Oliver had a busy Sept.

I am not always sleepy and peaceful like this...

 Sometimes I catch really big fish!!

And sometimes I catch really really scary crabs!

I am doing very well right now.... weigh in tomorrow.  I bet I'll be 6 pounds!

Love at it's best!

Oliver's first trip to the Oregon Coast

Homecoming

Oliver took his very first car ride the other day.  Just a mere 80 days from his early summer birth, he is finally where he belongs.  Thank you to everyone of you who has played a role in his life thus far.  We love you all so very much.  Annie and I are very proud and very blessed.  Oliver is home!!

Oliver's update

Today is Oliver's 77th day of life!!!

His mother and father are very proud of their little fighter.

Status
Oliver currently weighs 4 pounds 14 ounces.
He breathes on his own. (that's right...no machines, no tubes...no anything!)
He eats all of his feedings from either a bottle or his momma. (no more feeding tube)
He no longer needs diuretics or iron supplements.
He has battled reflux all his life but finally graduated to a flat bed.

Oliver passed his hearing screening and scored "normal" on his latest brain scan.

Goals:
Oliver has another vision screening next week...this will be number 4.
He poops one his own occasionally, but he needs to become independent of the sepositories. 


Thank you all for the continued prayers...pictures to come!

For Now...

It is fascinating how the purpose for what we do changes over time, even though it might not be our initial intent that it will.  Writing started out for me as a way to work through some difficult emotions during a period of my life when I could think of no other way.  Then, I gradually transformed my words into a style that was telling a story, informing and connecting with the many out there who chose to care so much about Oliver and our family.  In recent days, it has become clear to me that my purpose for writing is no longer identifiable.  I feel that my energy is better directed towards my son, Oliver, who has blessed all of our lives so much throughout his short but influential time here on earth.  Today marks the day where my writing will come to an end.  I am sad, yet at the same time relieved.  There may be an occasional weekly update or picture, but my consistent daily posts will cease…. for now.

Yesterday, I was sitting in the NICU surrounded by nothing but silence.  I had just spent 64 of the last 72 hours next to my only child’s crib, supporting him with my presence, the only way I knew how.  The young warrior had previously received three vaccinations in three straight days, quite a challenge for a child in his relatively difficult situation.  Having not left his side for fear that he would follow suit with the many other preemies who struggle through immunizations, I was exhausted yet reassured.  He handled them like a champ.  The lights surrounding us were off, Oliver’s alarms hadn’t made a sound in quite some time, and as I sat there, a thought suddenly struck me.  “This” particular moment was the first time since June 8^th of this year that I actually “believed”. 

During the past 72 days, my wife and I have witnessed some horrific events as well as experienced some unnerving feelings that will forever be burned deep into my being.  Throughout this seemingly endless period of time, no matter how hard I tried to talk myself out of it, I was living in constant worry that my child would never get an opportunity to come home with us.  Even though I don’t believe that we are completely out of the water yet, deep inside me, without a doubt, I now know that Oliver has crested the peak of the mountain.  I am not saying it will be an easy next month, but I am proud to say that Oliver Moses Book is on the homeward stretch.

Oliver is officially four pounds now, which still places him well below the 3rd percentile mark in nearly every category of size.  Even so, he has proven his strength through his survival of 65 difficult days in a neonatal intensive care unit.  Recently, his crib was moved to a different area of the NICU, and while the battle is far from over, it is quite clear that this simple move signifies that our son is considered by everyone here in the hospital to be stable.  As he grows and matures, his mother and I are getting more and more opportunities to interact with him on a more personal and humanistic level.  He is consistently going to bottle and breast at least once a day, and in addition to this, showing many appropriate developmental cues for a baby of his gestation.

****

I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has participated in this journey with us so far, in whatever capacity it may have been.  In humble return for your perpetual thoughts, prayers, and love, I am confident that young Oliver has found a way to impart upon you some lesson of value during the course of the last few months.  I have no doubt that if you are reading this today, this extraordinary child has earned himself a special place in your heart.  And Annie, a beautiful mother in every sense of the word, you will always remain in my mind the soul reason for our son’s existence today.  I thank you for continued strength... from the bottom of my heart.  I will forever be in your debt.

****

As a final gift, I wish to leave with you the knowledge that one day soon, my son, Oliver Moses Book, will be sitting next to me in a field in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, experiencing a spectacle of nature that my father and I have shared together for as long as I can remember.  I look forward to passing along the heritage, passion, and love of the outdoors that my family holds dear to our heart.  As generation gives way to generation, we as humans will continue our existence.  Thank you all.  I truly believe that it does take a village.

Grrrrrr!

My new favorite towel to cuddle up in after Mom and Dad clean me up in the bathtub!  Grrrr!!

My first bottle!

That's right... I did it.  Yesterday I took my first bottle.  I drank down 14 ml of momma's milk, which is almost half of my feeding.  This was my first attempt at bottle feeding and I guess 14 mls is a lot for the first go around.  My parents and the nurses were quite surprised, and very proud of me!

Graduation

Oliver continues his forward progress in the areas of breathing, eating, and growing almost daily.  He remains on a high flow nasal cannula at a rate of 1.5 liters/min, he increases the amount of food he eats by small amounts each day, and he is slowly closing in on the 4 pound mark in weight.  All of this is quite encouraging news, but the biggest accomplishment Oliver has made in the last week is truly cause for celebration.

Oliver has finally graduated from his enclosed isolet and moved into a real baby crib.  He no longer needs external heat to stay warm, and he has also become accustomed to tolerating light and sounds at greater intensities.  For these reasons and many more, Oliver now spends his days and nights exposed to open air, just like the big boys do.

Being able to watch him sleep without the plastic barrier is very comforting.  The opportunity to hear all of the little sounds he makes is so soothing to the ear.  The fact that he is accessible to us all the time personalizes the experience just that much more.  Congratulations son!

Like Father Like Son

Oliver is starting to spend more time awake each day.  Mom and I are here often enough that we usually catch him during these 30 minute periods of awareness.  When he is awake, Oliver is very alert and shows us quite clearly that he recognizes us as his parents by becoming very calm with our presence.  We whisper to him, put our faces close to his, and give him more kisses than he probably wants.  He doesn't take his eyes off of us.  This is one of my favorite times each day.

Change of Pace

Life in the NICU has drastically changed.  The long hours of sitting and staring at numbers on monitors have given way to activities more suited to parenting.  The basic routine is still quite similar to what it once was; diaper changes, oral cares, and kangarooing young Oliver, but during the last few days, new and more developmentally appropriate occurrences have increased in frequency.

