My BOY is ONE!

Oh dear OH DEAR! I can't believe it has been so very long since I last posted. Remember how I was going to blog more and enjoy my bath time? Well I have seriously been enjoying my baths!

I also have been enjoying my baby too. My sweet duck turned one ONE last month and although he is not yet walking or crawling, I am all over the place trying to entertain him and get him to eat and sleep and learn. It's a huge job and one that I love...most of the time. And while I still want to finish Logan's birth/life/93 days in the hospital story, I am going to take some time to brag about his life now.

 

Over the past few months Logan has been growing like a weed. He was in 3 month clothes forever and I had a mini celebration when he graduated to 6 month clothes. I was confident he would stay that size for quite a while so I was shocked when only a couple weeks later his pants were too short! He gains weight very slowly but he is growing longer by the minute.

He is way more social now and vocal too. He usually makes his feelings known with his mouth wide open and has mastered his mama, dada and gaga sounds. He has no clue that I am actually 'mama' but it's cute to hear him jabber and try to figure out new sounds. Sometimes it seems like he is speaking in complete sentences. It's amazing how he picks up on little things like how I talk with my hands and make faces. He'll watch me closely and then shake his arms and blabber very seriously about who knows what. I just can't help but laugh at perfect those moments are.

Each day is full of new discoveries and I love watching him process things. I have to hold myself back when he gets frustrated because I know he needs to figure things out. I guess I just got so used to doing everything for him and now he is getting independent. It's hard to see him grow up but it is such a blessing that he is doing so well.

I honestly can't believe it has been a year since Logan's freak entrance into my life. I was so scared for so long and there were moments when I wondered if this day would ever come. But it has and now I need to learn to back off a little and hover less.

I remember one day in the NICU shortly after Logan was born. The nurse on duty was very intimidating and made it very clear that I was to leave Logan alone. I sat in an uncomfortable office chair and stared at my baby. He was twitching and cringing and seemed to be in a lot of pain. All I wanted to do was put my hand on his little body and make everything better. I got tears in my eyes and was getting really overwhelmed. Before long I was crying hard but quietly trying not do draw attention to myself. I couldn't comprehend how I ended up there with a small sick baby. My mom came around to where I was sitting and told me to touch my baby. I was so terrified but slowly I opened up one of the little side panels while the nurse wasn't watching and put my hand on Logan's body. Pretty soon both Logan and I relaxed and my tears slowed down. It was so peaceful to be able to just touch him and I felt like things would be ok. Of course things got must worse after that but in the end Logan healed and grew into the sweet boy he is now. And I get to hold him and cuddle him and love him all I want.



Logan is such a joy. I never knew that one mini man could make me love so much and so fully. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure that I am actually here, living in this moment. I thank my Heavenly Father each day for the miracle that Logan is and the happiness he brings into our home.
If I forget to count my blessings, there is a small little dude by my side who squeals or bites my finger to remind me how truly lucky I am. The days are sometimes hard and the nights are long while Logan continues to struggle with his breathing but I am pretty sure I wouldn't change anything. In fact I know KNOW that I wouldn't change a thing.

A little PTSD for thought...

Oh my goodness! I can't believe how long it has been since I last posted! I have written and rewritten this post in my head like a billion times and I finally FINALLY took a moment to myself to get my thoughts down. Logan's story is still fresh in my mind and it needs to be told. I mostly want it down so I can feel more at ease. That seems weird but the more I go over it in my mind the more I remember. The more I remember the more I see that this was a huge test on my faith and personal growth. I can look back now and see what I actually survived and what an immense presence the Lord has in my life at the time. It is also a very good reminder that miracles happen and prayers are answered. I love my little guy more than ever now and it is good to be so aware of how much I am blessed by having Logan around.

So I was speaking to my doctor the other day and I mentioned how exhausted I was. Not just physically but emotionally as well. I understand the physical part of it. A baby is a lot of work and while I love every minute of it (mostly), it does take a lot out of me. I sometimes feel like I am not mother material because I am so incredibly tired. I usually end up having a nap with Logan in the mornings so I can catch up on sleep and not deal with a messy house and dirty laundry that I should be taking care of. What kind of mother sleeps during the day? I use the excuse that I usually don't sleep at night but I have been dealing with that my whole life so it's not a huge deal. The rest of the day I just try to entertain Logan enough to keep him from fussing when I should be doing flash cards and animal noises and practicing ABCs. I feel so inadequate but I push that aside cause someone is hungry or needs a diaper change (not me!)

