Our spring break had been going about so nicely. On Thursday we were having our first sleep over with four kids. The night was rough, Miles had been awake most of it, but I assumed it was because of not being at home. I had been keeping my eye on him as Wesley had a terrible cold and cough and had accidentally did so on Miles. It seemed like perhaps Miles had come down with a little cold, he'd cough, wheeze for a few seconds and go about his normal new baby routine. It concerned me enough to have Phil figure out how much albuterol a newborn could safely take. We gave him a dose and he perked up and I eased up on my worrying.
That friday night was rough. Miles had spiked a fever, wasn't sleeping, or nursing, and started coughing. By 4am I was pretty nervous and woke Phil asking if he thought I should take Miles to the ER. Phil said that he thought Miles would be ok until morning when the clinic opened. I had Phil take him so I could try and catch some sleep. An hour later Phil woke me and said to take him now as he was struggling to breathe. I doubt I've ever dressed so quickly in my life! I threw a few diapers in the bag and headed out the door.
They had us back very quickly and told me what I already assumed; RSV. Lizzi had contracted it as a 15 month old, so I figured a quick round of steroids and a breathing treatment and we'd be on our merry way again. It's a bit different with a 5 week old babe. He didn't respond to the breathing treatment, and we weren't going home. I was scared when they said he needed to be admitted. The three nurses needed to get an I.V. in as the fever and lack of nursing over the night had left him dehydrated. I had never felt so helpless as I watched two of them hold my (amazingly strong fighting) baby down and try to get a needle in his pudgy little arm. The screams of pain and terror that came from Miles' mouth drove me to tears in the corner as there was nothing I could do. After blowing a vein on one arm and poking him twice unsuccessfully on the other, they gave up and decided that the peds nurses would have a better chance at it. Blessedly Phil's sister was on call at the hospital and was able to admit him. It was such a comfort to get a hug and reassurance that he would be better once they got him upstairs and on some medication.
Since Miles was over 12 lbs at the time, they decided he was big enough to go to the pediatrics floor instead of the NICU. They wheeled us upstairs and started working on him. Again, a blessing, one of the nurses that was to get the IV inserted was from church, and was a comfort to me. The gals used a really cool little light wand that showed the veins easier. The one nurse was eyeing a vein on his head and I started praying that they could find another as I cringed at the thought of a needle stuck in his head. Thankfully the other gal found one on the top of his foot. Since they are so experienced with little ones it went off without a hitch.
I found it quite painful to see my little Miles so sick and tiny in the huge crib bed with wires and tubes coming out everywhere. There was an IV, and oxygen monitor, and oxygen tube. He was one sick little baby.
After they got him all settled and he fell asleep I did the hardest thing in my life. I went home. The nurses gave a look and I was pretty sure I heard whispers, but maybe that was just my guilt over leaving Miles all alone. However, I hadn't showered in days, hadn't eaten, and knew that we'd be there for a few days. Since I had taken Miles in the van, Phil had no way to bring me supplies. I called to tell him that I was on my way, have breakfast ready for me, a bag with snacks and clothes so I could shower, eat and be on my way. Even though I had been struggling desperately with postpartum depression and wanted to bawl my eyes out, I did not. I went on auto pilot and called everyone to pray for Miles.
I got back to the hospital just as he was waking up and the nurses were checking on him. I was exhausted as I pretty much had not slept for two days straight. I also was starting to feel like I was getting the flu. Scared that if they knew I was sick they'd kick me out, I put up a brave front and managed to act ok until I could nap. When I woke up I realized that it wasn't the flu, but the start of mastitis. Since Miles hadn't been able to nurse I was engorged for too long and was starting to pay the price. When I told our nurse she said 'oh honey, I know you're not the patient, but we gotta do something for you!' She got an electric pump for me, heating pad, and tylenol from her own desk. I was able to express an unbelievable amount of milk for the next few hours, but thankfully drained the excess and end the pending infection.
That Friday seemed like touch and go to me. The fever wasn't responding to the lowest dose, so they had to give more. The x-ray came back with a questionable spot on his lung, which raised concerns for pneumonia. Saturday morning Miles wasn't making the progress they wanted and started him on an oral and IV antibiotic as there was still the concern about pneumonia or perhaps a secondary infection. Finally he started getting better, but the doctors were still saying Tuesday. I asked our prayer warriors for Monday as I missed my kids. I hadn't seen them since that harried breakfast friday morning. They ended up going to the children's museum in kearney as we had planned. Saturday Phil was planning on bringing them up so I could play Uno in the waiting room, but they ended up sick with the stomach flu. Phil's mom was a saint and watched our sick kids so he could come up and keep me company. Sunday, since the kids were still sick he wasn't able to come so I could go to church, so he skyped the service to me. We had a steady stream of visitors the whole time, it was so nice to have those quick moments of personal contact.
You might have noticed on Miles' foot there is a blue sticker. That was the foot the IV was placed. The nurses taped a cup over it and put the sticker on it for looks. They said they had to do that as babies will rub with the other foot until they wiggle it out. I was amazed when I saw him try and do this. I had no idea that babies were so aware of their bodies. I was absolutely floored when I saw Miles reach straight to his nose, grab the oxygen tube and yank, not once, but twice.
Sunday Miles turned six weeks old, and I felt like I had my baby back. He had been fever free for a day, and his oxygen levels had been steady enough that he didn't need two of the tubes. Miles also started smiling again and gave his first try at rolling over. The hospital stay, though scary at first was quite a blessing in disguise for me. I was able to spend three whole days doing nothing but sitting and holding my baby. It was like a second babymoon and it was exactly what I needed to overcome my postpartum depression.
Monday morning came and I was very excited about morning rounds as the night before the nurses had said they thought he'd get to go home providing a good night. It was hard to not jump for joy when he was declared to be released. We were going home with two days of antibiotics left and a prescription for a nebulizer machine. Phil's sister said he'd probably need to have breathing treatments for the rest of the week, but by Thursday morning he didn't need them anymore.
We have been cautioned that since Miles had RSV at such a young age he might develop something called reactive airway disorder. Basically saying that he can asthmatic like issues each time he gets a cold. We have been praying this to be untrue and that the nebulizer machine will do nothing but collect dust on the shelf.