First, we have created a bathing routine for Oliver that involves a complete tub bath every 4-5 days.  He tolerates these cleanings well and at times, even seems to be relaxed as he sits in the warm water.  Momma and I also massage Oliver's arms, legs, head, or belly at least once a day, which helps stimulate the blood flow throughout his body.  Among other benefits, this massage increases muscle and bone growth as well as improves his respiratory capacity.  In addition, Oliver has started to regulate his own temperature, so the nurses have turned off the warmer in his isolet.  This lack of an external source of heat requires him to wear clothes to stay warm, so Mom and Dad spend a bit of extra time during his cares putting on the smallest button-up outfits we have ever seen.  Lastly, Oliver has begun to show some interest in breastfeeding.  Although he is too young to latch, he does get to lick and play for about 20-30 minutes everyday.  He shows signs that he really likes this time with Momma.

Oliver is still on high flow air via a nasal cannula, but more often than not, the air is not oxygenated beyond 21% (equivalent to the room air that we breathe).  He initially was receiving this air at a flow of 5 Liters/minute, but during the last week, the doctors and nurses have slowly weaned him down to a flow of 2 Liters/minute.  With each incremental reduction of flow, Oliver has shown no signs that he even notices.  He still saturates high, and breathes at a normal rate.

Finally, Oliver has had some substantial weight gain in the last couple of days.  He currently weighs 3.5 lbs, which is an increase from what he weighed just a few days ago.  The medicine he is on, which is used to drain liquid from his lungs and body, really took it's toll on him.  This was proof that much of the weight that he had previously gained was water weight.  Now, knowing that he has lost most of the liquid from his system due to this medicine, it can be concluded that his current weight is considered valid (not water but muscle, bone, and fat).

Oliver continues to grow and mature each day.  It is wonderful to be with him and watch him progress.  He is beautiful, and his mother and I love him so very much.  It is great to be a father.

Faith

What a Difference a Week Makes

This picture of Oliver was taken on July 25th.

Contrast that with these pictures taken today....

I know I am biased, but he is absolutely beautiful!

50 days...

I sit here at his bedside and look around me, tired and worn after another long night.  Things have since calmed now, and in the NICU, I am blessed with peace in these early hours of the day.  All the lights are dim.  No one is moving and no one is talking.  Even the babies seem to sense it.  They lay still and silent in their isolets and cribs.  The night nurses go off shift in another a half hour, and many of them finish their day by just sitting at their computers, charting, and preparing for the upcoming transfer.  The new day is about to begin.

Yesterday Oliver celebrated his fiftieth day of life.  A part of me knows how long that time period really is, and I can't fathom how my family has made it this far.  50 days of hospitals, 50 days of life on hold, and 50 days of worry about what the future holds for the newest member of our clan.  There exists another part of me though, that can't see a single thing behind me.  It is like the past is blur of details, created only by the speed in which the events took place.  I know it all happened, but I can't seem to remember it.  Is it true that the last 50 days passed by that quickly?  Has it really been that long?  It seems like just yesterday I was whispering to Moses as he kicked at the sides of his mother's tummy.

Oliver weighs just under 1600 grams now, somewhere near the 3 and a half pound mark.  He had been gaining weight at quite a rapid pace for awhile, but since being placed on a medication that will help him pee out the liquid in his body, and most importantly, his lungs, this weight gain has slowed down for the time being.

Oliver has also matured quite a bit in his ability to breathe.  Since ridding himself of the CPAP sometime last week, he is a much happier baby.  His current breathing apparatus is a high flow nasal cannula.  This consists simply of a tube with two nasal prongs that deliver oxygen to his system.  The amount of air the device puts out is measured in Liters per minute.  He started out on a 5 L/min setting and quickly outgrew it.  He now receives his oxygen at 4 L/min and appears to be progressing with it quite nicely.

Oliver's other accomplishments in the last week are quite numerous.  He has begun to show some interest in his mothers chest, and when placed there, he makes sucking movements with his lips.  Secondly, Oliver's parents have also recently taken an infant massage class.  Now that Mom and Dad are "certified", Oliver is the proud recipient of arm, leg, head and tummy massages daily.  We know he really loves these because his body goes into a complete state of relaxation each time we touch him.  Finally, with the CPAP and all the headgear that comes along with it being distant memories in the past, Oliver's head and face have become easily accessible at all times of the day.  Mom gives him a pacifier when he is restless, and kisses whenever she can.  He makes faces and furrows his eyebrows when he is disturbed, and purses his lips when he is hungry.

Oliver is so precious.  He spends more time each day now awake, and has started engaging in more "bigger baby" type activities.  No one knows what today will bring, but as my wife always says...each day is a blessing, and we will soon find out.  One by one, the lights come on around me.  Activity in the NICU slowly increases with the dawning of a new day.  Babies are crying and nurses start to shift about.  Day number 51 is upon us, and even though it will be another long one, I know from experience, it will be gone in the blink of an eye.

After My Bath

A moment with mommy. 7/22/12

My first tub bath!

This video was shot a week or so ago.  Oliver received his very first tub bath.  He didn't seem to enjoy it as much as we thought, but it is, of course, a necessary evil.  The video is somewhat long, but the end is worth watching.  Oliver looks so cozy cuddled up in a warm towel.  Don't be mad at me for the naked online video son.  We love you.

Again...

I must have spoken too soon... Oliver is NPO once again (the doctors have held his feedings).  He is back on IV's and had his blood drawn for cultures because of a belly that was and continues to be quite discolored and large.  It feels like an overplayed re-enactment of some horrible scene I wish to never see again.  We hope this is just another minor setback on a staircase that continues to climb upward, but either way, it goes down in the books as a really tough night.  Whenever I see him stuck with a needle, whimpering and in pain, I bring up this picture on my computer...my son at peace.

32 Weeks

Oliver is 32 weeks gestation now (45 days old).  He weighs 1500 grams, which is equivalent to about 3 pounds 6 ounces.  Just another half pound and he will have doubled his birth weight.  Several developments have occurred over the last week that have led us to believe that Oliver is progress is steady and positive.

First of all, the oxygen expectations of young Oliver have changed.  While it was acceptable for his saturation levels to be as low as 85% just yesterday, the nurses now attempt to keep his levels above 90%.  Even with this quite drastic change in demand, Oliver has managed to make the move to the lowest possible CPAP level (level 3).  We are proud of his hard work.

Secondly, he has adjusted quite nicely to his new schedule of feedings every three hours.  What this inherently means is that he gets larger amounts of food at one feeding, which forces him to be able to hold more in his tummy.  With this change of a greater interval of time between feedings, he is also allotted extra time for digestion.  He appreciates this and most often digests all that he is given.

