February 12, 2008 – Breath of life

Jenn-Jen and I arrived at the hospital this morning with the hopes that there would be no surprises waiting to blindside us.  Last night I left the hospital with cautious optimism that Katelynn and Daria’s condition would continue to improve, even if it means a little each day.  When we arrived at Daria’s side, we were pleased to see that all of the peripheral IV lines were gone.  As there are so many lines and leads attached to each of the girls, removing one more connection is like taking off a heavy chain that has kept my daughters tied down to their incubators.  We felt the very same feeling yesterday morning when Daria’s IV catheter in her scalp was removed.

Since Daria has been taken off her Dobutamine drip, her blood pressure has come down back to normal levels and they have resumed her breast milk feedings at one milliliter per hour.  My main concern was whether an elevation would create undue pressure near her brain ventricles, but her neonatologist informed me that he would be concerned only if Daria’s blood pressure was extremely high for a longer period of time.  I cannot help but be concerned with any issues that may aggravate her brain hemorrhage.  While the head ultrasounds for both girls were peformed early in the morning, we do not expect to have results until tomorrow. 

We were glad to see that Daria’s respiratory signs remained fairly stable, and the oxygen desaturations seem to be occurring less often.  They do have her ventilator settings up a little, in terms of the percentage of oxygen and the rate, or “breaths” the machine takes for her.  I don’t like to see the oxygen levels to be too high, as this can actually cause damage to her developing eyes.  At forty percent, there is not much to be worried about, but I certainly hope this is as high as it will need to go. 

Everything seemed to be quite normal with Katelynn until we received some surprising news.  As Katelynn’s ventilator settings have been set at a bare minimum, the doctor believed that it is time to try taking her off to let her breathe on her own.  It is a strange feeling when you receive news like this.  On the one hand, this was very exciting because removing the ventilator is such a big milestone for extremely premature babies.  On the other hand, over the course of the past fifteen days I had actually grown to accept this breathing contraption almost as a part of my daughters.  Taking Katelynn off the ventilator really amounts to removing the system that has been responsible for keeping her alive throughout her short lifetime.  We had to set our doubts aside and put my faith in the medical staff that have helped our girls beat the odds this far. 

The extubation occurred at 2:30 PM, right before the nurses’ shift change.  Both Katelynn’s nurse and the respiratory therapist highly recommended that Jenn-Jen and I wait outside while they worked on Katelynn.  Apparently, the procedure isn’t the most pleasant thing to watch, and if we stayed, it might be traumatic to see poor Katelynn gag or even vomit when the endotracheal tube is removed.  I wanted to be in there with my little girl, but I also didn’t want to leave Jenn-Jen alone to wonder if everything is moving along without issue.  After a few minutes, the nurse came back to tell us that all went as planned.  We were anxious to get back in for a few minutes before we would have to leave the room for shift change.

Katelynn’s extubation was flawless.  She is now breathing on her own, but has an oxygen tube going to her nostrils to “remind” and help her along if needed.  It was actually a strange sight to see so much of my daughter’s face for the very first time.  She looked even more beautiful than before, and as I mentioned earlier with Daria, one less connection is like one less heavy chain binding Katelynn to the NICU.  Thank you for your unending prayers and praise God for this victory.

Usually Jenn-Jen and I leave the hospital by mid-afternoon to make sure there’s some time to recoup our strength.  Because of the good news with Katelynn, we ended up staying quite a bit later to visit with both girls.  Another big surprise came when the nurse asked Jenn-Jen if she would like to hold Katelynn.  Mind you, there are still at least five different tubes or wires attached to our daughter, but how in the world would we resist?  Jenn-Jen has been dying for this day to come, to be able to hold her daughters in her arms for the very first time.  We wished that we could do the same with Daria, but we know that her time will eventually come too.

After some careful untangling and strategic placement of my wife in a comfortable rocking chair, the nurse gently brought Katelynn into Jenn-Jen’s warm and loving arms.  It was a very tender moment to see mother and child finally close together, but what moved both of us to tears of joy was to hear Katelynn cry.  The ventilator tube keeps the vocal cords from emitting any sound, so we have spent fifteen days in silence, waiting to hear a sound from Katelynn or Daria.  What I heard was exactly what I imagined it would be, soft and a little frail, as you would expect from a newborn.  Katelynn didn’t cry long, but each time she let out that sweet sound, my eyes would start welling up again. 

Thank you, God, for giving us this unforgettable moment of joy.  I look forward to holding my Katelynn in the morning and pray that my Daria will soon be on the same path.