The Longest Week

The call came in last Wednesday early in the morning. A panicked call from my brother-in-law.

By Wednesday evening, the babies were born. Baby O came first. Twelve and a quarter inches long, three pounds. Baby K followed within a few minutes. Twelve and a half inches long, three pounds. She let out a healthy scream in the delivery room.

Baby O has huge feet in comparison to the rest of his tiny body. He wears the tiniest Pampers you've ever seen. Every time a nurse pushes his legs together into a fetal position, he flails them out, always stretching them.

Baby K loves to suck on her pacifier. It calms her down. She sleeps with her arms up over head. She always opens her eyes when her mama walks into the room.

Baby O was immediately intubated after his birth and had more than one blood transfusion before he was 72 hours old. He has a slight bleed in his brain. His eyes are still fused together. Baby K has a persistent heart murmur. She was intubated the day after her birth.

Their nervous systems aren't fully developed enough to allow anyone to touch or cuddle them. Their mama cries when they cry. Which is a lot. Baby O cries constantly unless there's a slight bit of morphine in his IV.

Their mama was 28 weeks pregnant last Wednesday. Now her babies are one week old.

I can't tell you how painful this has been for our family. The NICU is a scary place. Those babies are sick. Some of them are not going to live. Please think of them, send them good thoughts. My niece and nephew are not the only ones with families pacing in the hallways, with parents who can't take an easy breath, with aunts and uncles refreshing care pages every hour. Those littlest ones, they can't tell us what's wrong, what hurts, and that hurts.

***Yes, BB also had a follow-up appointment last week at Mayo. The news wasn't particularly good, but it pales in comparison to the crisis of these Twinkies. He'll live. Most likely.