37 days!
37 days from the time my wife’s water broke, on the Fourth of July, until our 5+ pound baby was finally able to come home. He wasn’t due until 8/30 and we had no reason to believe this third baby would come any earlier than his older brothers (36 and 38 weeks). But early he was and the past month was one of the hardest we’ve ever experienced as a family.
We were visiting family in VT when my wife (Peg) suddenly gave me a look of panic that stopped me in my tracks. I thought I had done or said something wrong but it turned out it was her water breaking at just under 32 weeks. We didn’t panic. She got herself situated in the bathroom while I got the kids situated, called the in-laws to get them home, and hurried to pack stuff so we’d be prepared at the hospital. We kissed the kids goodbye not knowing what awaited us at the hospital.
The UVM medical center emergency room is out of this world. On the way we envisioned a number of burn victims from fire works (it was 7/4) but didn’t have time to inspect the clientele as we were busy getting through security. Thankfully a staff member realized my wife was in labor so she could skip the metal detector…I was less lucky. We were quickly screened and brought to Labor and Delivery where we had a beautiful view of the lake but more importantly confirmed Peg was in labor. We weighed our options with the Drs who thought we could safely drive ourselves to Boston but our receiving hospital (MGH) couldn’t recommend we attempt it. She received the antibiotics to delay labor, the steroids to expedite lung development, and we received a list of hospitals between Burlington and Boston in the event labor progressed and we needed to make an emergency stop. All I could think about was delivering our baby somewhere along 89 in VT or NH which would have been a disaster. Back to the in-laws house to say good bye to everyone (including the older boys) and off we sped back to Boston.
The drive was mostly smooth sailing with the exception of a batch of white out rain near Barre, VT. We couldn’t see the car in front of us for a stretch and I was white knuckled enough driving with a wife in labor. There was no sweeter feeling as checking off each hospital on our list as we got closer to Boston. Our biggest concern was road closures in the city given it was the Fourth of July and the fireworks were 3 hours away. Google delivered us and I dropped Peg off at the front door before parking the car and racing up to Labor and Delivery on the 14th floor.
Turns out this happens often and women end up in an antepartum unit where they’re closely monitored and not able to leave the hospital. Peg’s water broke just before 32 weeks and the goal was to keep her pregnant until 34 weeks. The thinking is, at that gestational age the risks of an infection outweigh the growth benefits of any more time in the womb. So I packed her clothes, bought her a book of NY Times crossword puzzles, and picked up some favorite foods from TJs to last what we hoped would be two weeks.
The best part (for me) was the roommates! Each had their own stories to unpack from the single mom with a boyfriend who got told not to come to the birth, to the mother who claimed to know enough about medicine that she didn’t need to be there, or to the mother of twins who was in and out before visiting hours even came. A tv show, movie, or documentary could be compelling as people try to live with what little privacy a curtain provides. We would cuddle in the hospital bed and try our best to pretend we were the only ones in the room but there were constant reminders of the roommates. We did manage to watch most of Ted Lasso together which was enjoyable and helped pass the time.
Had this been our first pregnancy a two week stay at MGH would have been more “manageable.” But having two kids and a dog at home meant very few opportunities to visit Peg. Thankfully all three were still in VT for the first few days. When Grandma brought them to Brookline she stayed for a couple days. The next week was a struggle! I’ve been a stay at home parent for four years but that doesn’t prepare you for being a single parent with a dog for over a week. Luckily Morgan was scheduled for day camp that week so we had scheduled walks and some structure to the days. The hardest part was we couldn’t find a single baby sitter which meant I was unable to visit Peg during that stretch. But my mom arrived the following week and the boys went off to Maine for a few days and I was able to visit Peg again and be there for the birth.
On 7/19 we hit the 34 week mark and it was on to the induction. I got to the hospital on the early side and the day dragged on as we waited for a room. We kept getting told they were having a busy day on Labor & Delivery and that we were next on the list for an open room. We finally got the call around 5 and were moved to coincidentally the same room our first son was born in. The view of Cambridge and the Charles is remarkable from that side of the building. We were sure to snap a pic of the sunset that evening and settled in for what looked likely to be a long night.