Anyway as my doctor and I talked and as I thought more about things I realized that part of the problem was how I felt inside too. Not sad or depressed really but just kinda flat. I have really pride myself on how mature and wonderful I have become since high school but moving home I have been a little irritable and short with my family and I haven't really taken care of myself. I mean I sat with Logan for three months in the hospital and then we were grounded to the house for another three months. Let's just say that the baby fat was added onto (and yes there was baby fat even though Logan weighed less than an Oreo cookie) and I have just sort of justified that.  But what really got me thinking was when the doctor said something that kinda shocked me. He told me I had been through a major trauma and that he was surprised I was coping as well as I was. Major trauma? Nah...of course it was a little scary having Logan so early and it was trying being in the hospital for so long but there weren't broken bones or massive head injuries involved. He asked me what I felt the most as Logan spent time in the hospital and out of nowhere I realized that the stress and overwhelming emotions that I had each day could be described as traumatic.
First I never got to hold Logan when he was born. I had been looking forward to that the most and while I brushed that aside due to the circumstances I still mourn about that a little. I really psyched myself up for that moment and it was disappointing when it didn't happen. But at the time it was the least of my worries. The second thing I remembered was that everyday EVERYDAY for two whole months I questioned whether Logan would survive. Grayson had a lot more faith than I did and seemed to know that Logan had a mission here on earth and would pull through but I didn't share those thoughts. Each night as I left the hospital I prepared myself for the fact that I might not see Logan alive again. Even now it brings me to tears so I can only imagine what it did to me then. Most mothers don't prepare to say goodbye for good each night when they kiss their kids and tuck them in. Even some of the other moms in the NICU never had to think about that. But I just added that to my little bag of stored up emotions that I would deal with later and called the nurses 14 times a night and got there early the next morning to sit and stare at my baby. It was what I felt I had to do. I did the bare minimum to take care of myself and made sure I was with Logan the majority of the time to watch his chest move up and down.

So looking back at the whole experience now (I seem to do that way too much...hence the need to write this stuff down) it was a total trauma. And I haven't dealt with it properly. I have been too busy loving my baby and counting my blessings. Why should I take of me when I am responsible for a little miracle? I carry Logan around and go through each day the best I can. But my doctor helped me to realize that I need to empty my emotion bag out. Logan is getting heavy and hauling him plus my boulder filled feelings bag is dragging me down. I need to get feeling better for Logan AND for myself.  It's funny how a trip for a refill of birth control can be so eye opening.

And so I made a promise to myself. Continue telling Logan's story. Get it all out...every feeling and thought and emotion. And remember what a joy motherhood is. I also need to take time for me. I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Logan has survived living with me for all these months now that I must be doing a few things right.

So here's to more blog posts and bubble baths. More kisses and confessions. More loving and letting go. I can do it!

Lucky Me!

It has been over a month since I last posted and while Logan's story is fresh in my mind and I am just itching to finish it up we have had some major changes in the past couple of months and I have been overwhelmed with saying goodbye to good friends and Portland and packing and moving and and unpacking and staying in my parents basement.

It's not that bad but I like having my own space that I can leave Logan's things everywhere and a place where I don't have to worry if I forget to close a window when I turn on the AC or if I load the dishwasher wrong. My parents are great and have really made us feel at home. My dad encouraged us (rather persistently) to empty all the boxes in the garage so we could feel settled and my mom was really excited to inform me that I could cook dinner each night and take care of the dishes each morning! I guess I'm lucky because I will have the house all to myself during the day. I'll be free to hold a teething, slobbering fussy child for 8 hours straight who has yet to adjust to the one hour time change and sleep through the night. An adorable baby who refuses to have a regular bowel movement in this time zone (bring on the suppositories and explosions). I also get to do laundry and clean and cook for my new family of 5. I just can't wait for Gray to start work again cause it will eliminate my nap time and bring home very little money (since he has no clients yet...) And don't get me started on the wonderful increased price of everything and even more expensive gas. Yipee! And seriously who could forget that winter is fast approaching and I will be privileged enough to become a hermit because any attempt to go outside after 4 years of Portland weather would be plain insanity. I don't even think we own a warm jacket for Logan.

As we get more comfortable with being back home and close to family I just can't help but jump for joy. Here's to midnight screamings, feedings and backed up bowels. To cold toes, noses and jacked up prices. To cleaning and weaning and cooking galore! It's great to be home!!!

* a small note to everyone: I am aware that I am hugely blessed with a super amazing family and healthy baby and really just wrote this late at night while I was overtired and sicked of being nagged about minor things. It's all in good fun *

