I often think of NICU infants as little soldiers.  They are exposed to so many stressors so early in life and by the time they leave the unit, at less than a year old, often have more “battle” scars than an adult can collect in a lifetime.  Every “little” procedure or treatment done to our patients affects them in a huge way.   And there are so many things:  IV sticks, lab draws, catheters, noxious noise stimulation, PICC lines, chest tubes, breathing tubes, feeding tubes, surgeries, exposure to harmful substances, blood transfusions, lumbar punctures, bladder stints.  There’s a tube for every hole and if there’s not a hole, we sometimes must make one.

 

Often, a NICU baby’s survival is bought at the price of pain and discomfort.  No wonder many of them grow into children with abnormal pain responses.   Every day, decisions are made in the NICU, risks and benefits are weighed, sometimes the lesser of 2 harms is chosen,  consequences are considered.  Not only is NICU life difficult for an infant, but also the family.  It takes incredible strength and perseverance on the part of parents.

I knew of Paisley Benson before I really got to know her and her family.  I had not yet taken care of her when I was on call one night and assigned to the East side of our football field- sized unit. When “on call,” each NNP takes charge of a side, East or West, for the night.  What struck me most readily about Paisley’s mom was her obvious dedication to her daughter.  She was that “ideal” parent:  often present, ready with questions, sharing information with the NICU team, very involved with Paisley’s care.  I was impressed with her ability to cope with such complex issues as the ones that Paisley had.  Even more striking was what I later learned: Paisley’s problems were a complete surprise to her  family.   I’ve had the privilege to know Paisley and her family outside of the NICU.  She is one of the happiest babies I’ve known!  It’s amazing the benefits love and support will reap!  Here is Paisley’s NICU story, told by her mom, Kristie, and posted with permission.

 

“Paisley was born October 1, 2015, emergency C-section and we were unaware of any health issues that were present.  However, within 10 minutes of birth, we were told she had an imperforate anus.  Her kidneys were enlarged, placing pressure on her lungs, causing the right lung to collapse.  She was transferred to Blair E. Batson Children’s hospital NICU and placed on a ventilator.   She also had a feeding tube, a drain, and a catheter. It was one of the  scariest days of our lives.  We had to place our little girl’s life into the hands of people we didn’t even know and pray that God watch over her and the doctors.

 

At less than 12 hours old, Paisley was taken to surgery to get a colostomy.   She received 2 PICC lines, numerous IV sticks, and had to be catheterized every 4 hours.  According to statistics, only 1 in 5,000 babies recieve the diagnosis that Paisley has.   The nurses were amazing and now we consider them and the doctors to be like family.   I had to learn a lot while I was there, so I would be able to properly care for Paisley at home and I felt very overwhelmed at times.  The NICU team was always there to help when I thought it was too much.  The doctors, nurses, and nurse practitioners made our stay much easier.

 

Paisley stayed in the NICU for 1 month, not long for many babies, but it felt like forever to us.  I cried every day going to and from the hospital. Remaining strong was difficult for my husband and I, but it was necessary- we have a 5 year old and Hunter didn’t understand why he couldn’t see his sister.

 

Although we are home now,  there are still difficult things to deal with, times that we feel overwhelmed, but I know God has a plan for our family.   The NICU was only the beginning of our journey.  Paisley will need more surgeries, so we still have a long road ahead of us, but the surgeries will be performed here in Jackson at Batson Children’s Hospital.  She continues to need multiple check ups and clinic visits.  I love sharing our story, helping others to realize that lives can change in an instant.   My family and I are forever grateful for the outstanding care Paisley has received from the team of doctors and nurses at Batson.”

 

 

The only comforting thought I had when I left work one evening in September, about 5 years ago was: “Thank goodness Dr Hersey is on call tonight!  Lord, work through him and everyone else for this family, if it be Your will.  And I really hope it is.”  (NICU nurses pray for any and everything- IVs to get, Foleys to slip in, pneumothoraces not to blow, bowels not  to perforate. )  Dr. Hersey is not only incredible when it comes to managing premies, especially ones on ventilators, but he is also great at teaching the complicated stuff.   He’s the only neonatologist I know that can explain the Alveolar gas equation, perform a Hapkido move, then finish with the corniest joke you’ve ever heard- and all in under 5 minutes.

