Stranger In A Strange World

Ella's nurse, Dora, trying to get a Christmas picture for us.
That's her thumb in the lower left corner!

A better look at her Christmas outfit, with Dora
holding and me behind the camera.

Ella today, with bright eyes and pretty jammies.

My daughter, who is now at a gestational age of 34 weeks and 3 days, or 10 days old, is handling things much better than I. In fact, Ella hasn't met a challenge she couldn't overcome. She is now 3lbs 9.6oz, which is almost 5oz past her birth weight. In just over a week, that's a lot. I am thrilled by her progress. Every day it seems that she has developed more; her eyelashes came in, her cheeks are filling out, her forehead wrinkles, her thighs are no longer stick thin. She is literally growing before our eyes! Because she would be sleeping and fattening up if she were still in utero, it is important to stick as closely to that environment as possible. In order to do this, she spends roughly 22 hours of her day in a heated, clear, plastic box, sleeping on what looks a bit like a nest. It's a pad with the head slightly elevated and this nice little bumper around her, holding her snugly in place, somewhat like when she was in my belly. She has a tiny little tube, called a nasogastric or NG tube, inserted in her nose that goes into her stomach. This is how she is fed every three hours, except for once a day when we give her a bottle. When she is able to finish a bottle without any difficulty, we will go to two, then three bottle feedings per day. Once she masters the three bottles, we will attempt nursing. Everything is very carefully planned out by the pediatrician and nurses in the NICU. I learn something new every day. I get to go to the hospital each day at 11am and 5pm to hold her for about an hour during her meal time. These are the few moments for which I live, just to breathe her in and touch her tiny hands.

It's the rest of my 22 hours that are a struggle. I'm about to be brutally honest, because I'm hoping that to get it on record might be therapeutic, but also in case anyone has a similar experience. Ella was taken by c-section. The correct terminology is "delivered" but it truly feels like she was taken. In my head, I know it was medically necessary and the best thing for both of us. My heart isn't completely on board. In the short time since she was born, I have lost my baby bump, almost completely. This may sound like a good thing, because what is the big goal for most moms with new babies? Losing the baby weight! Under normal circumstances, you would not hear me complain. Somehow it feels wrong, though, to not even look like I had a baby, to bear almost no physical evidence of her. On the under side of my wrist, where the I.V. was secured with tape, there is still a dark smudge of adhesive. I started to scrub it off, but it again feels like erasing signs of my experience. I am planning to nurse, and thankfully, I am having no problem in that area. I have to pump several times a day, then take the milk to the NICU for Ella's feedings. It's not normal to get up late at night to feed a pump. I do it for her. I'm thankful to do it. It's just that none of this feels normal.
I don't feel normal. I'm missing something. I have this really large hole in my heart, that can only begin to heal when I get my girl home. I'm not saying I cry all the time, although on days 7 and 8, I cried several times, without any real prompting. My husband was very understanding, stopped asking if I was OK and just hugged me. I awoke yesterday and felt much better. Then half way through the day, I felt guilty for feeling better. It doesn't make sense, but it was how I felt. My mother, my husband, my pastor's wife, even my doctor, have all told me that to cry is normal. That in our current situation, having gone through what we have, it would be more concerning if I was unaffected. That gives me momentary comfort. My crying is apparently the only normal thing about this situation. It isn't normal for a baby to breathe air at 33 weeks. It isn't normal for her to be in a little box instead of safely inside me. It isn't normal for her to be safer in that box than she was inside me. I am so very thankful that she's doing well, that we live in a place with such a wonderful hospital, that they were fully equipped to care for both of us. I don't want to sound depressed or ungrateful. I just feel so strange. I think that it's good, though, to feel strange. I think that when one's missing a child, strange is normal. And I think that the world will seem strange to me until I can hold her for more than an hour, and kiss her face, and hug her to my breast, and sing her to sleep.
I have stood on my faith in God and His unfailing love from the first day of this adventure. Though now, more than ever, I am falling on His grace and finding peace in His arms, until I feel less strange.