SWAT Team

I don't remember the days anymore. I just remember different moments. I wish I would have kept a better record of what was happening with Logan but I was still so shocked and spent most of my time just staring at him and counting each breath he took. We were told by the doctors that his lungs were pretty bad. No where close to being where they needed to be. Each breath Logan took hurt and he struggled at first. The nurses tried to give him something to ease the pain but he had an allergic reaction to it. He whole body twitched and shuddered while the nurse tried to tell me it was a normal response. He was just trying to get used to his body and his neurons were firing like crazy. I knew she was wrong though. There was no way that what Logan was doing was normal. Sometimes when he twitched his whole body would jump. I mean he literally got air and finally I convinced his nurse to take another look. They agreed and took him off of the Adderall and started a Morphine drip to see if that helped. It was a major improvement. He still moved a little and twitched and always managed to somehow throw his hands up over his head but he was more still and looked rested.  I made the mistake of relaxing a little after a couple days. And then about the third or fourth day I walked into the NICU early in the morning and Logan was just laying there. He hands and arms were laying limp at his sides and his breathing was labored. He was really pale and was hardly moving at all. I was filled with dread because I knew something was wrong. The nurse explained that Logan wasn't making enough red blood cells and would need a blood transfusion. It was so scary and I asked if I could give Logan the blood he needed. They said that they didn't really do that in the hospital because it was a long process and Logan needed the blood right away. He was too worn out from trying to breath. I had to sign some forms and then I watched as they hooked up a little syringe full of blood. There was probably only like 2 tablespoons in the syringe but it was what Logan needed. Not long after the transfusion he was nice and pink again and reached his arms up high over his head just to reassure me he felt better. Gray joked that all Logan needed was a steak and I decided that he could get a syringe of blood every day after that if it helped him improve so much. However my relief was short lived. The next evening as we were getting ready to go home Logan just stopped breathing. He had been working so hard to breath and sort of decided he was done. Alarms rang and whistles blew. Our nurse was on a break so I looked around for someone to help Logan. I finally yelled at a nurse on the other side of the NICU that Logan wasn't breathing. She looked up at me and said it was ok because he was on a ventilator. I quickly told her that he was not at all on a ventilator and was in real trouble. She hustled over then and made some excuse about how she forgot that Logan had been on a ventilator the week before. I looked at her like she was crazy because the week before my baby was still inside me. By then a few more nurses came over and started stroking Logan and rubbing his feet and encouraging him to take a breath. They even picked him up and turned him over to get him breathing again. I was hysterical just watching them flip my tiny baby around so I walked into one of the family rooms and closed the door. I cried and said a prayer pleading for Heavenly Father to help Logan. I could hear them frantically working on Logan so I took a few moments to calm myself and then went back out. The first person I saw was Grayson and he was crying. I immediately assumed the worst and rushed to the end of Logan's incubator. I remember thinking that I needed to see Logan one last time. I memorized his little face as the doctors and nurses continued to work on him. I cried for everything I would never experience with him and I again felt immensely guilty for bringing him into the world too early. And then, just like that, he took a breath and I began to hold mine. I stared and urged him to take another deep breath and slowly slowly he started to breath again.  Grayson came over and we watched as Logan kept on breathing. The nurse practitioner came over and explained to us that Logan had just experienced some called a bradycardia. He has stopped breathing which caused his heart rate to lower and set off the alarms. I never wanted to see that happen again. I told Logan that he had to keep breathing and he wasn't allowed to bring in the swat team of nurses and doctors anymore. I think I aged five years that night. I finally agreed to go home and get some rest but I called the NICU every two hours to make sure he was still breathing. He did but it only got harder. And poor Logan was in for some huge changes.

Arms still up after all the hard work of breathing

I gave birth to a space monkey...true story!

I was sitting on a blow up doughnut trying to forget what had happened the night before. I still couldn't believe that I had just had a baby. And I was preparing myself for bad news. For some reason I thought my baby was going to die. He couldn't survive in this world because he wasn't ready for it. So I kept telling myself that I would just have to try again. I was tearing up and I was getting sad. My body ached and my head was sore. And I had to come to terms with the fact that my baby wasn't going to make it.

I tried to figure out how I got here. I had waited so long to be a mom. I joked with people that all I wanted was a baby and Gray was the one that didn't.  In reality I don't think I was really ready for the responsibility. I was terrified of raising a child in this crazy world and I was so worried that I would be a horrible mother and screw up. But as time went on and people kept having adorable babies, I kind of changed my thinking. Maybe I could do this. When girls that I use to babysit started having their own babies I decided I was ready for that adventure too.  When we got pregnant I was beyond happy and a little smug. No one was gonna steal my thunder. I would accept the congrats and enjoy the attention. Then my sister Angie had also announced that she was pregnant and I was freaking out because as the oldest child I had to have the first baby. So I told my baby to hurry up and bake because I was waiting for him. I thought about all this as we drove to the NICU and I blamed myself for rushing my baby. I put too much pressure on him and now I was just going to have to start all over again.

We arrived at the hospital and went to see Logan. When I first saw him I was speechless. And I just stared.There is no way to describe it. Later on when I would describe what he looked like I said that his body was the size of a pop can with string cheese sticks for arms and legs. Small just didn't explain it.  His skin was completely see through and an awful orange red color. I saw all his veins and they were as thin as a piece of thread. The nurses had been trying to get an IV in his arm and he had pokes and knicks all over his skin. His head was smaller than a tennis ball and his ears were paper thin. I thought they were stuck against his head and they looked like you could just peel them off. His eyes were still fused shut and very swollen.  He had small tubes up his nose that were connected to bigger tubes. Those tubes were held in place by the most welfare looking setup called CPAP. Safety pins and elastic bands were attached to a little knit hat. His face was squished because the little hat was so tight and his nostrils were inflamed and red from having things shoved up his nose that were too big. If there was such a thing as a space monkey, I was looking at one. He was so sick and strange looking and I felt guilty for not thinking he was the perfect child.  My poor baby just lay there and I had no idea what was going on with him. My eyes were full of tears and my heart was just breaking. The nurse that day was nice and sort of explained all the tubes and bells and whistles connected to Logan but mostly left us alone. I sat down in a swivel chair and pulled it right up to his incubator. I pressed my face up against the edge and watched him breath. His breaths were really shallow and I could see his heart beating really fast. Our night nurse came on and explained a lot more but I just sat next to Logan late into the night. Gray went home to sleep and still I just sat and stared.

I think I went to sleep for maybe an hour that night but the alarms on Logan's bed kept going off and I would jump up and rush over to make sure he was still breathing. Every breath looked so painful and I had never wanted to trade places with anyone so much. I had put Logan in to this awful situation and I would have given anything to take all his pain away. But part of me was still not quite connecting with this child. He needed me but it was still so surreal. I couldn't even touch him and yet I was his mother and he needed me. There had to be something I could do for this teeny baby that could help him. I was convinced if I could just touch him that he would feel better. However another nurse had come on for the day shift and she was all business. She told me that Logan's skin was like wet tissue paper and just the smallest touch could cause it to peel off. With the nurse nazi hovering around I was too scared to even look at Logan.
So I pumped. It was beyond embarrassing at first but my boobs were making food for my little guy and every drop would help. And I began to calm down. I even had the audacity to think that I could handle this whole situation. I would just take it day by day. Be there for Logan and see how things turned out. Everyone was so optimistic about him that I started to think that he would be ok.