That afternoon, though, no jokes were made as we stood at Eli’s bedside on the East side of the unit and wrapped him, vent tubing, IV lines, EKG leads in a blanket and placed him in his mom’s arms to hold, which is what we do when there is nothing left to do.  We had tried everything to keep him alive and he just wasn’t responding.   This is one of the most frustrating parts of medicine- the helpless feeling of trying “everything”- and it not being enough.   Elijah’s oxygen saturations were low, his vent settings high, and driving into work the next morning, I prepared myself to see the empty bed spot that I was afraid would be there waiting, a testament to my fear of the worst.  Fortunately, Ive learned, in 16 years of NICU nursing, that God is able and babies are very resilient.

With Elijah’s family’s permission, I share his amazing story, told in his mother’s words.  Im so thankful to know this beautiful family.

 

“The story of Elijah starts with me going into labor early one Wednesday morning in September.  There was no pain, just a worry, so the trip to the doctor resulted in a stay at the hospital in Meridian, MS.  There, attempts were made to stop the birth but his arrival was happening, so the doctor and my husband made the decision to send me to University of Mississippi Medical Center.  The ride over was painful and long, with every bump causing contractions.

Once at UMMC, the prognosis was that the baby was coming, and on Friday morning, Elijah finally made his way into the world, tiny and fragile at 1 pound, 6 ounces.  This began our 4 month, life-changing journey in the NICU.  We watched our 23 week, 6 day gestational age infant start life in an incubator, with leads, wires, and breathing machines to keep him alive.  Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

We learned so much from the team of doctors and nurses who took excellent care of Elijah, including the best and most disheartening possible outcomes.  We prayed for the best and looked to the hospital team for some form of reassurance.  However, there came a night where the doctor met us around his incubator and told us that all that could be done had been done and prayer was our only hope.  For the first and possibly the last time, we were allowed to hold our baby in our arms.

Tears rolled down both mine and my husband’s faces.  After what seemed a few short minutes, we placed him back into the incubator, but stayed there, holding Elijah’s hand, and prayed.  After midnight, we reluctantly went back to our RV to try to get some rest.  We received no phone calls the rest of the night, which built hope in us.  We found Elijah, back to normal when we came into the NICU that next morning!  The only medicine needed was prayer and love.  It was a true miracle from God.  

After many weeks, several surgeries, and one terribly hard night, Elijah was allowed to go home in January.  We were just as scared as when he was born, and we were prepared for anything.  Now, Elijah is a 5 year old with more energy than we can keep up with.  He’s still tiny by comparison with most children his age, but he is very intelligent, caring, loving, and joyful.  He loves his family, baby sister, and all the animals we have.  I wouldn’t change what we went through for anything because it made us stronger and made us realize how precious life really is.”

 

 

Today was not unlike any other day when I’m off and Vonnie is home.  We make it a joint effort to awaken our children and coax them into getting dressed for school.  I love these days!  They gather around the heater in the living room and sleepily pull on clothes while Vonnie sits on the couch watching Fox News.  Then it’s brush hair, brush teeth (most of the time), eat breakfast and off to school for the both of them.  Today, Vonnie takes them and returns in less than about 5 minutes, no kidding, because we live right next door to the elementary school.  Man, I’m gonna miss that convenience when the kids move to junior high!

Now is mommy and daddy time.  I love this time on some mornings when Vonnie doesn’t have to be somewhere early and we can spend time together, just us.  This morning was one of those mornings.  Quiet, I thought.  Nice.   I’ll go to the gym,  run some errands, my mind was ticking off items on a “To-Do” list.

Now, here I must explain that Vonnie and I, at times, feel the need to test each other’s defense skills.  At any given moment, one of us gives the other “that look”- the one that’s playful and mischievous -and we “put up our dukes” and proceed to spar, hands only, which really means we swing at each other, seeing who can land more hits.   They are not really hits or slaps, more like taps.  We are usually laughing the whole time.

