Thursday, June 25, 2009

What a day...

Today is my son's 12th birthday. He was born at 9:04 in the morning by emergency c-section after my Dr. noticed some d-cel's in his heart rate. What that meant, well, didn't really know at the time. All I knew was that they said I had to have an emergency c-section or he might not make it. So, after forms signed, family members called, poor hubby turning green when asked if he was going to go into the delivery room and my dr. saying if he went in and fainted, he was just going to stay on the floor, I was wheeled into the emergency delivery room, pumped full of more anesthetic into my walking epidural and my little baby boy was born.

Only parents who have gone through this really understand, but after he was born, it was quiet, too quiet. After an eternity of a few seconds, he finally made a cry, then a cough, then another cry and then some more coughs.

I was only 36 weeks pregnant when my blood pressure started to go up, I was ordered to rest over the next 5 days, and I did, but I was ordered back to the hospital for monitoring. My blood pressure didn't go down very much, so my dr. told me when he came by at lunch time, I wasn't leaving without my baby. Well, I did.

See, he was born at 36 1/2 weeks which is when most baby boy lungs start to develop in utero and my little Nathan's lungs weren't quite ready. Guess my body knew what it was doing since during 21 hours of pitocin induced labor, I only dilated to a 1. That's why he didn't have the lusty cry that most healthy newborns have, he was having trouble breathing.

So, after the delivery nurse allowed me a quick look at my newborn son, off they went to the nursery and I spent the next 45 minutes surrounded by the surgical staff, anaesthesiologist, and my dr. and his associate, all working on me, but I felt totally alone, wondering what was going on with my baby. My hubby couldn't be with me because of his hospital phobia, but at least he was able to be outside the nursery, because he got to tell me what happened later.

I had been in the recovery room, my body tilted head up at about a 30 degree angle, when my hubby and a dr. came in. William held my hand while the pediatrician told me my son was having trouble breathing and they were going to have to put him on a ventilator and Teddy Bear Air (otherwise known as CareFlight) my newborn son to another hospital because the hospital I was at didn't have an NICU ward.

My little 7 lbs. 12 oz. boy didn't want to have the ventilator tube shoved down his esophagus, so he proceeded to yank it out 2 times before they came to me and asked for permission to tranquilize him. Of course I said yes and off they went to get back to work on my son.

After a few more hours, I was finally put into a room and my husband kept going back and forth giving me updates on how our son was doing. Finally, after another eternity it seems, the flight crew brought my son into my room. He had a tube coming out of the umbilical cord stump, band-aids on his heals where they drew blood for the pku(?) test, a ventilator coming out of his mouth and taped to his face, and he was still, just so still for a newborn, and only wearing a diaper, spread eagle in a rolling incubator.

They explained that he was going to be fine. He was going to a hospital about 30 minutes away, by car, faster of course by helicopter, and they were associated with Cooks Children's Hospital. They said that Cooks had been full but the hospital he was going to only had a few intensive care babies, so my son would get lots of attention which was better then an overloaded NICU.

I didn't say much, I really couldn't because I was just staring at my poor little boy and I started getting all choked up and silent tears started to fall. The lady in the flight crew noticed and asked if I had even had a chance to hold my son yet. I shook my head no and they decided they had to figure out a way for me to at least touch Nathan.

After fiddling with the hospital bed and maneuvering me as best they could, since I had just had major surgery, they lowered one side of the incubator and I was finally able to put my finger in his little hand and feel my son's fingers close around mine.

Needless to say, today is a wonderful, yet bittersweet day for me. Joyous that my son was born and that he ended up being just fine, yet bittersweet remembering how difficult the rest of the day, and the next several days were until I was finally out of the hospital and could go see my son at the other hospital.

Nine days after my son was born, he was able to come home, on the 4th of July. That's the day I truly celebrate, the day my little boy came finally came home!