Unfortunately it was a feeling that was very short lived and I soon realized that I was in no way prepared to deal with what was coming.

3 days old... CPAP and sunglasses

Without the bells and whistles

I spent 5 years of my life attending university. I worked hard... like insanely hard. I majored in Education and I was shocked at the amount of work that was required. I had to write lessons plans on how to write lesson plans. I had classes on how to teach classes. I had to take a music class, a PE class and an art class on how to be a musical, PE, art teacher. When I finally finally graduated I was so proud of myself. I had earned my degree and after all my work and five long years, I became a teacher.

It only took 35 minutes for me to become a mother. It was a fast, hysterical time and totally insane. And I wouldn't call it my finest moment either. I wasn't proud of this accomplishment.  I was pretty sure my baby wasn't going to survive and I was pretty mad about it.

People immediately started congratulating us and I was stunned. Seriously? Getting congratulated on having a premature baby is like thanking someone for rear ending you. It just doesn't work. I felt like I was being applauded for having an incompetent cervix and being too stupid to realize that I had been having contractions for weeks now. I mean the last two days I had been IN LABOR and I had no clue.  

The rest of the night was weird.  The doctor from the NICU called and explained what was going on with Logan. I was totally confused and overwhelmed so I just mumbled a few things and hung up. I remember being hooked up to a breast pump early early in the morning and I almost laughed at the teeny amount of milk I got. I was told that pumping was one of the main things I could do to help Logan. The lactation specialist said I was producing liquid gold and needed to be sure to save every single drop. I was also totally humiliated that the nurse just pulled my gown off and poked and squeezed my boobs like it was a normal thing to do. In reality that was just the beginning. Over the next three months my poor boobs would be seen and touched and squished by most of the NICU staff and even some of Logan's doctors.

After breakfast I starting getting antsy about being in the hospital. I wanted to leave but at the same time I just wanted to forget everything that had happened. I wanted to get up and I wanted to go back to sleep. Grayson was supposed to come get me later in the afternoon so we could go see Logan but I also thought about just staying in the hospital and avoiding whatever was going on with him. The doctor and nurse both suggested that I stay another night and get better. They still had no idea why I went into preterm labor and I was not feeling well. However I had a nagging feeling that I needed to go see my baby. I was so unprepared for what I saw.

Where has the time gone?

I feel like I have been waiting for this day to come for a while and it kinda snuck up on me.  It has been 6 months to the day that Little Logan came into my life and I never knew that there was such a loving feeling that was so strong. I absolutely and incredibly love this child more than words can describe. I finally understand why parents with crazy loud annoying toddlers think their kids are adorable and why my parents still like me after what I put them through in high school.  It is the best feeling and it is growing everyday...just like Logan!

The first three months of Logan's life were horrible to say the least. There were good days and mostly ok days but there were a lot of bad days too. I still haven't even fully relaxed and accepted the fact that Logan is pretty healthy because for so long he wasn't. And he still has his bad days where he can't poop or he throws up or he has a strangulated hernia that requires emergency surgery. And I still freak out over the little things too like when he doesn't finish his bottle or take a long nap. I hope that he is growing and getting strong and maybe one day I will relax but then again maybe I never will. Even as I am writing this Grayson asked me if I remembered how we weren't allowed to touch Logan's skin when he was first born because it was like wet tissue paper and would fall right off. And that brought back a million memories and gets me all worried again.

Each day I am just in awe that Logan is here in my life and that the Lord trusts me enough to raise this precious baby. This morning I just sat and stared at him while I fed him. When did he get so big? I mean he literally looks like a normal baby. His legs are longer and he is filling out again in his face. When we left the NICU everyone commented on Logan's double chin but he soon lost that and slimmed down a lot. He hasn't been gaining weight like he is suppose to so we are still fortifying his milk and adding a multivitamin as well. But there is no doubt he is growing. And I just barely noticed. 

I am so happy that Logan has done so well since his last hospital stay. It just goes to prove I was right about his whole bowels being screwed up and worrying like crazy when he first came home. He screamed when he tried to poop and was fussy and wouldn't sleep. Everyone blew me off and said there was nothing wrong. Then he ended up in the emergency room and was booked for immediate surgery. Since he has mostly healed from the surgery he is a different baby. And this whole mother thing is starting to be fun.

I started this post intending to make it short and sweet about Logan's progress but my mind just goes into overdrive. So now back to the point I was trying to get to. Logan is 6 months old and is the cutest little 3 month old ever.

