I'm back...again!

I'm sure there was more I wanted share however, as it often does, life got in the way. I don't remember exactly what it might have been. Thats ok, there is something else that has been on my mind A LOT.

So Olivia is trying to walk. She isn't much for adventure so it seems like it has taken a bit longer for her to master new skills. Specifically, crawling and walking. Although, the reward is her extreme satisfaction with herself when she gets all "risky" and takes 3 or 4 steps. My infatuation w/my baby is probably nauseating but I would like to explain why.

It all started with my grandma. Who all growing up was my biggest champion, loved me unconditionally and supported me always, there really just aren't words. She survived a massive stroke while I was pregnant with Aubrey (2001). This was devastating for me, but she is a survivor and though she was not the same, she lived until November of 2006. During this time I had some amazing moments with her, precious times I will never forget. Shortly after grandma passed I was surprised by my pregnancy with Olivia. It was January, flu season and I thought I had the flu. Then a week went by and it occurred to me that this was not the flu. So went the rest of my pregnancy...I hugged a bowl 24/7 until at 20 weeks I found out I had gestational diabetes. When my blood sugar was under control the nausea was better but not gone completely. Needless to say, I thought this pregnancy would never end. Then our precious Olivia was born. Of course there was not even a question that I would give Olivia the middle name of Margaret after my grandma.

Three days after Olivia was born Sean's grandpa passed away. Just days after Sean and the older kids returned Sean and I were talking about our newest member. I was concerned that her color was just not right at times. I was worried that I was seeing things due to hormone overdrive and sleep deprivation. As we were discussing this our baby just stopped breathing. It took me a moment to really see what was going on. Even though she was breathing again, we both realized that this was serious. Knowing if I called 911 we would have to go through the local hospital first and I just wanted to go to Primary Children's. I got us in the car as fast as possible and drove with one had reaching back to her head, so I could feel her pulse through her soft spot. She seemed to be ok from what I could tell when she was checked out at the hospital her oxygen level was 91. Which is ok but definitely not ideal. They decided to check me in and monitor her. After hours of observation and waiting for the Dr. they decided that her oxygen levels weren't very stable. They had to check for infection which meant blood draws as well as a spinal tap for meningitis. Everything came up normal but thankfully they trusted me and saw that something was going on. The first day at the hospital was a round of preventative antibiotics and closer monitoring of her heart, lungs and oxygen as well as a GERD test. That night was a defining moment for me. I had enough time on my hands to convince myself that I was in fact crazy enough to land my baby in a hospital attached to wires and being pricked and prodded like a science project. I finally surrendered to exhaustion only to wake 2 hours later with 5 nurses surrounding the tiny hospital crib my baby was sleeping in. Monitors politely chiming, in reality indicating a serious problem. As they departed one by one I asked one who looked familiar, "what happened?". She calmly explained that Olivia, once again, stopped breathing only this time her oxygen level dropped to an astonishing 49 (low is below 92). They all rushed in to assess the problem and went to work. As I looked over my baby I realized that she had acquired a new hospital accessory, oxygen tubes. Then all that she said was a blur, except that she explained if this had happened at home it was likely that Olivia would not have recovered. That is the moment I realized that I was there for a reason. I had gone to the hospital the night before, determined to "save my baby" for a reason. If I was not so sure before that point, I knew in that moment I saved my baby. Olivia was just one choice away from being another tragic statistic of SIDS. Often a syndrome that hits randomly without any signs or symptoms. We spent the next 6 days in a blurry cycle of napping, feeding, nurses, feeding, poking, feeding, doctors, and feeding. Finally every test was exhausted. There were several small diagnosis, GERD (acid reflux) shallow breathing as well as underdeveloped lungs (which is common in babies born to diabetic moms). Both the dr. and myself felt confident in sending us home with precripts for GERD and oxygen tanks as well as an oxygen monitor. While it was nice to be home again I became mom again to the older kids as well as 24 hour nurse to Olivia. As you can imagine she was attached to my side all day and night. We were literally inseparable for the following weeks until her pediatrician was confident in her ability to thrive off of oxygen. That was a really hard step for me to take. I was so used to watching her monitor and having the oxygen to rely on. I kept a spare tank around for the next month, just in case.

It's now been a year since that ordeal and I have thought so much about the entire experience. While I had moments of clarity and definitely a fear of the worst. I don't think I fully comprehended how close Olivia was to dying. Forgive me if I sound overly dramatic. I was living in survival mode, taking care of the basic needs of a newborn, feeding, changing. As well as checking monitors, adjusting oxygen giving meds by the clock. Then on top of that taking care of the house and older kids. I am so blessed to have such a supportive, understanding, helpful husband, I could not have made it. So now, a year later, I can breath. Not only that but I see this brilliant little person growing and thriving. Not only that but everyone loves her! Now I'm bragging (like I said, is nauseating).