April 18th

I've started and stopped this blog post more times than I care to count. There has been this tension in my heart after every trauma I've gone through to keep my privacy and yet to have full understanding from others, and my friends, those two things don't always go hand in hand. There have been certain situations I've kept private, but for some reason my miscarriage and Wellingtons surgery are things I feel convicted to share. These are words I've cried over, and they took so much torturous work to get out, but when I did there was a relief. When I summarize these events in written words I can't help but see the thread of God's grace through it, and it's beautiful. I worship a God makes our trauma beautiful, and although sometimes I don't FEEL like that is true...once I've written about the trauma I've experienced I can't help but see His glory resting not far from the surface. 

So, this story....well it’s long, and there’s some pictures that may be disturbing (really they’re just sad) so consider yourself warned. 

                                                   (Pictured: the day before his surgery)

At 1 am on April 18th Wellington started crying. Assuming he was hungry I went to feed him and he wouldn’t nurse. I rocked him and shushed as he continued to scream, falling asleep for a minute here and there before waking up again. 

I remember holding him and singing "You'll be in my Heart" from Tarzan, and telling him about his baby cousin Lewis, who we just found out was a boy that evening. Both the thought of that event and that song leave my heart feeling shaken now.

Multiple times I tried to feed Wellington that night with no luck. As the worry set in I began to cry. Peter woke up, and took Wellington from me trying to get him to calm down. I should've taken those moments to rest, but all I could do was stare at my husband holding my crying baby, and cry myself.

I told Peter that every part of my body was screaming at me telling me "You're starving your baby!" Peter tried to console me, but until Wellington would eat I knew I’d be a mess. Why wouldn’t he eat? It had been hours at this point. I remembered our hospital discharge papers saying that if he went more than 6hrs without eating to call, so I watched the clock, at 6am I’d call if he hadn’t eaten. 

I remember feeling relieved when he spit up a little. Maybe that was the problem, but no he continued to scream. 

At 5am, one hour before I was going to call, Wellington projectile vomited as Peter held him. It was a lot of vomit....and more startling it was green. This couldn’t be good, but maybe he’d calm down now. No, he continued to vomit again this time it also came out his nose causing him to stop breathing. We used the bulb suction to unblock his airways again and again as this continued to happen.

I freaked out, screaming, crying, and apologizing to Peter all in one breath because I knew I was making the situation worse. I was helpless as I watched my 12 day old baby vomited and struggle to breath over and over again, and to be honest in my tired-blurred-freaking-out thoughts I thought I was watching my baby die.

In between a bout of vomit we tried to decide what to do. I wanted to call an ambulance, but he seemed better and was breathing so Peter had me call the nurse consulting line. 

The nurse was very calm, as I explained what was going on in between sobs, she soon asked how far we were from Mary Bridge Children’s hospital. We were about 45 min away I responded, feeling horrified at the prospect of strapping my vomiting newborn into a car seat for any amount of time. I asked her if I should call an ambulance instead, but she assured me that he would be fine as long as we left right away.

We started changing Wellington, who was covered in the green mucus he had been vomiting, and getting ready ourselves for the drive to Mary Bridge. It took multiple tries to get Wellington into the car seat as he kept throwing up, and at some point I just gave up trying to change him out of the vomit soaked clothes, and put burp clothes around him. This is when I realized I couldn't be the one sitting next to him in the back. I was a mess, and didn't trust myself to keep my baby breathing in the back seat, which was a horrible feeling but made me so grateful that my husband was calm. Thankfully Peter agreed, after some hesitation, to let me drive to Mary Bridge and he'd sit in the back with Wellington.

It felt like a lifetime before we were on the road, but in reality it maybe took 10 minutes from hanging up with the nurse until we were driving. 

There was a surprising amount of traffic for 5:45am, but on I-5 is any traffic really ever surprising? I was so tired, and so scared so I tried to keep my mind occupied by singing, drowning out the sounds of the suction bulb helping my son breath in the backseat, and just focus on driving.