Finally, with his newly found maturity, Oliver's tolerance of human touch has heightened.  Mom and Dad are now allowed to massage his arms and legs for 15-30 minutes once each day.  During this activity, he usually falls into a deep and pleasurable sleep.

Oliver is growing each day in both body and spirit.  He is showing us his personality through little actions each day.  This child is a lover of calm, and a seeker of peace, just as his name implies.  Oliver, derived from the olive branch, serving as a symbol of peace in many cultures.  We love you son.

40 days worth of Progress

While we know that the roller coaster might eventually reach it's summit and plunge downward once again, Oliver is currently proceeding with current life on a steady incline.  Some might even call it progress.  A few days ago, he moved from level 3 (the most severe cases in the NICU) to level 2 (a step down from there).  This included leaving the small corner of the world where Oliver spent his first month of life.  For Mom and Dad, it was a blessed and humbling move.  We know that his situation has improved, and for this we are thankful.  On the other hand, he now lives in a room with babies that are not necessarily older, but most definitely larger than he.  The whirring and beeping sounds of machines have given way to more humanistic sounds and sights.  Screaming and crying are normal, and moms around us are breastfeeding and picking their children up at will.  Oliver is the only child in this room still on CPAP, but we are hoping he eventually might assimilate to this new style of life.

Even though he remains in the 10th percentile in size for babies of his gestation, Oliver has managed to find a way to gain some weight.  Last night, for the very first time, the young man broke the 3 pound mark.  This most likely shows that less of his energy is being spent on reflux and breathing, and he is channeling more of those valuable calories into fattening up and building a bit of muscle.

Another wonderful and recent accomplishment is Oliver's new love for a pacifier.  His mother usually lets him practice for the real thing in conjunction with his oral cares.  Occasionally he forgets to breathe while he is busy suckling the milk covered plastic, but for the most part, he enjoys the experience.  It is quite clear that his mother does as well.

Hiccups

Listen close...  even little preemies get the hiccups.

Our Present Life

The instant buzz and traffic of the nurses in the NICU indicates another visitor will soon be arriving through the nearby doors of the operating room.  Oliver is small and fragile, but he senses it just as quickly as we do.  Yellow smocks and white masks are in place, a bed is prepped for the temporary guest, and within minutes, the room becomes silent, as a child begins his first breaths of life just a few feet from where we sit.  Occasionally the newborn lets out a cry, and more often than not, Oliver responds with one of his own, somehow recognizing the urgency in the air.

The approaching minutes are met with a murmur of voices at bedside in conjunction with a scurry of bodies around, which usually only last a short while, until the young child becomes stable.  A brief amount of time passes before Dad makes his appearance in the NICU, sometimes alone or in most cases with grandparents.  They are all smiles, overjoyed at the sight of new life, and thrilled with the knowledge that all is well with their child.  The cameras come out, flashes go off, and excited voices penetrate the once silent space we call home.  This ceremonious routine comes to a close as quickly as it started, and once again the room is hushed, void of its transient disturbances.

Within the next hour the passing guest departs, and the three of us rest alone once again.  We remain relaxed and undisturbed in our customary stillness; all the while knowing it will be broken again at some unknown but imminent time.  This is a scene we have witnessed on over a dozen occasions in the last 48 hours.  Each occurrence sends me into a spiral of emotion and thought.  I perceive before my eyes a notion of normality; something that right now, I have trouble accepting exists. 

These moments serve as blunt reminders of a world that exists, and will continue to exist, outside the NICU.  This knowledge surrounds me and within minutes, I feel trapped.  Without care or concern, life zealously infiltrates my seemingly protected bubble, and then without haste, it disappears back to the hole it crawled out of.

What If

I can’t stop from asking myself the ever-present question, not really pertinent to here and now, but nevertheless always looming over me like a heavy raincloud…  “What if ?”  I toil with this mentally straining question each and every day I am here. 

Even though I am constantly working on “being present”, as my wife so perfectly puts it, with so much time spent at his bedside just sitting and watching Oliver sleep, it is difficult for me not to allow my thoughts to wander.  As I stare through the clear plastic sides of his protective isolet, this unfounded meandering of the mind often takes me to dark and indistinct places.  I shake myself out of a hostile trance, only to drift slowly in that direction again.  The mind, in all its faculty and brilliance, is a challenging mechanism to defeat.

Another Week Ahead

I finally have internet access again in the NICU.  It appears that I am the only one using WiFi in thia whole hospital since my complaint this morning was the first they had heard of the problem and the server has been down for at least 5 days.  Maybe my constant rambling will seem a bit more coherent to those that don't keep such sleepless hours since these writings won't be composed at the wee hours of the morning, especially after long exhausting days.

A quick update:  It has been determined that Oliver was suffering from anemia in a big way.  The blood he received did wonders for both his activity level and for his skin color.  Lethargic and pale are never good signs in the NICU.  Since the transfusion two days ago, he is off the IV fluid and is eating again.  He is almost back to ingesting the full volume of breast milk he was taking prior to his episode two days ago.  The only difference in the application is that instead of receiving his feedings via the trans-pyloric tube (into the intestines and continuously), he is now eating with the tube directly into his stomach.  This forces him to work harder to digest the food, so the milk is given to him in increments rather than continually.  This change should also help with the problem of reflux that has plagued him for several weeks.  His oxygen needs are roughly the same as they were a few days ago, and overall he is looking good.

At the conclusion of a long three days, I am giving myself permission to take a sigh of relief.  Contrary to my initial gut feeling a few days ago, we have not stepped back near as far as I first suspected.  Oliver is a tough little guy.  He is bound to teach Mom and Dad  a few more lessons yet.

The Stockdale Paradox

Today when my wife and I entered the NICU, our son appeared lethargic and pale.  Throughout the night the young child experienced a series of apnea spells and in addition, instant drops in heart rate.  Although he was still breathing in between these episodes, it was quite obvious that the last few hours had really taken their toll on him.  Three nurses and two doctors were at his bedside discussing the options and looking quite concerned.  The events that took place thereafter were more than any parent should ever endure, a stark reminder of the seriousness of the situation our family is currently in. 

After several hours of blood tests, x-rays, and more turmoil than he has experienced in quite a while, he was wrapped back up and his isolet was closed.  Oliver's feedings have since ceased.  His trans-pyloric tube was removed from his digestive tract and replaced with a much larger tube to remove the air from his stomach.  One IV line was placed in each of his little arms.  In his right he was given a blood transfusion and in his left, IV fluid.  During the entire series of procedures, he squirmed and cried out.  His heart rate skyrocketed and his body showed obvious signs of stress.  His mother remained calm, whispered to him, and held his hand the entire time.  I was in hell.