They had used Pitocin for our first two pregnancies and this one would be no different. Pitocin starts and progresses contractions to speed up labor. It was necessary for our first baby as he was 36 weeks when Peg’s water broke and they wanted him out quickly. My wife experienced pre-eclampsia with the second pregnancy so Pitocin was once again necessary. It wasn’t my wife’s plan for this little guy as labor can progress quicker than is comfortable and the side effects post labor can be disorienting while you’re trying to bond with your new baby. It was unfortunately necessary this time too given she was 34 weeks. She looked at me when they connected the IV and said, “I’m in control.” Our mantra for the evening was born and every time she was having a bad contraction or things were feeling difficult we would say together “I am in control.” It seemed to help and like a champ Peg used Nitrous Oxide as her only pain management for the third time. She was in control. The other major difference was a desire to be able to stand which she didn’t get for her second delivery. The flexibility exercises and standing really helped to the point she was dilating and the nurse said, “I don’t want you giving birth to this baby on the floor,” and she was as quick as she could moved back into the bed.
The nurse’s “friends” appeared from nowhere which was good because around 6am the whole thing came to a head. She was fully dilated, ready to push, and he was out and with us in no time. According to the doctor, Morrison practically flew into their arms weighing a monstrous 5lbs and 1oz which we all agreed wasn’t that small for a 34 week old baby. I chose not to cut the cord as I was crying from the pure joy of our ordeal finally being over.
The preemie team and Pediatrician descended upon him to inspect and assess what he needed for care. The Pedi assured me he looked very healthy for his age and even pointed out his testicles had descended which was unusual for that age. They conferred and finally told me he’d be brought to Special Care which is the step down from the NICU but still the appropriate level of care for him given his age. The following hour would be one of the most tumultuous of my life as his health appeared to steadily decline and my wife was wheeled away for an operation.
My wife had a history of a sticky placenta and this one was no different. Removing it requires anesthesia, which Peg hadn’t needed while delivering Morrison but was unavoidable now. I remembered this feeling of fear as I said goodbye to Peg but this time I didn’t want to stay in the delivery room as our son was being wheeled down to Special Care. I followed the bassinet and found it amusing they wheeled the kid whose initials are MM to the O side of the room. Hospitals can’t charge as much for Special Care as they can the NICU which means the former tends to have cozier conditions. This room had 4 babies at varying stages from bassinet only to full on isolette which we would eventually come to accept as our son’s temporary home. Everything seemed normal when we got there and I was feeling optimistic that maybe a few days would be enough for Morrison. I went to check on Peg’s status but the nurse was with her in surgery. I debated waiting but opted to return to our baby. When I got there they had made the decision to deliver low flow oxygen through a tube in his nose. He was not a fan of the tube just like his grandfather and they were constantly replacing and taping it. I returned to Peg’s room but she was still not back from surgery and it was getting to be the point where it seemed like someone would have found me by now had something gone wrong. Within 10 minutes they were rolling her back into the room and a massive sense of relief overcame me to see her again. We caught up on Morrison’s status and I went back down to check on him. This time the NP was delivering CPAP as his lungs weren’t expanding enough to deliver oxygen and I nearly hit the floor at the sight. They suggested I take a seat which I did to try and comprehend what was happening to our baby. I returned to get Peg and bring her down to Morrison, hoping this time there wouldn’t be something new for the nurses to explain. Once she was settled we made the decision that I would drive with Gammie to Maine to pickup the older two boys from Grandma. We decided Gammie should drive since I had not slept as Peg had just be in labor overnight. We got back to Brookline and settled the boys in for the night so I could spend it in the hospital with Peg and Morrison. She was discharged the next day she was finally able to go home to our family except one.
Leaving the hospital without your newborn child has got to be one of the worst feelings of our lives. Having brought two home already there was this sense of abandonment or loss as we got in the car and consoled each other. Getting home was easy, being home must have felt strange for Peg after so much time away. We made a plan to go visit Morrison after the older kids were in bed and packed some things for the car ride. As we got in the car I noticed a missed call from a 617 number and immediately called it back. The caller ID said MGH and we would spend the next few minutes frantically getting different nurses until we finally got some answers. Morrison needed surgery and we needed to get there ASAP if we wanted to see him before he went to the OR.