We were literally doing all we could to help Wellington, but I felt like I wasn't doing enough.

I'm sure I have a piece of paper somewhere that says our arrival time at the ER, but the first time I looked at a clock was after 6 am. After we checked in it wasn't long until we were taken back, and we barley described his symptoms before Wellington was hooked up to all sorts of monitors, and an IV was put in. They told us his temperature was in the 95's and that was almost worse than having a fever. I was relieved by how calm Wellington was through all the pokes, as I didn't think I could handle him screaming in pain, but then they told me it was because he was lethargic and that wasn't a good thing. The blood drained from my face. "Oh God, please let us leave this hospital with a baby." I pleaded internally. I knew we had gotten Wellington to the safest place he could be, but there was still so much up in the air, what was wrong?

So many people flooded in and out of the room in that first hour: between shift change and all the assessments Wellington needed there was probably at least 20 staff that we saw in our tiny room.

At last a doctor came in, and after looking at Wellington and our many green stained burp clothes, he explained a couple of options of what could be going on:

1. Pyloric stenosis: which is when the valve that connects the stomach to the intestines becomes over muscular and doesn't allow food to go down so it comes up. This is fixed by a simple through the mouth surgery to loosen the muscle. I liked this option, and it made sense.

2. Meningitis: which is am inflammation of brain and spinal cord membranes, typically caused by an infection. Diagnosing this requires a spinal tap, and they asked us to sign a consent form to have that done as soon as possible.

3. Malrotation: which is an intestinal abnormality that can happen early in pregnancy when a baby's intestines don't form into a coil in the abdomen. Malrotation means that the intestines (or bowel) are twisting, which can cause obstruction (blockage). This is serious, and requires emergency surgery as the obstruction cuts off blood supply to the colon and causes the colon, and eventually the baby to die.

The 4th option was not finding a cause, and going home with a sick baby...which to be honest sounded worse than any surgery. 

It was some time after this I thought to text our parents. It was after 7am, and I knew at least our Dads would be up. I didn't have much time, but I wrote each one of them:

"Please be praying. We are at Mary Bridge

Children's Hospital with Wellington.

He's been projectile vomiting green,

and we are trying to figure out what's wrong."

As grandparents I can't imagine how horrifying that text was. Their 22 year old kids had only been parents for only 12 days, and now they where parents of a baby in the hospital.

Enter Dr. Barlow, in the blur of everything that was happening a man in scrubs, an overcoat, and a coffee in hand entered our room. We didn't know then, but he was called in specifically to see Wellington. Dr. Barlow is a pediatric surgeon, and he knew much better than we did that Wellington was likely in need of his help.

This whole horrible morning is overshadowed with the grace of how amazing Dr. Barlow was/is. He brought confidence, and empathy to the facts he presented in a way that made us trust him and feel understood. He repeated the possible causes of Wellington's throwing up, with the same options as the previous Doctor had presented to us.

He explained that they were going to do a test for Malrotation first, as that was the most serious of the possibilities so that needed to be ruled out first. They were going to inject a dye into Wellington and then x-ray him to see how his intestines looked. 

Peter went alone with Wellington to this test, and I stayed behind to pump. This was a very hard, but necessary choice, and I regretted it the moment I was done pumping, just sitting in our ER room alone.

I knew something was wrong when Dr. Barlow beat Peter and Wellington back to the room. He sat down next to me and said. "It's malrotation...Do you need a moment to process?" I took and deep breath, and said "No" I wanted to know the details, I wanted to know what needed to happen. I don't remember the exact words he used, but I heard things like. "Surgery, large incision, appendix removal, we need to act quickly, fixable, and I know what I'm doing."

I stopped him before he was done, and asked. "Worst case outcome of this surgery......I'm still going home with a baby, right?"

He smiled sympathetically and said. "Absolutely, worst case scenario, if we act quickly, is part of the colon has died. If that has happened Wellington will have a stoma (bag outside his body to collect stool) for the rest of his life, but he'll be perfect normal otherwise. I wouldn't lie to you, and the odds are he's going to be perfectly fine." 

