Thursday, January 13, 2011

Maya and the Ferocious Starvation Diet or "Part One"

(this story is too long and crazy to post in one part, so this is the first part of how the earth acquired little Maya, the toughest baby I know)

The most tender of mercies today. There's so much love and snuggly warmth and the tears and giggles and "ooooooo's" and "awwww's" have taken me over. I didn't sleep but 3 hours last night, Mike and I finally collapsing into our bed around 4 am. We were up and at'em just before 8, dressing Lola and Harper for a busy busy day.

Today is fantastic. I will remember January 13, 2011 for the rest of my life.


I wrote that literally hours before I got a call from Tiffany, the scared 18 year old daughter that we had just left just before. I wrote that when we thought that the perfect baby who was born to her was just fine. The next 96 hours were the scariest hours of my adult life.

I called Tiffany as we sunk into bed, asking her if she was SURE I could sleep at home that night. She told me that she was going to take a sleeping pill and crash since she'd slept practically zero the night before, what with all the C-Section nonsense. I told her I'd keep my phone next to my head, and I did. Except for one thing. Lola, the incredibly intelligent 9 month old who slept next to us happens to know how to turn the ringer off. (Stupid phone companies. Why put the ringer volume on the SIDE of a phone, where you put your hands when you hold it?!)

I woke up at 4 am with a nagging feeling. Yes, I get those often, what with having 6 kids and all, but this one wouldn't go away. I put my hand over next to my bed and saw the light on my phone illuminate.

"14 Missed Calls"

EXCUSE ME?! I missed calls. In the middle of the night. Calls in the middle of the night are almost never good but 14 can't be good.

Calls Missed:






Loni (the caseworker with LDS Family Services)

(repeat as necessary)

I hit redial to the hospital room and get the my daughter's room. She informs us of two things: The baby has been flown to a nearby well known Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and that our daughter's blood pressure is so high they won't even let her walk to the bathroom.

I assured them I'd be there in minutes, wake my sleeping husband and call our bishop. He's awake. He had a feeling too. He gets dressed and meets us there. The drive was cold and snowy, and as we get in the room, I've got a few mixed reactions. One, I see my daughter there, her bloodshot eyes swollen from crying, and she's holding out photos the nurses took of the baby before she was flown out of the hospital. The baby has tubes in her throat, down her nose, in her hand. She's got good color but she's definitely sick.  The other reaction is a feeling of calm. With our bishop already there, Loni, the Bionic Caseworker sitting in the couch on the other side of the room, I felt immediately that things would be ok.  After Mike and the bishop give Tiff a really sweet blessing of comfort and health, I leave to go to the hospital where the baby is going for more testing. They told me she might be in surgery by the time I get there, and I anticipate lots of doctors and scrubbing and crying. Boy was I right.

The doctors are quick to let me in to see the baby. They make me scrub like I'm going into surgery, but I get to hold her. She can't eat til they know if she's got what they suspect, an Intestinal Malrotation. Tests all day will reveal if she'll be wheeled into emergency surgery or not. But I wait at her bedside, holding her tiny binkie in her mouth as she looks at me with her sad little eyes, begging for food that they won't let her eat.

(part 2 tomorrow)


"The Aimonites" said...

Wow! I am speechless and I let out a slight arghhh! because I am anticipating the rest of what has happened. I will pray for all of you and I hope hope hope you guys will be OK. smooches and lots of hugs


Stacey Eaton said...

Wait, what? Where is part two? What happened!?