Following our meeting with the surgeons, we were taken to
the Pediatric ICU (PICU).
Can’t lie, the waiting room was pretty ghetto. I mean, it had seen better days, like maybe in the 80s. Poor Chance endured a lot of the night
on the hard uncomfortable chairs in that room, listening to some hill people
talk about shooting someone.
And of course, later, my mother befriended those same hill people. What a sweet lady she is. Back to the post op: We waited there for a bit before we
were called to come see Archer in his shared room. I pumped for the 2nd time, and boy am I
glad that I did. I spent a lot of
that day engorged and on the brink of getting an infection, due to not being
able to nurse my exclusively breastfed baby.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I walked into in
that recovery room. I had
read other people’s blogs, heard other momma’s stories, and knew factually
exactly what I would see.
And in actuality, Archer did not look
too bad. He didn’t have any
visible swelling yet. It was
supposed to peak the evening of post op day 2, but his actually went down
really quickly on post op day 1. Chance and I walked in and see our baby on his
crib bed, coming out of the anesthesia at around 12 o clock, noon. We had already experienced a
foreshadowing to this when he was mildly sedated for the CT scan, which I mentioned in the last post. It was pretty tough. He had been intubated during the
procedure, so his cry was super scratchy and really drawn out. He was in pain. There was a sweet nurse hovered
over him patting him and holding him close trying to comfort him. She later revealed that she
should have known he couldn’t be set down, because when they went to get him
from the OR, the nurse there was holding him. They’d stuck a paci in his dry little mouth, which hung onto
the side of his lip as he attempted to cry. I immediately took that paci out. Archer doesn’t use one, and
it clearly was not doing a stinking thing. His mouth was so dry, you could see the little hairs
on his tongue. He was exhausted
and had tubes attached at both ankles, EKG monitor pieces stuck across his
chest and abdomen, tubes in one wrist, and several tubes in another wrist that
were tightened down to a hard piece of board that spread the length of his
forearm to prevent him from pulling them out. They’d attempted to swaddle his large 16 lb. body in a
receiving blanket, but his feet came out the bottom.
Chance and I patted him and talked to him, but he would open
his eyes for a moment, then just break out in one of his horrific arm shaking,
tomato faced cries. That was the last time he laid on that bed for the next 20
hours, except for 3 diaper changes and a re-swaddle. The nurse told us to go to the bathroom, and then she would
help us pick him up to hold. We
hurried out to the waiting room and told our parents that he was crying and it
was horrible, but we were hurrying to the restroom because we might be in there
a long while. When we came back
in, the nurse was holding and rocking Archer in her arms. I cannot express my
gratitude enough to this sweet nurse for nurturing my son and caring for him
with empathy and love.
Now, my baby is one who needs strongly to be soothed to sleep, even when he’s feeling fine and hasn’t just had a piece of his skull removed. So, the nurse helped me sit in this horrible recliner thing that was a v shape that you just sunk into. That was not effective at all. I sat on the edge of the recliner, which was like a hard piece of wood, and rocked my whole body back and forth. We could have 2 people in the room at a time, so Chance went to get my mom. She came in and stood with me while I stood awkwardly holding my sobbing and screaming baby. I lightly bounced him in my arms to try and get him to go to sleep, and we held his white noise close to his ear while shushing. I would sit down and rock on the end of the chair sporadically, when my back could no longer handle the pain of holding him in the position I was forced to. The other patient in the room was being transferred out, and then came in a cleaning crew. They were banging all around as I was attempting to get sweet Archer to sleep. Then, I kid you not, one of them starts singing. WHAT! The beatles…but it did not sound soothing and lulling. It was unbelievable. We actually gave a half hearted grin and said “this cannot be happening”. Then, just when we felt like we were on TV, a super loud floor polishing machine goes whirring by. MY POOR BABY! He was so tired and in pain, and all these stupid noisy things were going on. The doctor on duty came in and said they would administer morphine if he seemed to be escalating, and my mom quickly let them know “He IS escalating.” He remained on morphine that entire night. A short bit afterwards, we put water in his mouth and on his tongue and he desperately starting sucking on my finger He was so thirsty. I was able to nurse him for just a short bit, before he started crying again. After a while, my boobs were killin’, as it was nearly 6 pm, so I handed Arch to my mom and ran to the waiting room to pump and eat some snacks from my bag. Chance went back to see archer and returned to report that my mom said, “He is sleeping and calmed down now, so don’t feel like you have to rush back because he’s in here crying.” That was a HUGE relief. While those 6 hours seemed to tick by slowly, it also seems so short in hindsight. I remember later looking up and it being 9 pm and thinking, how have we been desperately trying to make archer comfortable for 9 hours!?