Several hours later and still in shock from the morning trauma, I finally stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air.  As I looked to the sky, I tried to recall a story a great leader once told me.  General James Stockdale, a famous Navy POW, was somehow able to survive 8 long years in a Vietnamese prison.  He was tortured over 20 times and spent quite a bit of those years in solitary confinement.  Later, when he was finally released, he was asked who the men were that didn't make it out of the prison camp alive.  His reply was simple.  "Easy, it was the optimists."  They believed they would be out by Christmas, then Easter, then Thanksgiving.  But each of these holidays came and went, and eventually, these once optimistic soldiers, died of a broken heart.

He then went on to speak these wise words, that for some reason, were able to give me piece of mind during the aftermath of one of the most terrible days of my life.

"You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be."

Tomorrow is another day.  Mom and Dad are with you son.

A Reminder

I met a friend today at a local watering hole for happy hour.  He was only in town a few days, and I hadn't seen him in quite some time.  We spent an hour and a half catching up on things, while we enjoyed a couple of drinks and a small bite to eat.  As we talked, I couldn't help but notice a young mother walk onto the patio with her newborn child in some sort of plastic baby carrier.  I could see the little girl was wide awake in her basket as the woman walked past me and proceeded to sit down at a table that was within my view.  During her meal, her interaction with her baby was minimal.  The child was awake, but mom was more focused on conversation and refreshments than being with her daughter.

I was immediately struck by a painful realization.  Here sat before me a woman, who was most likely a wonderful person as well as a committed and loving parent, but failed to comprehend the opportunity that lay in a rocker near her side.  She did not touch the child, hold the child, talk to the child, and for that matter, even look at the child.  I don't judge her.  I understand completely.  She was probably too engrossed in her activities to worry about her seemingly content baby for that hour or two.  There will be plenty of time for that later.

At least for her...

My life is different though.  All I get to do is sit and watch while he grows, yet my part in it is so very little.  This doesn't feel like what parenting should be about.  I reach out to touch his skin, but the fear of overstimulating him forces me to stop.  I want so much for him to know that it is me that is near him, that I am by his side, and that everything will be okay, yet I know that even talking to him isn't what's best for my son.  I wish so much to rip all the wires from his skin and tubes from his head and press him close to me, holding his body against my chest so he knows I am his father.  And I dream of the day when I get to see his beautiful face whenever I choose, not on some hourly schedule.  I am caught, trapped somewhere between logic and love.

What I saw today hurt deeply, a stark reminder that I don't have the freedom to be the father I wish to be.

Oliver's Book: Ch 5

I thought I would send out a fore-week report letting everyone know how things are going inside my little bunker.  That’s right, I have been holed up in this place for almost one month now, so I am not exactly green.  It is kind of rough, because I wood rather be outside enjoying the sounds of the little birdies.  That being said, I think things here in the NICU are about par for the course.  My three main activities are sleeping, eating, and breathing, but only one of these remains a real hazard.

I spend a solid amount of time wedged between blankets in the isolet, but from time to time I have been known to slice my way out and flop onto momma’s chest for a few hours.  She let’s me lay-up there for a while, but doesn’t pin me there for more than a couple hours at a time.  I am gaining weight, which is good; because that drives the amount of food the doctors are giving me.  They address my nutritional needs by fortifying momma’s milk with all kinds of good stuff.  The other day they added iron.  Breathing is my one true obstacle.  I am not sure why, but it could be my approach.  I can’t seem to Master the art of taking constant breaths, so the doctor’s keep swinging my CPAP back and forth between levels.  I started on level 6, made some progress to level 5, but just the other day, I had a backspin to level 6 again.  One of these days I will follow through.  

Although I still have quite a journey ahead of me, I feel as if I am a fairway through my stay here at the NICU.  I am going to keep aiming high and taking strokes in the right direction.  Maybe after a few more months, if I keep up the pace, I’ll be able to make the cut.  Thanks for sticking it out with me through all eighteen.  See you in the clubhouse.

Oral Care

Every four hours, little Oliver gets to taste his mother's milk.  The milk coats his lips, mouth, tongue and esophagus, providing important antibodies and basic nutritional value to the parts of his system that do not receive milk through the tube feedings.  We give him .2-.4 ml during each of these sessions.  When he is behaving, and not struggling so hard to breathe, he gets to have his oral care without his hat on.  This is one of his favorite times, as well as one of ours.  It is amazing to see his little face and mouth in action.

Diapers

Well Oliver son, I'm sure getting my fill of diapers.  It seems like every time I turn around, I am changing one of your diapers, wiping down your backside, or putting cream on your little bottom to help soothe your diaper rash.  Adding to the misery is the realization that your mother has conveniently figured out how to arrange her pumping schedule to coincide with your diaper changes.  Imagine that.  It was only a few months ago that your dad would have never dreamed he would be changing diapers.  Now, I'm completely covered in them...literally.  The other day, because we didn't want to move you during Kangaroo Time and you were squirming around indicating a change was needed, the nurse decided to really raise the stakes.  Yeah buddy, you guessed it.  She changed your diaper right there on my chest.  I have a funny feeling it is all downhill from here.

Oxygen: The Biggest Challenge

All things considered, Oliver is doing well.  Since coming off the NIPPV, he has made it his goal to show Mom and Dad just why the NICU nurses refer to this journey as the roller coaster of a lifetime.  One minute, his oxygen needs are basically the same as what is offered by room air and his breathing is strong and steady.  The next minute though, he is forgetting to breathe, his heart rate plummets, and his blood becomes desaturated of oxygen as quick as the wink of an eye.  It takes him a while to recover from these spells, and it is quite painful to for us to watch.

Last night for a few minutes, his skin was completely grey, void of any real color.  He looked inhuman and lifeless as he lie there in his mother's arms.  My heart ached.  He gets this way sometimes when he has a severe desaturation spell, but I had never seen one so serious as this.  I struggle with the lack of control I have over these mini-episodes that Oliver must overcome.  I want so much to be able to do something to stop them, or even better, avoid even starting them at all.  I am forced to stand there and watch him suffer, a helpless child working so hard to stay alive.  I hurt for him.  This journey seems so difficult, and so very long.

When the roller coaster is at it's peak, we still find time to enjoy his silly moments too.  He loves to work with his little hands, always grabbing at everything he can.  The other day, he pulled his feeding tube out of his stomach.  He managed to get it out so far that the nurse had to put in a brand new one.  He also likes to help out with the oxygen mask we use when changing out his CPAP headgear.  Little Mister Oliver is all about giving a helping hand.  Thanks buddy!

