Little Bird spent the past six days resting, and today she decided that it was time to play. When we got to the unit, she was snoozing. But she heard us talking to her nurse and that quickly, her eyes popped open. Both feet pointed straight up in the air, and she began to bat her hands around as if she was waving at us. I'd like to think she was. She was showing us her new I.V. line, in her left arm. She kept grasping for her ear, and I think she wanted to tell us that her scalp line was removed last night. She's such a show off.
She had her last dose of Indocin yesterday afternoon. This morning's follow up echocardiogram revealed that the PDA isn't completely closed, but it is smaller. Doc H. doesn't want to attempt a third round of the meds. If it was going to help completely, it would have by now. I agree. Because she's still on the ventilator, we're going to wait and see what her body does and how it responds to repairing it on it's own. She had a deset late last night, a few this morning, and one this afternoon. They did another vent pressure adjustment, and a follow up blood gas at five o' clock. The results weren't what we were expecting, they were lower than they should have been. Which means the feeds she was about to begin again at 6pm didn't happen. They won't restart them until they know that the PDA isn't disrupting her ability to breathe. So she'll have more labs tomorrow, and if those come back decent, she can manjia once again.
Speaking of eating, today, she weighs two pounds, five ounces. No, really. She actually does! A weight gain of eight ounces. That's half a pound! Some of this is fluid build up, because it's all she's been getting for the past seven days. But some of it is also all her. They tell us to expect her to drop, but I feel a little bit more at ease with that expectation knowing that she now has those few extra ounces on her side. Even if it's just for one day, I'm going to revel in the positives. Every ounce of them.
And speaking of positives, there was noticeable improvement on her last ultrasound. The bleed in her brain is slightly smaller. A side effect of the Indocin. It's almost like she had to have the PDA in order to heal the hemorrhage. A weird medical trade off. At the very least, there are options available to treat her heart, even if we may not like them. Her brain has to heal on it's own. So far, it looks like it might be.
MFH also blessed Little Bird with holy water from the grotto at Our Lady of Apparitions in Lourdes, France. It's believed that there have been a total of eighteen sightings of The Virgin Mary here, the Mother of all mothers. A gift from her Pop to coincide with everyone's prayers. After seeing what we saw in her today, I have to believe that it's helping. Something is guiding her. Someone is protecting her. I know that now.
We're starting to understand what they mean by comparing the entire experience of the NICU to a roller coaster ride. Though we've been here before, it was nothing like this. We've literally had to forget everything we thought we knew about parenting a neonate. Every baby, every experience is different. And hope comes in so many forms. In the profiles on the wall in the waiting area. Other babies, some just as small, some even smaller. All now thriving. In the family, who walked out of that unit with their graduate this afternoon. Though we wished it was us, we still couldn't help but feel their happiness, too. In friends, who are anxiously anticipating the births of their children, some greeting their newborns for the first time during the last three weeks. I am so excited for them, and can't wait to meet their new arrivals, see their photos and hear their stories. In Little Bird. She surprises us every day, and gives us gifts of her opening her eyes, and squeezing our fingers. Every single minute with her is a tiny gift. It's hope. We couldn't wish for anything more.
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