Today And Everyday

Today, we had a really great day. Mae had clinic, meaning we drove to Children’s and spent the day meeting with therapists, dietitians, pulmonology, ENT and GI doctors. We stay in one room and they come to us. It took about four and a half hours, including a blood draw.

We are almost thru this cold & flu season without a hospitalization, but some of our friends haven’t been as lucky. I got word today that one of our trach friends was admitted to the PICU in respiratory distress. Unfortunately, I hear this news almost everyday in this trach world.

Everyday, I worry about who we’ve been in contact with, who our nurses have been in contact with and who the kid sitting across from us at therapy has been in contact with. I worry if all the hand washing and sanitizing is enough. I worry if Mae coughs one too many times. I worry that one wrong move could send us to the hospital for an extended stay. I’m sure I’m not alone in my worries.

Please, please, don’t leave your house if you are sick. That person you walk past at the store or talk to at work could be parent of a medically fragile child, who worries that any contact with someone who has the common cold or flu, could get us checked into the hospital.

This is what I worry about today and everyday.

Mae’s Arrival

December 29, 2016 was a nice, sunny winter day. My parents were in town for the day and I went to work, thinking I would leave a little early to spend some time with them. Around 8:45, after discovering some blood, I drove myself to hospital, where I was admitted to L&D. After many hours of waiting and a few long ultrasounds, they took me back for an emergency C-Section. I was 25 weeks along.

Mae arrived at 4:52 pm. She weighed 1 pound, 12 ounces and was 12 1/2 inches long. She was tiny and perfect, even with a hundred wires attached to her and a tube & vent helping her breathe.

When she was three days old, a nurse discovered a skin irritation on her right side, thinking it was caused by one of the sensors attached to her. It continued to get worse, it was biopsied and experts around the country were consulted.

The morning of January 11 our doctors at the hospital said Mae would be transferred to Children’s, about an hour away. My husband left work and my mom went back to our house to pack me a bag (putting fresh meat in freezer in the process, I never would have remembered to do that). By 3 pm, we were in the smallest NICU room watching as numerous teams came to look at Mae and her wound. I’m almost certain more then 50 people came in her room that day. Surgery was scheduled for 9 pm that evening. My childhood minister & family friend baptized Mae by phone late that evening, with Justin, sprinkling water on her isolette from a sterile water bullet. The admitting doctor gave Mae a less then 20% chance of surviving. Her surgery was the scariest hours of my life. That surgery included removing two infected ribs and left her chest wall open. Two days later, the surgeons went back in to do another debridement and remove another partial rib. Zygomycosis was the name of her fungal infection and is usually found in cancer patients due to their compromised immune systems. There was no research on how to treat someone as young & tiny as Mae. A course of two anti fungal meds were given for the next five months. She got daily visits from both the surgical & infectious disease teams. She will most likely require additional surgeries as she grows to reconstruct her chest wall.

The next few weeks were long, as all we could do was wait for Mae to grow & heal. March 19, she was extubated for the first time and we got to hear her tiny voice. Due to her long intubation & poor lung development, Mae developed BPD & pulmonary hypertension. After four weeks of no movement on vent settings, one more intubation and an extubation, the decision was made for Mae to get a Trach and g-tube on April 21. Justin & I jumped right in, learning the trach life. The home vent was tried, with no success. One of the doctors described it as going from a BMW to a Ford. Finally, the first week of June, Mae got on the home vent and liked it. We also go to try bottle feeding & breastfeeding for the first time. A care conference was held to discuss the next steps.

The next step was a move back to our hometown to a Rehabilitation Hospital on June 27. Mae was 180 days old. Leaving the NICU was bittersweet, we wanted to leave, but we were leaving an amazing, loving, caring team of nurses, doctors & therapists.

I decided to go home & sleep in my own bed the night of June 29. At 2:17 am, the hospital called us, Mae’s trach had somehow come out and it took 10 minutes of CPR to get her back. We met Mae at the closest ER, where she was awake, just a little miffed at getting an IV in her head. After consulting her doctors at Children’s, Mae went back to her rehab hospital.

Over the next few months, Mae worked so hard during all 3 plus hours of therapy a day. Justin & I were anxious to take our little girl home, but we needed night nursing. Somehow, the stars aligned & prayers were answered in late September; home nursing had been found! Equipment & supplies started arriving.

Finally, on November 1, at 307 days old, Mae got to come home!

Crying in the Car

After a rough night for Mae, today was a good day. She was firmly on #TeamNap and just enjoyed playing with us and with her new Toby Tracheasaurus that arrived. She’s now off in baby dreamland.

Today was also tough emotionally for me. For years, I listened to my hometown radio station do a radioathon for the local children’s hospital. The set people’s stories to songs and play them throughout the day, while asking people to donate money to the hospital. Today was the radioathon here and Mae’s story was featured. I was able to hold it together when they did the taping, but when I heard the final product today, I lost it. Our song was fittingly, Fight Song. You can listen to the song here.

I took the morning and ran long put off errands and heard many of these stories. I’ve heard similar ones before and might have teared up, but today, hearing these stories as a medical mom had me crying in my car driving across town. We spent 10 months, 307 days, inpatient with Mae and got to bring her home. I know way too many moms now that didn’t get that joy of bringing their child home from the hospital.

Tonight, Mae got extra squeezes as I think about a boy & his duck and Judebug, just two of the sweet boys who didn’t get to come home after the last trip to the hospital. I think about them and their amazing momma’s a lot.