Oliver's Book: Ch 4

Yesterday was a really big day for me.  I woke up in the morning and the nurses were taking away one of my machines.  Over the last few days, I have started to breathe a little better, and because of this, I no longer am hooked up to the NIPPV.  This ventilator was primarily used to give me a steady number of breaths per minute, but also added some positive pressure, forcing my lungs to fully expand on my inhale.  Now I breathe with the aid of only a CPAP, which requires me to initiate all of my own breaths.  It isn't always easy for me, but hopefully my lungs will continue to grow stronger.

With the exception of my twice a day "Kangaroo Time", my most favorite part of the day is when Mom and Dad give me what they call "oral care."  Oral care is the application of Momma's breast milk to my lips, gums, and mouth using a standard but sterile q-tip.  This is a really important part of my day, because with the feeding tube going directly to my intestines, I don't get milk into my upper digestive system by any other means.  The milk coats my mouth and esophagus with essential antibodies, and stimulates these important parts of my body so they will be ready for future use.  During my "oral care", I suck on the q-tip, stretch out my arms in contentment, and sometimes cry for more milk.  My mom and dad really love this part of the day.

Precious Fingers

They say a picture is worth 1000 words.

The Race

Coming out of the gate with an initial onslaught of adrenaline was the easy part.  All the hype and buildup at the starting line makes it so anyone with a pulse could have started this race strong.  Now though, I feel as if I have been running for many miles, and despite my lack of preparation, I have just found my stride.  I have settled into a steady pace that forces me to believe that no matter how long I run, I will not tire out.  I am a runner who just found rhythm, but has failed to see that he is at the base of a long uphill climb.  Up ahead the road begins to rise, and my body twinges at the feeling it knows lie ahead.  What was once flat ground gradually gives way to incline.  I try not to notice it at first, but my gait is forced to change with the increase in elevation.  My pace slows, the aching begins, and I press on.  For a minute I come to the grim realization that this race is far from over, and I force myself to remember that reaching the finish line is the only option.  I will continue to ascend even if it means constant pain, knowing that if I stop for just one minute, I will collapse, no longer being able to continue.

Happy Holidays

It isn't too surprising to hear that there were no fireworks in the NICU today, but all things considered, we are feeling like that is a pretty good thing.  Oliver did want to celebrate the holidays with a little red, white, and blue, so of course, mom and dad had to join in the fun as well.



The little guy is swimming in the smallest possible socks that can be purchased at the store.  Needless to say though, it wasn't very difficult to put them on.  Thanks to our many friends who always help us to remember to have a little fun, even when life isn't so easy.  Our best wishes go out to everyone.  We hope you enjoy the holiday, and cherish your freedom!  Happy Fourth of July.

Soothing

Even on a slow day, Oliver never forgets to show his Momma that he is always learning something new.  Yesterday, while he was cuddling with her in kangaroo-like fashion, he placed his tiny little thumb inside his mouth and started sucking on it.  This self-soothing act lasted for quite some time, and gave Mom and Dad one more precious memory to store away inside their minds, maybe for one of those difficult days when Oliver is big, strong, and it is hard to remember how small he once was.

Windows to the Soul

Today, for the first time, around 4:30 pm, baby Oliver opened his eyes and looked at us.  I am not talking about a fleeting blink or a quick glance, like he has been doing quite frequently during the last few days.  This was something entirely different.  The boy simply opened his eyes, turned his head as best he could towards his mother and I... and stared.  I was awestruck, momentarily frozen like a rabbit in the headlights of a passing car.  Not a word crossed my lips.  What really was there to say?  Only one thought could describe what I saw deep within his gaze... life.  At that moment, something changed inside me.  I saw him, my only son, as a real human being for the very first time.  It is not that I didn't realize him to be a real person before, but something about his look made me feel different inside, like Oliver knew who I was and that I right there beside him.  I could feel his tiny stare travel through my body, and through those eyes, I could see into his soul.  

He left them open for quite some time too, enough for me to shake myself out of my temporary trance and grab the camera.  Our little man gave us yet another gift today.  We are truly blessed.

Oliver's Book: Ch 3

It has been 20 days since I unexpectedly leaped into this world, and to be honest, I am finally beginning to adjust to my place in it.  The NICU was a bit stressful for me at first, and I took a while to adapt to all of the things that were happening to my body on a daily basis.  Now though, I am learning my schedule and beginning to take it all in stride.

I decided that this week I would surprise everyone and take a couple more baby steps in the right direction.  The first thing I did was tell those nurses to get rid of that uncomfortable central line...no more IV's for me!!  In addition, I have been eating more and more everyday!  I am up to 5.5 ml per hour and hope to be at full feedings (6 ml/hr) by the end of the week.  Now if I can just start gaining weight (still hovering just over 2 pounds), I will make everyone happy.  The nurses aren't too concerned yet, but they do want me to make this happen in the near future.

My Short Term Goal:  Gain weight

I am really taking a liking to "kangaroo time."  I usually spend 4 hours a day laying with my momma and another 4 with my dad.  I try not to fuss around to much, but this whole idea of breathing is still giving me trouble.  Even though I am getting better at keeping the oxygen saturation of my blood high, it is still necessary for me to stay on the NIPPV so that my lungs don't have to work so hard to keep pressure in them.  I don't know quite yet if it is a long term or short term goal, but it definitely is something I have been and will continue to be working towards.

My Long Term Goal:  Lose the NIPPV

My mom and dad are very proud of my progress right now, but at the same time, don't want to get too ahead of themselves.  They have seen a few things here in the NICU during the last few days that have shown them that the road is still quite long, and that every journey has a happy ending.  They are doing their best to be present and enjoy every moment with me, while still being logical and remembering to keep everything in perspective.

Parenting and Perspective

Parenting, a concept that many believe we have all figured out, even though we haven’t yet been awarded life’s blessing of children.  We develop our philosophy on the subject of parenting from years and years of life experience, only to find out one day, when we are instantaneously placed into the role of a mother or father, even though it seemed so clear before, we had all long been missing one crucial ingredient.

I used to think I was quite the expert on the subject of parenting.  After all, I do have a set of exemplary role models who make it seem easy, and even though they have their idiosyncrasies, I felt like I would able to identify theses nuances and modify them for my own purposes if ever given the opportunity to do so.  Furthermore, aside from my own parental figures, I, like many of us, have been awarded the chance to watch the plethora of child-rearing strategies at play each day.  These opportunities take place constantly, everywhere we go.  Amongst the many incidences to witness parenting are family gatherings, trips to the supermarket, and interactions at the school where I am employed. 

I can’t imagine I am alone in the knowledge that throughout my life, I have watched many parent-child exchanges, only to walk away thinking to myself, “When I am a parent, I will never…”   Or the equally as embarrassing times when I have spoken the words to another, “I can’t believe that parent is letting their child…”   Throughout these experiences, I was able to develop an idea and plan for the type of parent I would become.  I thought I had it all figured out, and it seemed so straightforward. 