Now, on to some other things, I'm glad my son is as young as he is because he doesn't really know who Farrah Fawcett is and he doesn't know about Michael Jackson and all the hoopla surrounding his life. Hopefully, he'll only get to know about Michael Jackson's music and the good things he did and not all the controversy, since now my son's special day will always be associated with the death of the King of Pop and the death of one of Charlie's Angel.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Update on kitty status

First, thanks to everyone for their thoughts and prayers about the little black kitty we found on our porch, but I wanted everyone to know that he passed last night.

When Oscar and I found him on our front porch, he was totally covered with fleas, the bad ones out here that they call "sand fleas". There wasn't an inch on him that didn't have fleas. So, of course he had a flea bath and we gave him food and water, but he didn't want to eat. We then gave him fluids through a bottle that night and throughout the day yesterday, but I think he was just to anemic from all the fleas and probably had a bad case of worms and his poor little heart just couldn't take the shock.

Sometimes I wonder why things like this happen, where you try your best and it's just not enough. But I think that he was sent our way so that in his short life, the poor little stray received some love and care even if it was for just a few days. As the saying goes, some people (or animals) come into your life, make footprints (or pawprints) on our hearts, and we are never the same.

Monday, June 22, 2009

All my pets!

I know that by now you've seen my sweet Grandma kitty, Jadzia. Well, she's not really a Granny kitty since she was spayed, but we call het our Granny kitty since she's gonna be 15 years old this year. She hasn't always had all that gray abound her face, she used to be a pretty dark calico, many years ago.

And I think I've introduced you to Joy, she's William's Marbled Bengal kitten. In this picture she's probably 6 months old, but size wise, she's larger and heavier then Jadzia, who of course is a full grown domestic cat. You can't really see all Joy's pretty markings in this picture, but I love the cute expression on her face, plus you can see her slightly rounded ears. To get a better idea of what Bengal Cats look like, you can go HERE.

Just note that Joy is still a kitten and hasn't gotten all here stripes and colors yet. Kind of like how Dalmations don't get their spots until they get a few months old. She has gotten darker in the last few months, but I don't think she's going to quite as dark as the kittens on the website.

And of course everyone knows about Oscar Mayer Hill, my mini weenie dog. Don't you just love his little Patriotic outfit! Too bad he didn't, now his hat is being proudly displayed on my concrete dachsund that I got to go on my front porch. Being that the statue is of a regular size dachsun and not a mini, it's bigger than Oscar is. I'll have to get a picture of the two of them together for comparison.

Now we also seem to end up with some extra's running around all the time. Like the two little ones below. Sonya's calling them Dora and Diego. Their momma had them in our storage shed and they've gotten very used to us. I'm sure us feeding them and making sure they have a big bowl of water hasn't contributed to that one bit. Yeah, right.

I'll admit, we're suckers for cute little critters. Guess that's why we couldn't stand to see those, previously blogged about, poor baby foxes just lying around in the heat, knowing that if they didn't get some help from someone, they weren't going to make it. Haven't seen the game warden lately so, don't know if they did make it, but we at least have the peace of mind knowing that we at least tried to help.

And on that note, on to our latest little poor pitiful critter. Oscar and I were doing our walk about the house and we were greeted at the front porch by a little black baby kitten. He was absolutlely COVERED in fleas and is very skinny, but at least after his bath he's flea free, and hopefully after a few good meals, he won't be so skinny. But we just have to see how he does tonight. When he starts to get a little better, we'll try to get him in to our vet for a check up when we take our other latest addition in, Stubbie.

She's just like the little orange kittens above, except she's missing about 1/2 her tail, hence the name Stubbie. She's a very sweet, very chubbie kitten that Oscar loves to try and play with, but he does get a little rough with her, so he has supervised visits with her until she gets a little bigger. Joy on the other hand adores her and treats her like she's a well loved little sister. In other words, they beat up on each other most of the time and play the rest of the time.

Now add in the bunny Bridget, that Oscar remembers we have every now and then and tortures us with his constant barking, until we distract him and he forgets about her again for a few days, and we've ended up with quite a motley crew of critters running around and in the house.

So, keep our little black foundling in your thoughts and prayers, and my sanity too for that matter and we'll enjoy our little slice of chaos out here in Rankin. Until later.

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