My Daughter, The Prizefighter

This is Tuesday night, the first time I was allowed to hold her.

She is breathing on her own, assisted only by a small cannula of oxygen in her nose.

Ellowyn is a truly remarkable young lady, at only 3 days old. On the first day, she came out swinging, or rather, kicking and screaming. On the first day, she was off of the C-pap (a forced-air mask to remind her to breathe) and wearing only a nasal cannula, which you see in the picture. On day two, we were able to start feeding her breast milk. We did attempt to feed her by mouth, but that is something we will keep trying over the next two weeks, while her swallow reflex develops. The bright side is, though, that she is still taking in, and tolerating the breast milk through her gastric tube. This is the BEST thing for her right now. Last night, over night, she was weened off the oxygen, so that today, she is breathing room air! She's spunky and feisty and I love it! Often in my life, people have tried to tell me what I couldn't do, and it really served only as  motivation. My daughter is the same. She won't be told that she has limitations. She won't sit quietly and accept what is handed out. Her nurse in the NICU told us she gets angry when they have to mess with her or move her around. I love it! That strength and fight is why she's going to keep surprising the people around her and why we'll have her home in record time. I am so honored to be part of her life. I'm so thankful that God entrusted her care with our family.

Welcome To The World!

Please, allow me to introduce Ellowyn Bryanne Jones, born at 12:45pm today, at 3 lb 5 oz and only 14.5 inches long. I know you can't see her face, but trust me...she's beautiful! At 33 weeks, we had a team of the best doctors and nurses and respiratory therapist all anxiously awaiting her, ready to intervene and help her take her first breath. They didn't get the chance. She cried the second Dr. Jones pulled her out. I could hear the surprise in his voice. She has refused to fall in with any statistics from day one, fighting every challenge and still exceeding expectations. She is now, in NICU, not in an incubator and not on a ventilator, but in a normal nursery bed with a heater, wearing a C-PAP, just to remind her to breathe. Praise God!

That Moment When You Know the Cake is Done, Before the Timer Goes Off

Watching the morning news...I never do that, but it's  passing the time.

That's what we're waiting for...for those of you who bake by instinct, like me, you understand exactly what I mean. I last wrote to you from my couch, where I'd been ordered to stay until further notice. Since then, a lot has happened very quickly. I was a good girl for three weeks, laying down most of the time while everyone in my family tried to fill in for me. I must say that I'm so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and the unhesitating manner in which my family rose to the challenge. When I asked my younger brother if he could come help and play Uncle Mom, he never once complained or acted as if he had anything else he's rather be doing. My Mom worked all day and then came straight over to help in the evenings while my husband was working, and backing up my brother.
So, that went on for almost a month, which is hard to believe in hindsight, as it went by so quickly. Then, my husband brought me in for an ultrasound and to update my doctor on how the bed rest was working to bring my blood pressure down. We sat in the dimly lit ultrasound room, chatting pleasantly with the technician doing the exam. She seemed to get more focused and quiet, then she said that the Radiologist would be in as soon as he looked at the pictures. I had a feeling...Then our wonderful radiologist came in to complete the exam, as usual. He is always so warm and funny, more like a good friend than a doctor. He's cared for us at every opportunity since my first pregnancy. He wasn't his usual, perky self. He started to explain the concerns and risks of my hypertension and that things didn't look like we wanted them to at this point. Ella is only a little over 3lbs, which is in 12th percentile for 32 weeks. He also said it looked as though the umbilical cord and placenta seemed compromised. I am paraphrasing, but basically, my whole body, including the part directly linked to Ellowyn's care and development, is over stressed. The immediate question became how much longer the baby was safer on the inside than she would be if we deliver by cesarean section.
The concerns of having a premature baby at 32 weeks are these: her lungs may not be fully developed, or prepared for the involuntary act of breathing as needed, she may not be prepared to eat by mouth or to swallow safely and she is literally skin and bones, without any subcutaneous fat layers to help her maintain her body heat. At least, those were the concerns on Wednesday, when this all swung into motion.
I was ordered to the hospital so that we could both be monitored. I have been given two steroid injections that are supposed to increase the surfactant on Ella's lungs, so that she'll be better able to breathe outside the womb. The ideal is to give at least 24 hours for the second dose to kick and start working. Friday at 4pm was that 24 hour mark. As of Thursday morning, Doctor Jones was not sure we would be able to wait that long. It's now Saturday, and praise the Lord, Ella is 32 weeks and 5 days. It doesn't sound like a big difference, but I'm told that every day she stays in my belly, is two days less she may need to stay in NICU.
We are just watching and waiting. My blood pressure has been up and down, but so far it hasn't hit the scary, "lets go to the O.R." mark and the baby is strong and her heart is beating loudly, telling everyone who enters the room that she's fine and feisty!
So, back to my title, I'm sitting in a hospital bed, with 8 days left until Christmas, waiting for the doctors to get the feeling that it's time. There is a tiny chance that, if my pressure would stabilize, I could even go home for Christmas, still pregnant! All your prayers are appreciated. We are at peace, knowing that every good thing comes from the Lord and that he is guiding every decision made on our behalf. Merry Christmas!!