What I have come to find out, during these last few weeks of reflection, is that these momentary thoughts and incidences where I have passed judgment on another human being, don’t speak very highly of me, nor of my ability to see much from the perspective of another.  I’m not saying my thoughts were ever malicious or cruel, just that I was unjust and blind to the reality of the situation.  While I attempted to place myself in the shoes of another, it was impossible.  I didn’t have the whole picture.  Their situation was not for me to critique.

I feel that even though my journey has just begun, I am beginning to become more aware now, that parenting isn’t as direct and up-front as I once thought.  I used to scoff at parents, even my own, about how constantly they worried about their children.  I didn’t understand the need for parents to always have to be around their kids... the time.  But those notions came from the viewpoint of a child, not of a parent.  I think I am a bit closer to realizing it now.

Now, worry consumes me every moment of every day.  I can’t be away from this hospital for even a moment before I want to go back.  All of those feelings I never really acknowledged or valued before have rooted within me stronger than I ever would have imagined possible.  I would like to say that my days of judgment are through, but we all know that people don’t change that drastically overnight.  What I can do now though, is appreciate what I do have, as well treasure my new found perspective.

I'm a big kid now!

Ok.... so I'm not as big of a kid as you might think.  In fact, I'm still the smallest little dude in the NICU.  But... I'm just a bit bigger than I was yesterday (still hovering around 2 pounds).

Most importantly though, I have graduated out of the smallest sized diapers that they have in the NICU.  I used to wear the diaper on the right, but for a couple of days now, I have been wearing the one on the left!!  The nurses told my parents that there is no turning back now.  I will never again be wearing the mini-diapers!

Little Hands, Little Feet

As I look at him, I just can't get over how externally developed Oliver's body is, despite the fact that he is absolutely the tiniest little child I have ever seen.  When he is awake, his little hands are always up to something.  His miniature fingers are so responsive, moving and bending all the time, trying to grasp onto whatever they can locate inside his isolet.  Sometimes he is reaching for a wire or trying to mess with his CPAP tubing; other times he is pushing a nurse's hand away from him or trying to help momma change his diaper.  When he sleeps though, it is absolutely precious.  I love to just sit there and watch him.  He is the epitome of peace.

He also has exquisite little feet.  It is hard to believe, even though I know it is true, that these are the same feet that were kicking at his momma's belly just a few weeks ago.  Whenever he is not wrapped up in his cozy warm blanket, which isn't very often, he is pumping those legs like he was on a bicycle in the Tour de France.  Momma usually holds them steady so the nurses can do their work without being in a danger of a black eye.  It is good to see he has such strong appendages, even though it is best for him to keep them wrapped up in a blanket for a while longer.  Like all children, mom and pop have to start setting some boundaries.  We have also started the process of taking weekly footprints so we can have a memory of his growth here in the NICU.  As you can imagine, with those active legs and feet, it is quite a challenge...but one we are excited to have.

On a good note...

We celebrated Oliver's 2 week birthday yesterday, but instead of us presenting him with gifts, he showered us with 24 hours of nothing but good news (the only gift that really matters.)

His bilirubin levels have been quite stable the last few days, so it appears that at least for now, phototherapy is a thing of the past.  The blood culture results have returned from the lab, and no bacteria had developed within the normal growing period of 48 hours, so the doctors halted the doses of antibiotics yesterday morning.  Since that time, we all have noticed that Oliver's energy level has not declined one bit.  He is back to his feisty self, grabbing onto wires and frequently disassembling his CPAP.  Even though this keeps the nurses extra busy and rolling their eyes at him, we are thrilled to have our little monster back.

14 days marks the period of time outside of the womb where a baby's skin has developed enough to adjust to the air on earth.  While Oliver remains in the isolet to keep his temperature stable, the humidity is now turned off.  For several days, it had been on a steady decline from 75 to 40 percent, before the nurses finally ended the treatment yesterday.

Since his skin no longer needs to be conditioned by the moisture, and the chance of phototherapy in his future is slim, he now spends most of his time wrapped up with blankets in a cocoon like fashion.  The pressure from the tightly wrapped blankets simulates the feeling he would have if he were still inside his momma.

Oliver has not been gaining much weight, even though his feedings have been on the increase.  This is due to the decrease in his fluid intake.  Today, the doctors decided to add some extra calories to momma's milk, in order to help him pack on a few extra pounds....(oops, I mean grams :).  The maximum feeding amount he will receive through his feeding tube is about 6 ml per hour, and right now, he is getting 3.7.  This quantity continues to rise a little bit each day.

Oliver opened his eyes a bit further today, and Poppa finally got a couple decent pictures.  I think he is saying "Hello, world.  Are you ready for me?"  We are son, but you just aren't quite ready for the world.

Overall, the last 2 days have been quite stable, and we are enjoying each moment that we have with our boy.  The nurses even suggested that due to how well the little guy is handling things, "Kangaroo Time" might soon become a twice a day occurrence.  I know one baby's momma who was excited to hear that.  Oliver has spent 4 hours, during each of the last two days, in his mother's arms.  When the two are connected, I have noticed that his oxygen saturation is very stable, and so is his heart rate.  I think he is telling everyone that being cuddled up next to momma is where he belongs.

Numb

Every night around midnight, we leave the hospital and drive back towards our house in the suburbs, exhausted from the activities and emotions of the day.  During the dark and silent drive home, I look over at my wife and speak three simple words to her.  "I am numb."  She need not say a word for me to understand that she feels the same way.  Instead, she closes her eyes, attempting to hold back tears, and nods her head in agreement.  I wonder how long this lack of feeling will continue to penetrate our lives.  Can it possibly last three months?

We drive down freeways I have traveled my entire life.  We pass by stores where we buy groceries and gas stations where we purchase our fuel.  We enter the town I was born and raised in, and yet I recognized nothing, as if I am some solemn stranger in a foreign land.  I strain to see things as they once were, longing to find some form of familiarity in this new found existence.  No matter how hard I try though, I fail.

Finally we stop at our home, the one we have lived in together for almost eight years.  We pull into the driveway and enter our house, like weary travelers at a roadside B&B.  It is 1 o'clock, and I can't fall asleep.  I look around the room and can only think of one thing.  I close my eyes and picture a young child, innocent and new to the world.  He is lying on his bed in the NICU.... alone.  I shake myself back to reality, struggling to find something else to occupy my mind.  Within minutes, I sleep.