This morning, Vonnie was the challenger.   I rallied, of course, putting up my hands and readying myself.  Good practice for taekwondo, I thought.  (I’m always looking to improve that skill set) We began our banter of taps, Vonnie taking some hits, landing others.  He decided to throw in a kick.  I blocked it.    “Oh, we are kicking now?!”  My turn.  I waited for an opening and didn’t have to wait long.  He was too concerned with blocking his head, that his torso was left unprotected and I welcomed the opportunity to practice my twist kick.  Both of us bobbing and weaving, I moved toward his left side, turned my hip at what I thought was just the right angle and  BAM!  I hit him with my best attempt at a twist kick.

Vonnie: “Ow!”  I saw his eyes get a little bigger and he laughed.  I was pleasantly surprised I landed it so well.  “You are a gym rat and a taekwondo junkie.”    He said this to me , as I collapsed in a fit of laughter.   Then he grabbed me up, wrapped his arms around me in a big hug, as he always does after our sparring matches, and said I love you.

And all was right in the world.

Before I gain a nasty reputation as one of those perform-or-die cheer moms, let me state that  I in no way coerced Gia into competing while recovering from the flu.  She made the decision to compete, flu or no flu.

I picked Gia up early from school on Wednesday, not surprised to get the call that she was running fever.  She’d had a cough and scratchy throat.  With cheer performance on Thursday and competition on Saturday, missing these events was all her 10 year old mind could think about.  She was worried about letting down her team.

She was obsessed with monitoring her temperature, and when the Tylenol or Ibuprofen was in full effect and the fever under control, she declared she felt “fantastic,”  insisting that she could not miss cheer competition because her team needed her.  What courage! Honestly, she did not seem like a child who would later test flu- positive.  And she had been vaccinated.  She took a long nap Wednesday afternoon and I noticed dark , purplish circles forming beneath her eyes.

I kept her home on Thursday, having to miss work since Vonnie was out of town at a conference.  Gia reached for the thermometer, first thing.  I knew she had fever before she ever pulled the probe away from her mouth.  The rapid, frantic beeping of the thermometer warned us that the number was higher than the normal range.  Her temp was 101.1.  She stared, incredulous.  I watched disbelief morph into anger, then her little face crumpled and she looked at me with tears already spilling down freckled cheeks.

“I asked God to make me better last night!  I prayed to him to help me and I’m still sick!  He didn’t listen to me!”

Her disappointment was heart-breaking.  And I felt bad for God also.  She hardly gave Him enough time to work!  I tried to explain that God does listen but does not always provide answers immediately or in the way we expect.

This was the day we learned she had the flu.  I expected drama and major tears upon her hearing the verdict of the test.  None.  Gia was eerily quiet as we left the pediatrician’s office, speaking only after we were walking through the parking lot to the vehicle.

“Well, that was a surprise.”

Me:  “What’s that, sweetheart?”  I was furiously texting Vonnie to tell him the news, my mind racing through all the people I needed to message:  mom, my boss,  Gia’s teachers and coaches.

Gia:  “I didn’t think I had the flu.  I feel fantastic.  I don’t feel sick.”

I guess she didn’t remember the vomiting and 2 and a half hour nap  (read: coma) from the day before.  Kids amaze me with their resilience!   Obviously, no virus was gonna squash her determination to compete!

We bought medications:  Tamiflu and Augmentin (an antibiotic because bacterial pneumonia’s the most common secondary complication of having the flu), and we headed home to rest and medicate.  She insisted that she would compete  on Saturday, saying she would do anything at all to make it happen.  Her dedication is remarkable!

Friday

Gia slept until 9:15, almost 11 hours.

Me:  “How ya feelin’ this morning?”  The purple circles were less purple today.

Gia: ” Ready to compete.  I can’t wait til tomorrow!  Hand me that thermometer, please mom?

I touched her forehead and knew immediately that she was fever-free.  I told her this but gave her the thermometer anyway.  Her temp was 97.4!  I will never forget the look of joy and excitement on her face that morning.  All was right again in her little world.  It made me happy to see her happy.  She grinned at me and said (somewhat triumphantly), ” I’m not missing a competition- unless I have Ebola!”

I pray it doesn’t come to that!   But if it did, Ive no doubt Gia’s fortitude would carry her through the situation with aplomb.  I’m so very thankful for her strength and courage, her kind and caring coaches and teammates.  Gia, along with her team, pulled out a great performance and placed first in the competition!  Gia: 1, flu virus: 0.

“Courage is the spirit which enables one to face challenges with confidence and resolution.”