He is now smiling a lot more and does it even when he's not getting his diaper changed.
He is eating about 3 oz. every two to three hours.
He is finally growing out of the newborn size and fits comfortably into his 0-3 month clothes. The 3 month clothes are still a bit too long.
He can track things with his eyes and sort of reaches out for toys.
He goes to sleep around 9 or 10 p.m. and wakes up once in the night to be fed. He is then up at 5 or 6 a.m. and spends an hour grunting and growling while he tries to poop and wake up for the day. He sleeps well in the swing but I am up every single hour to check on him. I even have a little flashlight on my dresser that I shine on him to make sure he isn't blue or uncomfortable.
He takes 30 minute naps in the morning which gives me just enough time to wash bottles or pump, brush my teeth and get dressed.
His eyes are big and beautiful. He never had blue eyes like I thought all babies did. They were dark grey and are now turning more green.
He has lost every lick of hair on his head besides the stuff around his ears. He had such a full head of hair when he was born and now he is almost bald. When he is hot or moving around a lot he looks like a mad scientist with little tufts sticking out the side.
He has pretty much quit breastfeeding (sob) because my milk supply has gone way down since he came home from the hospital. I barely had time to pump while Gray was at work because I was holding Logan all the time and he was still learning how to nurse. I wish now I would have been more persistent with nursing but I was so stuck on getting him the correct amount of milk that he had been taking in the hospital and it was easier to know what he was eating when it's in a bottle.
He has been rolling over from his front to his back since he came home from the hospital but is now trying to go from back to front.
He makes me laugh daily and I cannot wait for more time with my little man!

Love you Logan!

 Logan's first week home from the NICU

 Passport Photo

 Loving his toys

 Melting Mommy's heart

  Slimmed down after being home for 3 months.

Happy 3/6 months Baby Boy!!

Mama Smart

It is always wonderful to have my mom here. She has been incredible these past few months coming and going and helping with Logan. She was there two days after I delivered him and stayed for three weeks. She then came for a few days after Christmas with my dad and then again in February when we thought Logan was going to be coming home (insert major infection following surgery and 10 additional days in the hospital) She also came with my dad in April for Logan's baby blessing and she has now graced us with her presence again this week. I love it and it will be nice to be closer to them soon.

It's funny but I have noticed a few things around here since my mom has been visiting so much. Like how we both leave the cupboard doors open in the kitchen. Gray sometimes gets on my case for doing it but he can't now cause he doesn't know if it was me or my mom! Haha.



She also wakes up at 5:30 am every morning because she is still on Mountain time. It's nice because I can bring Logan out and they can party on and play while I get some more sleep... Bonus!

She likes to cook and is really good at it. Grayson pointed out to me that sometimes when I start a recipe I get distracted or ask a few questions and before long my mom has taken over and finishes the meal. And really I don't mind at all.

Once she rearranged my ziploc containers and for weeks after I couldn't find a single lid that matched up. And then she packed up all my craft stuff and my favorite scissors were MIA until I frantically unpacked everything because I had a thread that was bugging me. She also leaves the toaster out and crumbs on the counter. She will eventually clean it up but it drives me nuts cause I have just trained Gray to wipe up his crumbs. And the worst worst thing ever is how my kitchen looks like a tornado blew through after leaving her alone for an afternoon.

She does my laundry and folds my undies exactly how I like them. She babysits so Gray and I can go on a much needed date. And she encourages me to communicate better with my hubs and to not be dressed like a bag lady when he comes home from work.

She takes me shopping and picks up the tab when I claim I am broke (which I really am) and she buys Logan prizes and clothes cause they are so cute.

She micro manages my dad's office and her other 4 children while she is with me but I hardly notice because she manages to make me feel like I am her main priority. 

She changes poopy diapers and hardly bats an eye when Logan pees on her. She holds Logan when he starts to cry and walks him in circles or long strolls around the neighborhood so he settles down. And she didn't complain when her feet are shredded after a particularly long walk because she really wanted to try out her new shoes. She is patient with him when he refuses to finish his bottle and dresses him in warm outfits so he doesn't get cold. She thinks he is the most adorable baby and she appropriately takes pics of him every couple of hours to send to my family to remind them about how adorable he is. She has kissed and hugged and loved my little baby as much as I have and she proudly accepts the name grandma even though I hardly consider her old enough to be one. She supports me and loves me and still helps me with my hair and I couldn't ask for a better mother! I am so lucky. And my kitchen will recover!

Problem Child...

I knew right away that Logan was going to be a problem child. I mean he had come into my life way too early after I had asked and begged and pleaded with him to not to. I was nowhere near ready for a baby let alone a small, sick one.  I mean I assumed he was small.  All I saw was a little blue foot. I clearly remember that but then the details get muddled. Logan was whisked away by the nurses to a table where they immediately started working on him. The nurse by my bedside was trying to reassure me and get me to calm down. I heard a little squeak. The nurse smiled at me and told me that my baby was trying to cry. I heard the sound again and it was like a small kitten. There was no way that was a baby crying. It was so sad and pathetic. I looked for Logan. He was surrounded by a lot of people including the anesthesiologist. I think Grayson was still beside me holding my hand. I felt much better than before but I was still in total shock about everything. Did I really just have a baby? This couldn't be happening to me. It was all so surreal. I never even considered that I would have a premature baby so I had no clue what was in store. I remember all these people surrounding Logan for quite a while before he was taken from the room. The doctor came in and got ready for me to deliver my placenta. It was ironic because she was so calm and acted like everything was normal. Uh did she realize she had missed the main event?

