Monkey See, Monkey Do

Eli's Isolette has gotten a little sprucing up thanks to his Auntie Mara, Uncle Chuck and cousin Dottie. He is very fond of the parrot (Hawkney and Shosi are thrilled) and the lion, but he wasn't so sure about the monkey, it seems. :-)

Oh my darlin'...

Yesterday, we said goodbye to our other favorite baby in the NICU, little Miss Clementine. We have grown quite fond of our wee friend, and of her parents, Nikki and Jason, and we will certainly miss them in the NICU (though we have already started to plan play dates!). Clem was born exactly one month before Eli at almost the same gestational age and weight. We are hopeful that one month from now we will be heading through that exit door too.

Daddy Kangaroo

A number of you have asked me what it's like to hold Eli. The short answer is, Wonderful. The long answer is, of course, a bit more complex. Initially, it's scary, because for a nurse to move Eli from his incubator to my chest requires disconnecting his ventilator for a half a minute or so. He can breathe on his own, but not nearly as well, and by the time we nestle him into my arms and drape a blanket over him his limbs can feel limp. "Breathe, Daddy," the nurse will say to me, seeing how stressed I've become. Thankfully, once the ventilator has been reattached (and taped to my arm or shoulder), Eli's breathing picks up and the strength returns to his body. At this point, dad and son settle in for some great one-on-one time and I'm flush with the singular joy of a new father holding his little child for one of the first times.

The Thinker

Like most new parents, Paul and I are convinced that our little Eli is among the most beautiful and miraculous creatures alive. Now we are sure he is among the smartest too. We wonder what he was thinking as he struck this pose. Most likely, he was pondering his recent diaper change. But maybe, just maybe, he was devising a solution to the world economic crisis.

Getting Bigger

Adjustments

I was struck the other day by how accustomed Paul and I have gotten to the strange and unnatural world of the NICU. It hit me when seeing the expression on a friend's face when she was visiting Eli for the first time. An alarm started beeping, signaling Eli was "desatting," a fairly common occurrence in which the level of oxygen in his blood drops slightly. I stood by calmly as one of the nurses, equally calmly, repositioned Eli and fiddled with a couple of dials, boosting his oxygen back to normal. My friend looked as if she were going to have a heart attack. For a moment, I was taken aback; then I realized this must be what I used to look like during our early days in the NICU. Back then, it seemed impossible that we could ever get used to this environment of incubators and bleating round-the-clock monitors in which we have to ask permission to hold our baby. But, somehow, we have.

I now understand the fear that reappears in the eyes of other NICU parents we've gotten to know when they're told, suddenly in some cases, that their babies are ready to go home. I realize how scary it will be when there are no monitors, no alarms, no highly trained doctors and nurses watching Eli's every breath. It will be a major adjustment, albeit a joyous one. And it's one I'm certain we can make, because if we can get through this we can get through anything.

A Day in The Life of Eli