6th tenet of taekwondo

#spirit #cheer #tkd

“Time is money,”  people say, as if money is more important than time.  Wrong!  Time is TIME!  Once upon a time, I spent my time keeping spotlessly clean, glorious order in my house. Then, I had children and all of my order was swept away.  For the last 10 years, Ive had to come to terms with mismatched socks, messes of every kind, and even  *GULP*  leaving my bed unmade.  Pretty radical stuff!  Those are what folks call “little things” and they should not be minded.  The problem is, my brain minded them, but I realized that minding these “little things”  distracted me from the big, important things- like Gia giving me a make -over or Jack building me a Lego tower.  And that’s how motherhood re-aligned my priorities. I would advise everyone to enjoy each moment that is good, savor it, even. That sounds so cliché, even though Im as serious as it gets as I type this.   I say so because it is the truth and I have found this truth in my 30’s.   Seems like I had more time to do more stuff when I was in my 20’s, sans kiddos or even when the kids were small and I was not driving them to afterschool activities 4-5 times per week. That’s why I was able to write more, watch more TV, just relax more, put together presentations for work. Nowadays, we are on the move constantly. Some weeks, it seems we are living out of our SUV,-there ‘s so many clothes and snacks in there that we could survive at least the first week of the Zombie Apocalypse, maybe even longer.   Am I the only one who would welcome an alien abduction right now? The relief of not scrambling from place to place to make practices and events, while trying to find time to yourself and spouse is pretty irresistible.   How do I deal? I relish the moments in between the hectic schedules. I put the phone, pen, book down when Gia or Jack launches into a story about his/her day. Arrgh! That’s so difficult to do sometimes! But it’s super important! I make a conscious effort to be present and to make them see my presence, my interest.   In a world where everything is a competition and we are daily barraged with images/stories of people who do more, look great, eat healthy, make more money, have more fame, are funny, smart, it is easy to compare oneself to the best people and feel as though you don’t measure up. Ive come to realize that finding peace means not being weighted down by my shortcomings in comparison to others, but, rather, celebrating the things I do well and working on making them better.  This all sounds really great, but there are moments of weakness, when I get off track, wander down someone else’s road, pondering why Im not more like him or her.   The truth is, there is a lot to be said for minding one’s own business, instead of everyone elses’. When it comes to priorities, schedules, how I spend time and with whom I spend it, what activities we choose as a family- these things are MY business. What other people do in their lives is theirs and comparing oneself to another, well, you might as well compare apples to oranges.   No one family is exactly like another so if you’re trying to be like that super family (the one where everyone seems perfect), don’t bother. Trust me,   no family is flawless! (They feed their kids cereal for supper 3 times per week, just like the rest of us). Create your own unique life and experience it fully. And when life becomes just too much, hand that business over to God.     Handle the business of YOUR life and try very hard not to compare yourself, but look at all the great things YOU do and take joy. Take joy. Have peace. Find happiness.

Its tournament time again!  Jack and I will compete- he is 8 years old and flits through life and TKD effortlessly- without so much as a thought to give to tournament (or so it appears), until he is faced with the actual event. Oh, he enjoys taekwondo – he just does not stress over it, or anything else, really. He works on his form and his kicks and then gets distracted and runs off to play.  Last night, at 9 PM (2 days before tournament) he wanted to show me his form and practice sparring.   Of course, we did!  I love it when he initiates practice and, in fact, encourage it as often as possible.

I, on the other hand, adopt a rigorous plan to improve, especially the week of the event, putting in extra practice and class time, keeping my diet in check, getting plenty of sleep –and my performance? Honestly, it’s not great, compared to my more athletic, more experienced counterparts. That’s real. I feel like I work really hard for little return.

Why, then, do I compete? I try (constantly and consciously ) to seek the positive- it keeps me going and gives me hope. The positive is that I am better than I was almost 3 years ago and that many greats have come from being a part of this martial art community. I compete because I really REALLY believe that the experience will make me better, I want to practice performing in a stressful, tense situation, and the experience gives me knowledge and understanding of this aspect of taekwondo.  Surely, it makes for a better assistant on the instructor team as well.

