Five weeks...a look back. Emotions and Pictures.

Can you believe it? Two weeks we've been home. Five since birth. I just can not mentally catch up on the time scale. I was looking through some pictures today...don't think I have shared some of these. I should warn you, some are very heart tugging...I had some tears in reliving the ordeal. But they are emotions I know I should feel and process. So here they are-emotions and pictures. Above all-it is what it is-and what happened was true and I need to allow it to be exactly as it was. It's part of Ollies story. Here's a bittersweet look at our journey. I'm going to do some space filler first, for those who may want to skip the photos, (they are pretty graphic-heart stopping) can move onto another website for now.
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I will never forget the weight of that body on my chest. The color he was, is beyond description. Sitting in the birthing pool. He was just limp. Not even bent legs and arms that you see here. Entire body the color of the head in this picture. No movement. His little arm just rolled down my chest and sunk under the water until I scooped it up and held in next to his body. Watching as CPR was done to this tiny being, right there on my chest. My tiny being. She removed his mask, and wiped blood from his nose. Maybe it was from the birth canal...in my head lingered "maybe not."...Had we not felt his cord pulsing or heard his heart through stethoscope...I would have never guessed him even to be alive. The shock, at 5 minutes post birth as we called 9-1-1.

Right here I stopped. I held my breath for a month. I watched this unfold. I detached...it was not what we had rehearsed or discussed. Kaleem had told me a story in the ICU: It's like we plan a trip to France she said. We learn a little of the language so we can stutter it out. We plan for dining out and etiquette and clothing. We learn of places we want to see and go explore. We buy clothes for the appropriate weather. We pack and we plan. We lay things out, we bring the camera...we get excited for FRANCE! We buy tickets and pay travel agents, we tag our luggage and get on the plane. And we fly a long time, watch an in flight movie, nap and eat, and hold back our excitement to be finally almost to France. And then we land...in ITALY! These photos are the moment we stepped off the plane...we didn't even know if we would have a baby in 24 hours. He could still die. These could have been all the world would ever see of Baby Ollie.

Sometimes babies come out a little blue and need a little help. We had expected that-a variation of normal. Reality was hitting-this was no variation of normal. This was the beginning of Oliver's story...our journey was starting a new chapter.


Wash up for Italy. Note the step stool under the sinks for the siblings to reach. We later learned the sink in the back ran warm water, the one in the front ran the longest, while the second shut off rather quickly. The paper towel holders all had minds of their own. Everything was motion censored, and you always looked a fool waving your hands-sometimes soapy- in front of the detectors for more water or paper towels. The lockers you can get a lock for at the nurses desk. Good place for your stuff since they don't accommodate family-or parents. ... This is where you meet the locals and talk about the land and the other visitors.

We are told he will live. Death is not a threat anymore. No promises, just life. Three hour nap followed by 10 hours of labor and delivery-and another 12 hours in hospital with no sleep. My brother is holding me up. In my arms are the blankets Ollie had laid on briefly during his trip from home to hospital. They smell of him. I can't put them down. In my hand are pics of him the hospital gave me. I've seen him twice. Can't touch. So can not hold. But, I just want to hold him and kiss him and make all this go away. I really really want to be in France. I'm sore, tired and drained. I want my baby in my arms again. But I must push on.

Emily from the child life dept. comes and educates the big brothers on life in ICU. She brings big brother shirts and pics she has cut out in star shapes of baby Ollie...one for each brother. We should celebrate-we did have our baby. Even if it was Italy. We keep it as cheery as we all can while the kids are around. On our faces you can see that inside we are all aching...for more, for less, for what could have been and what will be.

We are big brothers after all!




A day or two later...

So happy the day mama gets to hold Ollie for the first time. He still hasn't opened his eyes. But mama's heart is soaring and so is everyone elses in the waiting room! Ryan is really getting to bond with his daddy. We spent the first three days in hospital 24/7 in a room they let us borrow. Then we began nightly commutes. I spent 12-20 hours a day by his bedside. And this day, I got to hold him!