I remember my placenta taking FOREVER to come out. It took longer than it did to deliver Logan and by then I was anxious and nervous and freaking out all over again. I called my mom and told her I had my baby. I could hear the worry in her voice and she told me she would get a flight the next day. Grayson called his family and then left to go be with Logan. I was able to go see my baby a little later. He was covered in saran wrap and was so so tiny. I put my finger under his hand and his whole hand fit around my first knuckle. His palm was the size of a nickle.  I then had to go back to bed but the nurses promised to let me see Logan again before he left. There was a transport team on its way because he had to go to a different hospital where they had the staff and equipment to help him. The hospital where I delivered didn't have a breathing tube small enough for Logan so they had to wait for the transport team to come before they could hook him up to a ventilator. The whole time they had a small oxygen mask over him. It covered his whole head because he was so little.  When I saw Logan again he was in a huge incubator with a tube down his throat. I cried because he looked so bad. His skin was see through and I could see his heart beating on his chest. Every time it beat his chest sunk down around his heart and he looked hollow. They were taking Logan away and Grayson wanted a picture of his new little family. I was appalled. There was no way I was going to take a picture with this small baby. It was a waste of time. The nurses and doctors had work to do. They had to save Logan because he was not doing well at all. I finally agreed to smile for a couple pictures and then Logan was gone.  Grayson left shortly after to go with Logan and then I was alone.

I felt so weird. I hadn't connected yet with this child but I felt miserable for him. He was struggling to breath and live and I was so sad that he was hurting so much. But at the same time I didn't really understand that Logan was mine. I didn't know if he was going to survive and I didn't want to get attached.  I never got to hold Logan on my chest and have that bonding moment that we had been told about just that morning. I had never felt so utterly defeated and empty. I was by myself and I finally just had a good long cry. I sobbed. I was sore from the delivery and my heart was just broken. I cried for the three and half months of pregnancy I would now miss and for the mornings of sleeping in I wouldn't get anymore. I cried for the Christmas holiday we would surely miss at home now and I cried for all the things that would never get done. But mostly I cried for Logan. He wasn't Logan yet...he didn't have a name. He was just a poor, sad little baby that came too soon. And I wasn't ready.

 

And then there were three...

There is a part of me that is still a little scared inside. I think that is why I have avoided sharing Logan's story in full detail. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to realize that the little peanut snoring next to me on the couch is actually mine. He almost wasn't.

I think there were a lot of people in our lives who knew how seriously ill and fragile Logan was. There were also a lot of people who thought I was overreacting and freaking out about nothing. The fact of the matter is (oh i love a good cliche now and then) that your baby does not spend 5 weeks on a ventilator if he is ok. He does not spend 93 days in the NICU if he is healthy. Even when you finally get him home, he is still delicate and still sick. I mean he is so super fragile and small that even a little bitty cold could send him back to the hospital. So it's scary...and I am doing the best I can.

People think I am weird cause I never take Logan out and that I am so paranoid about someone coughing or sneezing close to him. I guess the only way for them to understand is to hear about it and learn what was really going on. And I seriously need to get Logan's story out of my system. There are so many thoughts and feelings that our little family went through in these past few months and I hope that writing them down will help bring closure to the whole thing. The pain, the sadness, the relief, the joy. It's all inside me and I need tell it.

I remember finding out I was pregnant and how apprehensive and totally excited I was. I remember finding out we were having a boy and how I cried a little (don't judge. i grew up in a house of girls...i knew nothing about boys except that they pee standing up) I remember waiting for my belly to finally pop and how nervous I was getting about having a baby. And then I remember my belly never really popping because my baby came too early. I remember that there was no more time left to think or dream about him because he was here and he wasn't well at all. Then I couldn't really remember much at all. All those days and nights in the NICU gave me a lot of time to think. What happened? What did I do wrong? Why didn't I go to the hospital sooner? Why did I go to the gym when I felt so bad? Was it all the frozen lemonade I drank for 3 straight months? Was it all the water I didn't drink? The guilt was so immense that I was actually disgusted with myself for not being more alert. For not being one with my womb and knowing that something was terribly wrong. I am still trying to figure it out in my mind but it still doesn't make sense. By telling Logan's story I hope it will.

The day before I had Logan I felt yucky. Sort of like stomach flu yucky with a few unscheduled trips to the bathroom...no big deal, right? I had been so sick for the first 4 months and I was finally starting to feel good again so I brushed it aside. I was even eating normal food again and was actually craving fruit (maybe that was a sign that something was amiss) I woke up Sunday morning with cramps and went back to bed while Gray went to church. A couple hours later I hauled myself up and got ready to go to the hospital for our pregnancy tour. Yup...pregnancy tour. The tour you go on when you are still months away from giving birth. I still felt crampy in my stomach but kept it to myself. Two weeks earlier I had been in such intense pain that I thought I was going to collapse in the toilet paper aisle at Costco so I went to the OB to make sure everything was ok. I felt like a sissy when she told me everything was fine and to just keep on. So when I started feeling the same way again I ignored it. I told myself that being pregnant kinda sucked sometimes and I just needed to man up. And here is a big secret... in real life I am a total wimp! No joke! I whine and complain at the slightest discomfort and while I try not to be a drag I have to make sure everyone knows I am feeling bad. For some reason that day I really didn't say much. We did the whole tour thing and all I wanted to do was sit down. I was getting really uncomfortable. When we went to look at the birthing rooms, the nurse explained that once we had our babies they would immediately be put on our chests. It was a time for bonding that both mom and baby desperately needed. It brought tears to my eyes thinking about that moment. The moment when everything would make sense and be worth all the pain. I wanted that moment to be so special and I tried to imagine what it would be like. As we were leaving the hospital, a few nurses commented on what a good looking group we were. They wished us well and I said I would see them all again in 3 months.