Been Too Gone, For Too Long

Ellowyn Bryanne at 20 weeks.

So sorry that I haven't posted in awhile. I have been dealing with, or I should say, we as a family, have been dealing with some new challenges. The first, and now the least of these, was a broken oven. It broke 6 days before Thanksgiving. Because of warranty issues and the joy of having people who are not inconvenienced with a broken oven in charge of when and how the oven was replaced, we didn't get a new oven until late on Monday after Thanksgiving. Here's the funniest part...I haven't been able to use it yet. On that same Monday, I went to my OB doctor for a follow-up, since my blood pressure had been creeping higher over the past month. We had already tried two different medications and increased doses, to no avail. So, I came home from the doctor's office with a strict bed rest order and a threat of hospital admission if that didn't work. I'm very blessed because my family has rallied around and come to my rescue. I have a brother who travels with his job, but thankfully is off for a few months over the holidays. He has been so gracious as to come play Uncle-Mom and corral my children and help with dinners several days a week. My mom has been coming over after working all day to help until the kids get to bed. My husband has been working full-time, then on his days off, playing full-time Mr. Mom. My sister has been driving the kids to school. It's truly a family affair at my house these days, with me sitting on the couch, pretending to still be in charge.
Now, for those of you who are mothers, whether you work outside of your home or you are a full-time homemaker, I know you can understand how many simple tasks you perform, automatically, for your family that make the day easier. Or, if you're like me, you may not understand until you suddenly have to stop. I have sometimes thought of how much I could do with my time once the children are in school and I had my day to myself. I now realize that, even if at a sometimes leisurely pace, I still got a lot done everyday. Now, I sit around wondering if the kids have enough clean clothes for the week, if my husband has packed enough food for his lunch at work, has anyone fed the dogs, etc. Everyone is working so hard to fill in, but it's hard to explain every detail of my routine when I do it often without a second thought.
Well, as of this Monday, I'm 31 weeks along. So only 8-9 weeks to go, which sounds like an eternity. I am so grateful, though, for my doctor and my family. I'm also using this as a time to walk (figuratively) in faith, or as my pastor's wife put it, "Instead of leaning on Jesus, you need to lay on Jesus."
Truer words were never spoken, since I have to lay on my left side for the majority of the time. The praise report is, after a week and a half of bed rest and medication cocktail, my blood pressure has been normal again and so far, Baby Ella seems completely oblivious to my body's rebellion. Thank God, she is growing normally and very lively. In fact, she seems more active now that I'm less active. I wonder if she was being rocked to sleep while I ran around every day and now she's awake more often. I have more time to wonder these days.