. We asked for a wheelchair so I could go see him.

And there he was, lying in his little bed in just a diaper with his little heater on, sleeping away. He was a doll. We were told we couldn't hold him, but we could touch him. He was having trouble keeping his temperature up, so he needed to stay under the heater. And they were waiting to hear from the doctor whether we would be bottle feeding him or feeding him through an IV. I was surprised to hear that he wasn't given anything to eat yet. It was somewhere around 1:00 in the afternoon already. We stayed by his side, took more pictures, and talked to his nurse about how they were going to care for him. I got sick and threw up in the trash can there, and we decided it was time for me to get back to bed. We would visit again later.

After some rest and a couple more visits, we were told he was having trouble keeping anything down. The doctor approved bottle feeding, but there were two failed attempts before they finally got him to keep it down. And then we were told we could come back at 8:00 that night and feed him ourselves. I wasn't allowed to nurse, but I was able to bottle feed him myself. He's a sleepy little guy, but we were able to get his bottle down and hold him for a few minutes before we had to put him back in his incubator. One more feeding at 11:00, and then I went to bed.

I felt great in the morning. A little sore, mostly my back (arrgg), but I was feeling better than I had after my two previous deliveries. I was even skipping pain meds. It felt too good to finally be alert and awake. Then I started pumping so I could get my milk in, and those uterus contractions started. Wow! Is it just me, or do those things intensify with each baby? I asked for some pain meds. After what I went through yesterday, I certainly didn't want to feel any more contractions. That day went by much like the day before; feedings and visits every three hours, with lots of phone calls and a few personal visits in between. We were constantly waiting to hear news of his release from the NICU into my recovery room. They updated us about every 4 -6 hours, and each time it was the same news. They felt they needed to watch him a little longer.

Another doctor from my doctor's office stopped by to check on me that evening, and I told him I was doing great. I felt great, the baby was doing good, all is well. He told me I was good to go home if I wanted to, but that they didn't feel it was right to send moms home without their babies, so if I wanted to stay with him, they would approve my stay for as long as the baby had to be here. As much as I would have loved to be in my own bed and at home with my family, I wasn't about to leave him there. So we stayed. Earlier on we had hopes of going home Friday morning, but as Thursday slipped away, we realized he was going to need to be released from the NICU into my recovery room first, and then, after some time, he would be released to go home. Friday wasn't looking too promising anymore.

And then I got the fabulous phone call from his nurse at about 11:00 pm Thursday night. The pediatrician had stopped by again and reviewed everything, and approved his release into my room that night, if I wanted. If I wanted? Of course I wanted!!! I'm now wondering if they seriously ever have moms go through that and then say, "Oh, no, that's okay. You can keep him for the night. I"ll get him in the morning." I cleaned up my room like I was expecting a guest I wanted to impress, and I sat in my bed anxiously awaiting his arrival. I called The Man and my parents to let them know the good news, and that we would be coming home in the morning.

By 11:15 I was getting more and more anxious, and I paged the nurse. "Hi. I was told they were brining in my baby to me tonight. Why aren't they here yet?"

"I'm not sure, let me check. Oh, wait. Here they are. They'll be in in just one minute."

Yeah! He was coming! And then the door opened, and they wheeled him in. After they left, I held him and watched him sleep. I nursed him for the first time (he did great!), and I watched him sleep some more. He was beautiful. He was perfect. And he was mine for keeps. I was completely and perfectly happy. He slept on a pillow and in my arms all night. He only fussed when I wasn't touching him. He definitely knows when I'm there and when I'm not. And I love it.

In the morning The Man brought the girls by to see their new baby brother for the first time. They were so cute with him. They both just love him to death. And they get so excited when he does anything. Any noise, a quick smile, a little squirm, and they giggle and say, "Did you see that, mom? He likes me!" We spent the day taking turns holding him and waiting around for the doctors to let us leave. At around 4:00 we were being wheeled out of there and into the car for our first ride as a family of five. Miss Priss now sits in the very back seat (which she loves and thinks is a major priviledge), while our Devil Child sits behind the passenger seat in the middle row and the baby behind the driver. I know, he's supposed to be in the middle, but we figured seating him right next to Devil Child would put him in more bodily danger than a side seat.

Twenty minutes later, we were home, safe and sound. Back to real life, but a new life for me, as a mother of three. How grateful I am that my Heavenly Father entrusts me with the care of these little ones, so perfect and fragile. Gosh, I hope I don't ruin him.

THE END

(No, we didnt' cut her hair, it's just tucked back so it doesn't get him in the face.)

(Grandma loves the babies!)