Literally. Every three hours around the clock, Little Bird has what's known in the NICU as care times. These are the moments when we get to change her diaper, take her temperature, and basically interact with her hand to hand. These are also the times of day that we shoot for in terms of arriving to visit. No sooner did we walk into the unit yesterday did Little Bird's nurse begin to describe to us the nuclear fallout of a diaper change we just so happened to have missed. We've never been so grateful to arrive late. I suppose these things are to be expected, as she's now eating her goal amount of 18cc's at each feeding. She was in the midst of enjoying her half ounce when she spotted us standing next to her. Her eyes locked in on Dad, and she gazed at him for a few minutes before falling into a comfortable catnap.
They did readjust her vent settings, but for the better this time. It's lower, and she now controls her machine. When we put our ears to the hand terminals, we could hear her breathing. Her doctor was already gone for the day, but her nurse told us that when she listened, she couldn't hear the murmur herself. I don't want to speak too soon, but this could mean that the PDA has closed, or at least is even smaller now. She had a deset while were there, and had a little trouble catching it. But it was likely caused by her vent tube needing some suction. After she caught her breath, her respirations became rapid, and I remembered a little technique that her nurses sometimes use that ended up helping her. She loves having her head touched. I cupped my hand and placed it on her crown. And just like that, she was calm again. A positive for both of us. For the first time, I felt like I was physically able to do something for her.
This Tuesday will be a month. I can't believe that much time has already passed by. That we've made it this far. Being in the NICU is like going thru some sort of time warp. Minutes seem to pass by like seconds, and I can spend hours standing next to her bed just simply watching her be. It's strangely comforting to be there. I'm always anxious on the ride down. I can't wait to see her, even though we can never anticipate what we're going to walk into. The relief of being with her sets in, and by the time we're half way home, it feels as if we can sleep for days. Though she's not with us yet, we rest as is she were, always keeping a conscious awareness that the telephone can ring at any moment. I have to remind myself that it won't always be like this. But normal still sounds like such a foreign and far away place.
One of her nurses from last week's rotation stopped by to chat. We were talking about Little Bird's improvement over the past seven days and she feels she may be ready for kangaroo care any minute now. I'm counting the seconds. She's down to only one I.V. line, which they are readying to take out within the next day or two. As long as she withstands today's switch of her caffeine being delivered orally rather than intravenously. Time to start preparing.
I've mentioned before that we aren't big believers of organized religion, though we do believe in spirituality itself. I don't deny that there is a God, or something bigger beyond this life. But I have to admit, the past eight days have changed my mind in regards to how much I used to doubt. Nine days ago, Little Bird needed a lot of help. Help beyond the medical sense. So many prayers have been said for her. The collective voice of so many people must have touched God's ear. Eight days ago, she was blessed with water that millions believe has the ability to cure the sick. Seven days ago, we all began to see the changes in her progress once again. Changes for the better. When so much began to stack up against her. It's hard to fathom, but even harder to deny. Something is pulling for this child to get well. Something beyond science. Something beyond love. I realize that all is not said and done, not by a long shot. And I realize that we don't have the final say. But even one good day for her means everything to us. Just to see her comfortable. Just to be able to touch her. Just to have her with us. One more good day. It's all we ask for.
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