I didn't need to hear anything else. There was a problem, and it was going to get fixed.

They wheeled Wellington back in the room, and I immediately went to him. He was sleeping, which wasn't surprising. Wellington was up all night making sure we got him here, and now that he was safe he was exhausted. 

I stood by his bed, not taking my eyes off my baby as Peter and I discussed the news. Tears silently falling down my cheeks, as I felt the enormity of my baby having surgery. I turned to Peter and told him in the heat of my sorrow. "I can't be pregnant again. My body rejected the first baby, and now it put Wellingtons intestines together wrong. My body is supposed to be a safe place for my babies, and instead it's killing them."

Peter gave me a half amused smile, and hugged me from the side as we looked over Wellington. "This is nothing you did, and we aren't deciding anything like that right now."

I believe this is around when I sent this next text to our parents:

"He has malrotation of the intestines.

They're taking him back for surgery soon."

Not even two hours after we had arrived in the ER, Wellington was being wheeled back into the place where he would have his surgery. (This basically looked like a lobby, full of busy nurses, and discarded wheel chairs.)

A nurse came over to us to go over the procedure, but since we didn't have any questions, she spent most of her time telling us the complicated series of turns and elevators we'd need to take to get to the surgical waiting area. We would need to leave him.

I was a mess in anticipation, but I wasn't as afraid as I thought I would be had I been. Gods hand held me together, just like he was holding and protecting my baby.

I decided to take a picture of Wellington. I didn't want to, he looked so sad, but I knew someday he would wonder about this day that gave him his scar. I was thanking God he wouldn't remember it, but I'm sure he'd want to hear about it.

                   (Pictured: moments before surgery aka. the picture I didn't want to take)

                   (P.S. The redness is from the heat lamp he was under.)

Dr Barlow (who was wearing as much CUBS themed gear as is available to a surgeon) and a team of nurses came to wheel Wellington away. We were asked for the millionth time if we had any questions, and Dr Barlow assured us that'd he'd keep us updated, but that no news usually was good news. He said. "When I'm in the O.R all I'm thinking about is your baby, and saving his life. So the less time I'm spending updating you, the more I'm focusing on him."

It was difficult to lean over the high bed, and wires to kiss Wellingtons little cheek, but I did it. His cheek still smelled just like his sweet little newborn self, and that was comforting and heartbreaking all at the same time.

We walked away. Holding hands, carrying a diaper bag, and car seat but no baby. The tone of my voice didn't match the tears on my face, as I talked to Peter, and I realized I was coping by trying to sound almost too normal. This horrible, awful night/morning was more than I could process. This was the first time we were without our baby.

It was around 8:30 am when we made it to the waiting room, this is the room where I realized we were parents of a baby getting surgery. In the bustle of finding outlets, a quiet corner, coffee, and calling my mom I didn't have much time for tears. Talking to my Mom always brings out the strongest/least emotional voice in me anyways, but as soon as all was quiet again and we were waiting, the tears started again. Peter's parents texted us that they were on their way.

Around 9:15 am we got called up the the desk to take a call from a nurse saying "Wellington is doing great, and they'll be closing him up soon." Not 10 minutes later we were called back to a scary tiny room, one of those room that's sole purpose was to give new to family members. Although the nurse had just said he was fine, I was still a ball of nerves as we sat in that tiny room for what felt like hours. Peter's parents joined us shortly before Dr. Barlow entered our room.

I remember him taking in the tiny room filled to the brim with anxious faces, clutching baby supplies without a baby. He was very quick to say that Wellington was fine, and the surgery has some unexpected twists but Wellington was going to be fine.

The first unexpected twist was that he didn't have malrotation after all. He had a intestinal volvulus (witch basically means twist or knot) which made his intestines back up and looked like a malrotation on the x-ray. 