Now, my baby is one who needs strongly to be soothed to sleep, even when he’s feeling fine and hasn’t just had a piece of his skull removed. So, the nurse helped me sit in this horrible recliner thing that was a v shape that you just sunk into. That was not effective at all. I sat on the edge of the recliner, which was like a hard piece of wood, and rocked my whole body back and forth. We could have 2 people in the room at a time, so Chance went to get my mom. She came in and stood with me while I stood awkwardly holding my sobbing and screaming baby. I lightly bounced him in my arms to try and get him to go to sleep, and we held his white noise close to his ear while shushing. I would sit down and rock on the end of the chair sporadically, when my back could no longer handle the pain of holding him in the position I was forced to. The other patient in the room was being transferred out, and then came in a cleaning crew. They were banging all around as I was attempting to get sweet Archer to sleep. Then, I kid you not, one of them starts singing. WHAT! The beatles…but it did not sound soothing and lulling. It was unbelievable. We actually gave a half hearted grin and said “this cannot be happening”. Then, just when we felt like we were on TV, a super loud floor polishing machine goes whirring by. MY POOR BABY! He was so tired and in pain, and all these stupid noisy things were going on. The doctor on duty came in and said they would administer morphine if he seemed to be escalating, and my mom quickly let them know “He IS escalating.” He remained on morphine that entire night. A short bit afterwards, we put water in his mouth and on his tongue and he desperately starting sucking on my finger He was so thirsty. I was able to nurse him for just a short bit, before he started crying again. After a while, my boobs were killin’, as it was nearly 6 pm, so I handed Arch to my mom and ran to the waiting room to pump and eat some snacks from my bag. Chance went back to see archer and returned to report that my mom said, “He is sleeping and calmed down now, so don’t feel like you have to rush back because he’s in here crying.” That was a HUGE relief. While those 6 hours seemed to tick by slowly, it also seems so short in hindsight. I remember later looking up and it being 9 pm and thinking, how have we been desperately trying to make archer comfortable for 9 hours!?
Chance had successfully tracked down just the right people
to bring in a rocking chair for us, and that was when things finally began to
calm down. We transferred to
the rocking chair around 10 I believe. I rocked him there for a while until,
again, I HAD to go pump. My mom
took archer for a while, and then we swapped again. At this time, we were able to wet his mouth again, and
get him to nurse a full
session. Praise God! It was so nice to see him eating. The
doctor said we could begin oxycodone orally, since he was nursing, but I
declined and asked to continue the morphine. It was quite a bit of medicine to give orally, despite it
having a longer life in his system.
He needed rest, and I knew that would just amp him up. During all of this, Chance was such a trooper. He wanted to
be by Archer’s side, but he wanted to do what was best and most supportive for
the baby and me. His sacrificial nature that day will not be quickly
forgotten. I know that must
have been very hard for him to not feel like he was tangibly helping. My mom’s strikingly similar body shape
and demeanor as myself made the transition back and forth easy for Archer. It was much like just being held by his
mommy. Chance came in and
slept in the horrible, hard recliner for a couple of hours, while I rocked. It was nearing 2 a.m. and I was hoping
to have my mom come and take a shift, so that I could get an hour or so of
sleep. She came in and roused
Chance, so he returned to the waiting room and I took the horrible, hard
recliner. My mom stayed up all
night long, and never got a nap. She rubbed my neck, while I stood in pain
holding my baby in a way that all the wires and tubes wouldn’t be pulling or
crunched. Most of all, though, she
held our little baby and rocked him, so that he could get as much rest as
possible for maximum healing throughout that night. I cannot thank her enough for her sacrifice that night. I never doubted she would do so, and I
couldn’t have done it without her.
There was a nurse shift earlier in the evening, and our 2nd
nurse was a little colder than the first (who was just the best!). She kept coming in and tinkering around
on the machines and making things beep, while administering more morphine and
checking his levels of things. It wasn’t her fault, but it kept rousing poor
Archer, and we had to work very hard to make sure he didn’t escalate back into
a cry. His swelling had definitely
started, but since he wasn’t laying down flat, it all swelled out the back side
of his head. It looked super long, and you could no longer see the deep dip in
his skull where the fused suture had been holding down tight. If he had been laying down on his
back, we would have likely seen more swelling up front, in his eyes and cheeks.
That was a very, very long night.
I would not wish that experience on any mommy ever. I know many moms said their babies just
slept post op, but mine did not.
He needed rest and did not know how to get it on his own.