The eyes open and tube feedings begin. I'll never forget the day they handed him to me and he cracked open his eyes just a slit. He saw me and began to cry. It was as if he said to me "oh my God, mama, it's you...I have been through so much..." and told me how awful it was for him before he was born. I just held him and rocked and rocked and told him how sorry I was that it was so hard, and how much I loved and wanted him, how much we all did. Every day he looked more and more...and I told him more and more. We talked about France and what it would have been like to see France. We talked of Italy and how much it was different than what we had planned. We talked of what we loved and we talked of stuff we didn't like. Mostly, we talked of home-for that's where we would be someday-not in France or Italy.

Daddy and Ryan take turns. Ollie clutches Ryans finger...even with his eyes closed. Ryan falls in love with this little being that he has talked to and hugged and kissed through my belly for months. He's sad he didn't witness the birth but he's happy to be holding Ollie now. He talks of home and snuggling and helping. I can't wait for that day. I feel like we are starting to live in Italy. I sorta long for France-but I really long for home.

My oldest and my youngest. First time. Bittersweet. All the brothers have now met and bonded. It did them good to see him with only a feeding tube. He's just gaining weight and healing bruises we tell them. He'll be home soon we say. Not much longer we promise. We don't tell them the EEG and MRI results we wait for. If he will be "damaged" or not. So much goes unsaid from adult to child. So much is said adult to adult through a mere glance of eyes or change of position. We have learned new languages. Secret languages...and medical languages. We can all talk of testing, tubing, and medications as if we are doctors ourselves.

We kangaroo care alot...skin to skin... I cannot describe-I can't even begin to describe the joy of holding and feeding my baby. Feeling his little hand-not limp...clutch my chest like this.
The feeding tube goes from mouth to nose and often changes position. We watch as the outter face and top of forehead seem to clear of bruising first. The eyes seem to have been impacted the most...as far as discoloration goes.

He just nursed...is that...a...smile.....? I just noticed!
Peeping eyes watch loveys when mama's taking a break...sucking on paci...loving his new crib and graduation to B room. still puffy. Still bruised. But better every day.
Mama's back from break. More cuddles, more milky...more healing. We rock and rock. Rock and Rock...for hours on end...bleeding into days and starting weeks....we've been here too long now.

My brother! Our stay is almost over in ICU...Will and Ryan come on a weekend that Jacob and Bradley are on visitation. We decide to camp out Oliver. I have already stayed overnight in the parking lot in my van. Ollie is exclusively nursing at this point. Nurses call my cell phone in the van and I run up from the parking lot to feed him on demand. No more scheduled feedings...yet they won't pull the tube..."just in case." No where to accommodate a nursing mother. So we do our best.
Ryan in Will's truck. Our family camp for Fri and Sat night. Sun and Mon and Tue I am on my own again and we come home Wed.
To the very spot on the corner of the bed that Ollie was laid after he left my arms in the water. The first "dry land" he experienced. The spot he laid lifeless while EMT's continued CPR and rushed him away to Sutter Roseville. The very spot he laid on the three baby blankets warmed by a heating pad...the ones that smelled of him....that I couldn't wash, or put down. This time in that spot...he cries, he's pink, he's mad at the car seat...and he's home.

Today....Fiveish weeks later....
He still holds a hand up to play with the hair on the back of his head. He's done this from day one, and his hair shows evidence he did it in womb. He does this on both sides. He sighs big. It comforts him. He's laying on the blanket with trains on it from the hospital.
He lays with his big brother....my oldest and youngest....
He watches cartoons with Ryan...holding his finger...just like on the day they met. He plays with his hair. Both in their undies...brothers.

And...I decide that France was a dream, Italy was alright...but something about our living room floor...it's the best place in the world today. The simple things ya know? (and yeah, that's the same pile of unfolded laundry, but who cares? ...lol)