The drive to MGH would be straight forward for a Saturday night had we not been frantic with fear, guilt, and all the emotions of a parent having just received the call. I dropped Peg off at the door and called grand mothers to let them know what limited info we had at the moment. His nurse had discovered his belly was hard and distended. He likely had a perforation of his intestines and they needed to operate to discover and repair the hole. We were informed that the chief of pediatric surgery was being called in to perform the operation. It should only be a few hours. The anesthesiologist had an accent and it wasn’t long before he noticed my rugby shirt which of course became the topic of conversation. I would have preferred to focus on our son but so it goes. Off he went and we were escorted to what would become his room in the NICU. There Peg could get some sleep and I sat up waiting for news on our son.
The wait was grueling. The Drs had made his operation sound routine but for us it was a life or death situation for our two day old. I remember my brain thinking how was this my fault and why did we think we should have another kid. That said I was reassured he was in the best place for a baby with these conditions and that he was in “good hands.” Around 2am the anesthesiologist was the first to appear with the good news that everything was ok. I woke Peg and he was shortly after wheeled in with what felt like 40 Drs and nurses. The chief found us among the chaos to let us know the operation was successful, the hole was significantly bigger than they had anticipated, and they had removed a section of his intestines to make the repair more secure. They didn’t think it would have a long term impact on his health and there would just be some regular followup to ensure everything is healing. Relief! Once things had calmed down I said goodbye to Peg so someone could be home when the older kids woke up to let them know what had happened while they slept.
The next week in the NICU was a blur. He wouldn’t be allowed to eat for a few days to a week. The intubation tube could come out within a day but he would still need oxygen. We could hold him from time to time and had 24/7 access but it still felt like the nurses were raising our baby. Which was for the best. We came up with a visiting schedule that coincided with Peg’s pumping schedule and the kid’s schedules. My mother left that following Wednesday and Peg’s mother arrived seamlessly that afternoon. That was around the time we started to feed him very small amounts of milk which seemed like a huge milestone for us. The NICU proved to be a rather uneventful experience and we even got a few family visits in.
At the end of that week we had a family meeting where it was clear that Morrison was progressing and could move back to Special Care. One step closer to home! We left as they were just waiting on a bed. That night he was moved to bed M :) While we were excited for the move it meant we would have less accommodations. We still had 24/7 access but what we wanted was for him to come home. Visiting the hospital was beginning to wear on us, more so for Peg, as the weeks were beginning to turn into a month. He would need to be out of the isolette, regulate his body temperature, and able to drink 90% of his milk from a bottle. Anything not finished from a bottle would be fed through a tube in his nose. The next few days would be critical to getting him home based on advice we had received.
A friend who had a 28 week baby a few years ago was advising us through the process from the 4th. His biggest piece of advice was being there and managing the feedings. If we didn’t take the initiative to ensure he drank his entire bottle in the allotted 30 minutes. We (I) took this advice to heart and felt like I needed to do whatever it took to get our son home. Any feeding that only went 20-30% in his mouth felt like a loss as I watched the rest go through a tube. One feeding was not going well as he started to fall asleep with the bottle in his mouth. I did my best to stir him and get him to take the bottle until a nurse noticed and thought he was rejecting and I was forcing the bottle on him. Her reaction to the situation felt blown out of proportion as she started to throw words around like “aversion” and I handed him over to tube feed. I didn’t realize the extent to which I had triggered the nurse until a social worker came in to scold me about our son developing an aversion. They really tried to reinforce that he would develop at his own pace and a switch would flip. I wasn’t impressed and we started to feel like maybe he would be better at another hospital and called our Pediatrician for her advice. She reassured us he was in good hands and broke the news that there would be no transfer. We took a day off from visiting and regrouped to trust and be patient with the process.
The next few days he showed steady progress and we were beginning to feel optimistic! He was getting to 80% and soon the feeding tube would come out to test if he could reach 100%. He passed the test and before we knew it we received the call that he was ready to come home. We dropped Morgan off at robot camp, Malcolm with some close friends, and we were on our way to pickup Morrison who was finally getting discharged…37 days later.