See, I was not what anyone could call “athletic.” In fact, I’m an adolescent in the ways of athletics. Im in the process of “becoming.” As far as athleticism goes, I haven’t even hit puberty! But I’m changing every day and I’m happy (most of the time) with the progress. Nothing validates progress so well as when someone ELSE notices your progress. When one of Gia’s cheer friends’ mom assumed I cheered because I am in “great shape” or a patient’s family says I look too young to be a nurse, or the mom in Dick’s Sporting Goods mistakes me for an employee because I look “young and athletic,” I admit that at those times, I’m thankful for genetics and dedication to (mostly) healthy eating and regular exercise.

As a child, I was content to keep to myself, immersed in a book, writing poetry or short stories, anything to escape.  I dabbled in gymnastics and dance intermittently but nothing structured or competitive. At 34 years old, I walked onto the taekwondo scene…err…mat with zero athletic prowess. I’m quite sure it showed. But I loved the environment, the people, the training and workouts. Taekwondo under Mr and Mrs Dear’s tutelage is competitive, positive, and fair. If only I had discovered this jewel years ago!

The Ever-Looming Question: What if I Fail?

There really is no fail, but there are times I disappoint myself.  That’s a tough pill to swallow.  This past summer, at the world tournament, was one of those times.  Despite extra practice, eating especially healthy in the few weeks prior, and making sure to get plenty of rest and exercise, my  form competition was awful! I made simple mistakes.  By far, it was my worst performance at tournament.

I was devastated! I choked back tears of frustration as I watched everyone else do their form with less intensity, worse stances, and less precision, I thought, than me.  I fought to keep my composure, because: 1. I’m no spoiled-sport-cry-baby.  Fair is fair, and 2. I had to be a good example to Jack and Gia, who were watching.  The painful part was facing my instructors.

So, why compete again?  I deserve to give myself a chance to improve and I owe it to my instructors, who invest time and effort in my training.  I gained perspective at that tournament, with a little reality and humility thrown in.   But a disappointment such as this ? It doesn’t keep me from trying again- and I wanted to prove that to myself, that I’m no punk.  I can overcome disappointment.

A Silver…well, Bronze Lining

The 2014 World’s was not a complete bust for me.  I always enjoy seeing others (especially Jack) compete and this year I had decided to try board breaks for the first time at tournament.  What had I to lose?  Only experience to gain, and I definitely needed that!  I surprised myself by smashing 3 out of 5 boards- it felt good and I was happy.  I received a bronze (medal).

Facing the Music

As mentioned, I dreaded having to face my instructors, medal-less (in forms and sparring). I felt on the verge of a serious flood. Unfortunately, things like this are inevitable and so, shortly after the competition was over, I saw them.  My heart raced, my face burned, I wanted to disappear, but didn’t.    I never thanked Mr. Dear for choosing a crowded Subway restaurant as the place to ask how it went, but I’m glad he did.  No way was I gonna cry amongst a slew of people ordering meatball subs and chips!  Ridiculous!  It was a blessing and much less painful than anticipated.  Does this mean I’m a survivor?!  I like to think so.

Well, week #2 of house painting is drawing to a close and I’m feeling like I may need to buy a stocking to hang for Leo (the painter) just in case he is still toiling away at this house, come Christmas. 
He is just a little past half way done and please don’t mistake this for complaining- I just want my house back and the freedom to walk around it in tank top and skivvies til past 9 AM. I am very thankful- Leo is THE most particular, OCD-ish painter I’ve ever met and his work reflects such. He works alone and prefers it that way.
He is quiet, constantly working while at the house but a great conversationist, when engaged: we’ve talked mma, Lil Wayne, kids, boxing, our love for eating hot wings and just life, in general, the perfect ratio of silence :conversation, that being about 60:40 for me, on an average day, with someone not close to me.
All in all, the experience has been less tortuous than expected and I’m looking forward to restoring order (well physical order) back to our house.
The kids certainly have enjoyed it- each afternoon, on return from school, they run inside to see what progress has been made and proceed to interrogate Leo for info. He is living their dream- they would LOVE to get into that paint and “just roll one wall, mama!!”
So it’s Saturday and Leo will be here soon. I gotta get my yoga in before he comes, or else relegate myself to the bedroom so as not to subject him to such an atrocity as me making a (earnest and worthy) attempt at the Downward Facing Dog pose. 
Happy Saturday!