In the morning, I arise.  The sun is out and the air is warm.  I glance outside, a cup of coffee in my hand, and stare at a backyard I once thought was beautiful.  I see grass I used to love to mow in the early summer sun, trees that provided a comforting shade when the days became warm, and a garden; my place of solitude, the small corner of the world where I could always find joy.  It all looks so distant, so unfamiliar to my eyes.  I can't even bring myself to go outside, knowing that it won't be the same.

Within a few short minutes, I finish my coffee and stand up from the wooden chair in the kitchen. From that moment on, only one thought consumes my mind.  We gather our belongings hastily and get in the truck, only to make the seemingly endless drive once again.  I do not feel my senses rejuvenate until I see him.  It just takes is a quick glimpse though, and the knowledge that he is okay brings me quickly back to life.  All is momentarily well in the world and I am ready to face the possibilities of the day.  No matter whether the news is good or bad, I know that I will be able to handle it if I am here, next to him, in the NICU.

6 wonderful years

A few days ago, my wife and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary.  We didn't commemorate our special day with a big celebration, nor a honor our relationship over a romantic dinner with candles.  It was just two young people, holding onto one another for strength, and reveling in the knowledge that our love has brought new life to this world.  The greatest gift we ever have given each other was right next to us that night lying in a moist, warm, isolet.  We wouldn't have dreamed of spending our special day anywhere else.  This is where we were meant to be.

Oliver's Book: Ch 2

"The Honeymoon Stage" is what nurses in the NICU call days 3-7 outside of momma's belly.  When little guys like me enter the world early, we tend to stabilize our condition within the first 48 hours of our lives, then remain that way for a few days thereafter.  Today, I am 14 days old and have long left that "stable" period of my life.  In order to be sure everyone is on their toes around here, I thought I would really stir things up.

A few days ago, I became lethargic, and everyone got pretty worried.  The doctors thought I had some type of infection, which is a really bad sign for babies as small as me.  In order to figure out what was the problem, a series of events unfolded within a very short period of time.  My doctors ordered a blood culture, in order to check for infections.  While they were already drawing my blood, they also decided to check my blood-gas levels.  The carbon dioxide level of my blood was way to high (around 80%).  The nurses gave me a good dosage of antibiotics for the infection, another blood transfusion to help stabilize my blood gases, and took a couple x-rays of my chest to better understand what was really going on.  The x-rays were a good move, because they informed the doctors, nurses, and my parents of a couple concerning issues.  First, the pictures showed my feeding tube was still in my stomach, instead of into my intestinal tract where they wanted it, so the nurses slowly fed it further in.  The photos also alerted the doctors that my pick-line, due to it's positioning in my body, needed to be slightly adjusted.  The specialist came in and fixed this pretty quickly.  Finally, according to the x-rays, my lungs weren't holding as much air as they were a few days ago, and the doctors thought that it was due to a liquid buildup in my airways.  The respiratory specialist suctioned some of it out, so I hope that will help.

It was a crazy 24 hours for my parents and I.  Mom and Dad met with the doctor a handful of times (so they knew what was going on), and nurses, doctors, and specialists were constantly buzzing around my bedside for several hours.  Everyone seemed a bit worried.

Things have settled down now, and everyone less concerned about my immediate health.  In fact, yesterday was a pretty good day.  The results came back from the EKG and echo-cardiogram that had taken place over the past few days.  What the doctors originally thought could be a potentially serious issue, denoted by a heart murmur, they now believe is a simple issue that will self-solve as my body matures over the next few weeks.  Also, that blood transfusion did wonders for me.  My blood gases are back to normal, and I have more energy than I know what to do with.  Back to grabbing on to wires and tubes again.

On another note, I have been eating like a champ.  I now get to enjoy 3 ml of momma's milk every hour.  The doctors have been increasing my feedings daily, and as a result, I have been gaining weight.  I passed a metric milestone today, weighing in at just over 1000 grams.  Mommy hit a milestone today too.  this was the very first day she pumped over 1000 ml of food for me,  We are a good team, me and her!

Last of all, my eyes have officially opened.  My right eye opened up on Monday and my left just yesterday.  I keep them closed most of the time, but every once in a while I open them up to sneak a peak at the world I am not quite ready to jump into.  Dad tried for quite some time to take pictures of me with my eyes open, but every time he went to snap a picture, I closed them.  This was all he could come up with.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot.  Today was my day for a bed change.  Everybody loves clean new sheets, even little guys like me!

It takes a village

We are truly blessed.  My wonderful wife and I, as well as our newborn son, are surrounded by prayers and love, every moment of every day.  The last 3 weeks have been a test for all three of us, and while I am not confident enough to say that we passed, I know we wouldn't be where we are today if this road was one that had to be traveled alone.

I have always believed that I was tough, strong, and unyielding.  Like many young men, I took pride in the idea that I could handle any situation by myself.  Any problem that arose, I would have the solution.  Any question, I could find the answer.  I will never know if that notion would have held true during the course of the last few weeks, but I can assure myself of one thing: I am quite pleased I didn't have to find out.

On June 8th, my wife came to this hospital very uncertain of what her future might hold.  The care that she received during her stay in this medical establishment was astounding.  Nurses who cared for her did so with love and compassion.  It was clear to us that they viewed her not only as a patient, but as a human being...and furthermore, a mother.  Doctors came in to visit us daily, delivering difficult information in a straightforward and professional manner.  When the time came to make decisions, very difficult ones, we were able to do so with the knowledge that the team surrounding us supported our wishes 100%.  During a time of complete restlessness and doubt, it was very reassuring to know this support existed.  Things have not changed a bit since we have shifted our lives to the NICU.  Our baby is in good hands.

Support also came in waves from the world outside the hospital.  An onslaught of emails, text messages, and phone calls, from family and friends alike, showed us that my wife and I are two people who are showered in love.  Beautiful flowers were sent to our bedside, bringing greenery and life near to us when we needed it most.  Cards and notes, containing words of wisdom and cheer, helped us to know that love was just around the corner.  Food was delivered with love, and gave us the strength and energy to push on.  Powerful prayers and thoughts showed us we were in the minds of many, and this helped us to find hope during some really arduous times.  Many will never realize how a simple gesture can affect someone's life so profoundly, but it does.  We are truly blessed.

Lastly, there exists a special group of people in our lives who my wife has properly nicknamed "The Rally Squad".  Prior to her delivery, there wasn't a time when one or more of this amazing assemblage of family wasn't by her side.  They brought life and laughter to an otherwise dreary and depressing hospital room.  They understood our needs without us having to explain them, never questioning us even when we were uncertain ourselves.  They served as a woven net, soft and stretched out just below us, giving us the confidence that we could step forward, take chances, and believe in ourselves, all the while knowing that if we slipped, we wouldn't fall far.  Simply put, they lived 6 days of their lives completely for us.  Words could never explain the gratitude we feel towards these individuals.  For their unending love, we will forever be indebted to them.