I can't really recall much of what happened that afternoon. I had a nap and that was the only time I wasn't hurting. After I woke up I must have made dinner or something but all that I remember is that Gray and I started to watch this documentary about babies being born in America and how everyone is pro epidural. It was all about midwives and how it is natural for a baby to be born under water. I was so over it. By that point I was in quite a bit of pain so I decided to get in the bath. As I was getting ready to get in I noticed a little spotting. I showed Gray and he said that was fine. I decided to proceed with my tub. As I sat down in the warm water I noticed some more blood and then there was a lot. I called my mom and asked her what she thought. It was almost 8:00pm and she advised me to call the doctor. I spoke to the answering service lady and she told me that she would have the on call doctor get back to me. When she called she asked me where I was and told me I needed to go to the closest hospital and she would meet us there. I hung up and washed my hair. Looking back I could have kicked my own butt because those last few moments were precious and I should have gone faster. As we drove to the hospital I finally started to worry. The pain was really bad by then and at a red light I told Grayson to run it. Of course he didn't because it's against the law or something but I think now that he would have if he knew what was happening. Anyway we made our way to the hospital and were buzzed in at the birth center. The nurses asked me what was wrong and I told them I was in pain and kind of bleeding and that some doctor was on her way. They led me to a room and told me to wait on the bed. It seemed like forever but was probably only 5 minutes. A nurse came in and gave me a gown to change into. My pride and modesty left me in an instant. I ripped my clothes off and got back on the bed. I was bleeding more now and getting nervous. I asked Gray a million times where the nurses were. I needed help. Something wasn't right. I hurt and there was more blood. I could feel it running down my legs now and knew it was getting serious. Another nurse came in and started hooking me up to a fetal monitor. It was silent in the room while we waited to hear the baby's heartbeat. At first we didn't. I started to get teary eyed and squeezed Gray's hand. I finally relaxed when I heard a heartbeat but the nurse informed me that it was my own. I panicked. Where was my baby? Didn't they know that he had to be in there? Did they understand that he had to be there? I never realized how badly I wanted this child until I thought he wasn't alive. I cried. The nurse hooked up another monitor and then we heard it. A little flutter heartbeat. I calmed down right away because everything was fine. Surely they would give me something to stop the bleeding. I would spend the night in the hospital and eat red hospital jello. However someone had to stop the pain. I couldn't eat if I was in pain.

Then everything fell apart. One nurse wanted to check me out. She was on the phone with the doctor and said she wasn't going to see if I was dilated. The doctor told her to anyway. She put the phone down and lifted the sheet. She quickly put it down and said that I was fully dilated. Wait what? They needed to stop that fast because people that are fully dilated have babies and I wasn't having my baby. I was only 26 weeks pregnant. I still had 3.5 months to grow my belly and I still had to feel my baby get the hiccups and kick me.  Someone was starting to give me an IV and I was telling everyone that the baby had to stay inside. He wasn't ready. He couldn't come out.

Before this experience I knew very little about premature babies. My dad was a few weeks early and I had a cousin that was premature but they were fine now. I even thought the NICU was a place where full term sick babies went. I didn't know you could have a baby at 26 weeks. I didn't know that a baby could survive being born that early. All this was running through my mind as I squeezed Gray's hand and totally lost it. I kept tell anyone who would listen that they had to keep him inside. I repeated over and over again that he couldn't come, that he wasn't ready, it was too early, I wasn't ready.

By then I was huffing and puffing. My mouth was dry. I was in immense pain and someone was telling me to breath. Gray said over and over again that it was going to be ok. I felt lightheaded and someone put an oxygen mask over my face. I thought those things pushed air into you but I didn't feel anything different. Where was my oxygen? The nurse finally finished with the IV just as the other one yelled at me to calm down. She yelled again and told me to look at her. I looked at Grayson. Again she told me to look at her. I did and she screamed for me to calm down. Gray was still telling me it would be ok, it would be ok and I was still saying it was too early too early too early. The nurse told me to slow my breathing down and focus. Gray said it would be ok. I finally just yelled that it was obviously not going to be ok. I was hurting so much and telling them to keep the baby in. The next moment I was yelling for them to take the baby out. I was delirious in pain and just wanted everything to be over. They kept telling me to stop pushing and I tried to tell them I wasn't but then my body clenched up and pushed. I felt a gush of something wet and I screamed. I asked if that was the baby because there was a huge relief of pressure. I seriously thought my baby had shot out of me! I was told that was just my water breaking which was reassuring to hear cause that meant my baby was still inside and they could still stop him from coming out.

At this point it gets a little blurry. Everything started hurting again and I was off yelling again. They really needed to get the baby out. I knew that was wrong. I knew he shouldn't come out but at the time it was all I could think of. By then they were telling me to push and I was so out of it that I questioned how the nurses could ask me to breath and push at the same time. I tried to remember what I knew about giving birth but I basically knew nothing. Our birthing classes were two months away and I never saw anyone have a baby like this on TV. But I pushed or tried to. It was insane. I felt like I was splitting in two. This was happening too fast. We had only been at the hospital for half an hour. The doctor wasn't even there yet. PUSH. I tried to breath but couldn't catch my breath and then my body clenched again. I screamed.

And then he was out. My baby was here...

Little Logan  

26.2 weeks

1 lb. 15 oz.