As I grow older and my experiences give me insight to what the world is really about, I learn.  I am still not sure that there isn't a lot more to it than what I now know, but I think I am beginning to finally understand the real meaning behind the saying, "It takes a village."

"Moses" (part 2 of 2)

(continued from part 1)

Moses was a religious leader and prophet.  He has been given credit for authoring the Torah, and is an important figure in the religions of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.  For many families throughout the world, Moses is a household name.  Many well known biblical stories feature Moses as the protagonist.  They range from the parting of the Red Sea, to delivering the Ten Commandments at Mt. Sinai, and of course, the historical float down the Nile River in a basket woven of bull rushes.

As the weeks went by and our little baby Moses began to grow into his name, as well as grow inside momma's belly, we decided that although it was favorable in tone and meaning, Moses would remain just a womb-name.  Momma and I had decided a lot of things though, and under the circumstances that have presented themselves since that time, changes in our theory were inevitable.  During the few weeks surrounding his birth, so many coincidences, connections, and stories about Moses surfaced, we decided to reconsider our original plan.

The first major connection dates back to 14th century B.C., at the time of Moses' birth.  During that period, the Egyptian Pharaoh had ordered all newborn Hebrew boys to be killed.  Moses' mother, determined to save her baby boy, was forced to keep him in hiding for 3 months before sending him off on his infamous Nile River adventure.  Similarly, Oliver Moses has a planned stay of approximately 3 months in the NICU.  There he will be cared for and protected.  Coincidence?

The second coincidence occurred on Sunday June 17th, just three days after Oliver Moses Book was born.  We had several phone calls from friends and family informing us that one of the readings at the Catholic mass that Sunday was an excerpt from Exodus, and more specifically, was about Moses.  Knowing what we were going through at the time, they obviously turned thoughts and prayers in our direction, as well as in the direction of Oliver Moses (who at that time was without a name).

Several other stories have developed throughout the course of the last couple weeks.  Momma Book, when told by the doctors that she would deliver on June 9th, and furthermore, that the baby had a 25% chance of living, said quite confidently, "That isn't the plan."  When asked what plan she was on, while planning to keep her child inside at a dilation of almost 10 cm,  she responded with "Plan M" and stated that it was short for "Plan Miracle."  Although it wasn't her original intent when she spoke those words, it is easy to see that "Plan M" has an obvious and very pertinent double meaning.

Another coincidental story came to light because my wife, prior to giving birth, was lying in an extremely awkward position for quite some time.  As one might imagine, certain required daily activities are not as easy when hanging upside down, and even more difficult while hopped up on lovely hospital drugs like magnesium sulfate.  The nurses told her that it was extremely important for her to have a bowel movement every couple of days, regardless of her uncomfortable situation.  This was no easy feat, so to add a bit of humor to the situation and give her a daily reminder of the difficult task at hand, our brother fashioned a large B.M. out of construction paper and taped it to the wall of the hospital room.  Every new nurse that stepped foot in our room already knew what B.M. meant in medical language, but always quite innocently asked, "Does that stand for Baby Moses?"  "Of course it does," we replied, with smiles on our faces.  But it also means what you are already thinking.

Even though Moses was originally intended as only a womb name, the cold hard fact is that the young man should still be inside his mother's womb.  He and his mother fought long and hard so that he could enter this world with the highest chance of survival (Plan M), and as protectors of this new little life, we his parents, felt that any other name we chose for him was something we tried to create for him.  He earned this name.  So many signs pointed in the direction of retaining the name he was given a mere 5 months ago, anything less just didn't seem right.  Moses means drawn from the water, in this case just a bit early.

"Moses" (part 1 of 2)

We found out my wife was pregnant in the final days of January this year.  Let's just say, it was quite a surprise for both of us.  Even more of a shock was learning that she was so far along without our knowledge, almost a month and a half at the time.  She tentatively walked out of the bathroom with two EPT's in her hand (yes two), and approached her unsuspecting husband sitting on the couch, reading some online article about hunting.  Now I'm no rocket scientist, but my mind quickly put together the pieces of the not so hard to solve puzzle: white plastic sticks in her hand, tears in her eyes, jaw on the floor.
       
          "Congratulations!" I exclaimed with a wicked grin.  "You're pregnant!"  To my dismay, the look of panic didn't leave her face.

          "Sweetheart," I stood up and whispered to her softly.  "It's okay.  We have been married for over five years and we love each other.  This kind of thing is supposed to happen to people like us."  "Plus," I added. "We will just call him Moses.  When he is born, we will float him down the nearest river in a wicker basket."  With this biblical reference and rudimentary attempt at some sly humor, the color returned to her face and she even managed to let out a few giggles.

          "Mission accomplished." I thought to myself, basking in the knowledge that in any given situation, I had the ability to make her smile.  Then....out of nowhere....it hit me like a Louisville Slugger.  "I'm going to be a dad?  There is no way I am ready for this.  Is this actually happening right now?  This is not what I signed up for."  This train of thought continued for a spell, and I was engulfed in probably the same thoughts that every man has after just learning of an unplanned pregnancy.  My wonderful wife (and soon to be mother of my first child) and I embraced that day on the couch in complete bewilderment.  But....

....at least we had a name.  Moses, he was to be called by many, both family and friends alike.  The name was never meant to be permanent fixture in our lives, but as we are learning, no one really knows what is meant to be.

(...to be continued)

Bilirubin

Neonatal jaundice is the yellowing of a newborn's skin and is caused by the buildup of bilirubin in the bodies of infant children.  Bilirubin exists at some level in all human beings, and is a breakdown product of red blood cells.  Due to the fact that our bodies are able to excrete bilirubin, these levels usually remain quite low in humans of most ages.  Bilirubin is responsible for the yellowish tint around the edges of bruises on our skin, as well as the yellow coloration of our urine.

Newborns are unable to excrete bilirubin, and in high levels, it is toxic to their system.  In order for it to be passed through their body, it must be converted into other water soluble substances that are excreted more easily.  In newborns, a process called phototherapy (exposing the infant to blue light at wavelengths of 420-450) oxidizes, converts, and reduces the level of bilirubin in their system.  Oliver had some initial bruising on his feet and legs that occurred during delivery.  With this bursting of red blood cells came an increase in bilirubin.  Since delivery, his bilirubin levels have been up and down, and he has had phototherapy treatments on and off for the last 8 days or so.  This isn't uncommon, and he could continue the treatment for another few days.  We actually think he kind of likes the blue light.  Better than all of this Oregon rain.