First Family Photo

Finally! It is my turn to brag about my baby! Do you know how long I have wanted to do that? However there wasn't much to talk about when Logan was first born. Besides the fact that it was overwhelmingly traumatic and unbelievable, I imagined conversations would go
something like this:
'Your baby was 7 lbs 12 oz at birth? Wow mine was 1 lbs 15 oz. You delivered a tank' or
'Your baby could breath on his own right away? You mean it's not normal for the nurse to bag him for two hours while they wait for the transport team to arrive with a small enough ventilator tube? Crazy...'

In my mind I have been writing Logan's birth story for almost three months. In reality it is a 93 day long birth story so it is bound to be long and complex and while I do want to share that, I still am dealing with a lot of feelings...
For example, it was hard not to smack some people in the face for complaining about a crying baby in the middle of the night or a toddler that was misbehaving because at the time I would have given my whole being to be able to just hold my baby and know that he was going to survive. But since I can hold him now (all the time...) and I know that he is better, I am going to brag...a lot!

Today Logan is 4 months old! It has been a long journey and there were moments when I didn't know if we would get here...as in home together, mostly healthy and completely happy. He has been a joy in our lives from the beginning but this past month has been truly amazing.

Logan now weighs 8 lbs. 4 oz. He has almost gained 7 lbs since he was born. He is incredibly short...his legs barely make it to the knees in most of his pants and sleepers and it's funny to see him squirming because there is like 4 inches of extra fabric flopping around.

He has big blue, green, brown eyes and he has started focusing and looking right at us for a few minutes. He has so much brown hair all over his head with a small area in the back that had thinned out but is now growing back. I didn't think he would get that baby bald spot in the back because he was on his tummy a lot in the NICU and I only noticed it when we were home from the hospital. He has even started to get a little bit of bed head now when he sleeps on my chest or rolls around. It is adorable. There are a few bumps on his scalp from when he had the IVs in but those are slowly disappearing. He also has small little scars on his arms from all the pokes and IVs. His little foot looks like he stepped on a pin cushion. There was a few days where he would get stabbed every three hours...EVERY 3 HOURS. The doctors wanted to check his blood gas to make sure he was getting enough oxygen into his blood. I see those little scars now and remember the nightmare of watching him wince and silent cry every time they poked him. But I am getting distracted now.

We always put him in a little pair of mitties because he loves to scratch his face and poke his eyes. Even when he was just days old he would get his hands up to his face but his fingernails were paper thin and the size of a pin head so we didn't worry about it them then. There were other things on our mind.

He moves and shakes whenever he is awake and has even mastered the roll over! I can't believe that when he was only 2.5 weeks old (corrected age) he rolled over during tummy time. And although he is four months old it's not like he was able to work on any developmental skills in the NICU. He mostly just slept and ate. I seriously am considering contacting the world record people on this one.

He cries when we put him down so I end up holding him most of the day. There have been a few rare moments when Gray has made me try to let Logan cry it out but the longest I have lasted is 5 minutes. I think after almost three months of not being held has taken its toll on him and I love to cuddle him close anyway...most of the time. He doesn't really sleep well at night yet but I am trying to be patient. Most nights we fall asleep on the couch and then I carefully transfer him to his crib. We have a small mini bed that we borrowed from some friends and he sleeps in that inside his crib.

Logan still has to take a bottle for most every feed because he needs fortification to grow and he is anemic so he takes a multivitamin with breast milk at lunch time. He still has some edema around his eyes and has a new hernia. He hasn't even healed from the last hernia surgery and we are already preparing ourselves for another one. The worst WORST thing in the world is watching surgeons wheel your little baby away to cut him open. I am seriously considering waiting until we go back to Canada to get it done because last time he got so infected and so sick from his surgery that we were in the NICU for another week and a half.

He is still so little to me. He wears size 1 diapers but only because his hernia is so big that the newborn diapers don't hold everything in anymore. We have to wrap the diapers around pretty tightly and even then when we lift him up the diaper falls down because he is so skinny. Everyone comments on his double chin which is cute but seriously the only fat on him.

I have now reread this post and I realize it is totally random. There are a lot of Logan facts mixed in with a lot of memories. I want to get down every little fact about him so I remember but most of his life so far has been spent in the hospital and its hard to separate the growing from the healing. Either way Logan is such a blessing to us. It is a miracle that he is alive and home with us. People think I exaggerate how sick Logan was but the fact is when you get right down to it he almost didn't make it. We were on the last ventilator and had no other options if that did not work. He was small and ill and helpless. Grayson down played a lot of it because that is how he dealt with it. I remember his mom calling every night and he would tell her that Logan was doing ok and I was doing ok. I just wanted to scream out loud that Logan wasn't doing well, that he was really doing very poorly and I was a complete mess. There were people who kept on congratulating us and I couldn't believe it. What were they congratulating me for? Having an incompetent cervix? Delivering a micro baby that might not survive? I guess it really is hard to explain and this is not the time to start.

My baby is home. My baby is growing. My baby is all mine. And while there are sleepless nights and long, lonely days I wouldn't trade them for anything. Logan is my life now and I love my life!

I'm Sorry...

Dear Blog:

I'm sorry.

I have neglected you for far too long.

I have a good excuse though.

I have been very busy...

WAITING...
WATCHING...
PRAYING...
CRYING...
LOVING...
LEARNING...

HOPING...

ENJOYING...CUDDLING...

KISSING...

AND REJOICING!!

You see, I was very busy...

RAISING A MIRACLE!!