Dr Barlow described untwisting the volvulus, and watching as his "angry looking" intestines resumed regular blood flow. He then checked his entire digestions track (stomach, kidneys, ect...), took out his appendix, and closed him back up. The surgery had been completely successful, and Wellington was going to be ok.

However his short comment before he left the room has stuck with me most of all from the conversation. "Yeah, six hours later and he wouldn't have made it."

The next 6 days of our hospital stay was very hard, and like any emotional roller coaster a tad blurry in memory, but here are some of the biggest things that stick out from those days.

• Seeing Wellington for the First Time 

                                                    (Picture: Seeing Wellington for the first time post surgery)

After another hour or so of waiting we were able to go see Wellington in his PICU room (pediatric intensive care unit.) He was still on a ventilator, had an NG tube sucking out the bile from his stomach, a PIC line, blood pressure cuff, IV for pain medication, and just so many wires hooked up to monitors. Through all that I marveled at the cutest (maybe a little swollen) baby I've ever seen with so many tubes/wires. He was our Wellington, and as sad as all this was I couldn't help but stand there and just soak in the sight of him.

                                                    (Pictured: Peter and Elisabeth with Wellington post surgery)

                                                    (Pictured: after he got the breathing tube out)

• Staying in the "Tree House"

One of the most difficult parts of Wellingtons hospital stay was leaving him every night so we could sleep. The hospital has a designated "hotel" for family of children in the hospital called the "tree house." 

It wasn't long before the Doctors recommended that we ask to get a room, and get some much needed sleep. It was so nice to have a bed and shower to go to, but leaving Wellington was THE WORST. Every night he was in the hospital I would agonize whether to brave it on the pull out couch or leave. My heart and head would battle it out until I got too tired to fight it.

We would typically leave around 9 pm, and wake up to come back around 4 am....that's all I could stand to leave, and all I could bring myself to ask of those watching him.

• Hospital baby-siting 

Which brings up to everyone who watched Wellington so we could sleep. Peter's Parents, and My Mom + Sarah took turns. Every other night one set would come and watch/hold him all night long. They sang to him, brought us food, advocated for him to the medical staff, held him while he was crying from recovery pains, and were just a life saver! We are so thankful to look back at the grace of trusted arms to hold our baby so we could function.

                                                    (Pictured: Grandma Upton on holding duty)

• The Support

From our family, to Facebook well wishers, to nurses, to people we didn't even know who were praying; we felt so supported in the hospital. Its a hard experience, and the loneliness of it was lessened by the outpouring of love everyone showed our family. If you were one of those people we wrote you a public thank you card HERE.

• Getting to hold Wellington a lot

There was only a 24-hour period of time after his surgery where we were unable to hold Wellington (as he was hooked up to oxygen) but it felt like SO long. Once we were able to hold him (and all his tubes/wires with him) he was, no joke, held for the next 5 days. We put him in his bed to change his diaper or move rooms, but other than that someone was holding him.

It was a precious time, and my sore arms were so thankful for the weight of him. 

(Pictured: Holding him for the first time)

• The Process of Recovery

There is so much watching and waiting in the hospital, especially for little ones. The Doctors and nurses were so cautious with Wellington's recovery, and slowly removed each tube, monitor, introduced food, and checked on him every 3 hours for over 6 days.

• Sock Hands

                                                    (Pictured: NG tube taped to face, and sock hand)

Once he was more aware they had to protect his tube/wires from his curious baby hands. (which did pull out his NG tube once) 

This was managed by placing socks over his hands, and it was so sad that he couldn't touch his face (which is something I think he did in utero a lot.) As soon as the socks were taken off his hands shot straight up to his face, and he was so happy.

• Our Shopping "Date"

About 4 days in Peter's parents were gracious enough to come early so Peter and I could go get dinner together. To any parents that have a child in the hospital I would highly recommend you do this! It was so nice to reconnect, do something normal, and eat non-hospital food. Outback Steakhouse for the win.

• Taking Our First Time Home buyer's class

If having our first baby, and then an emergency surgery wasn't enough..we were also in the process of buying our first house during this time. In fact there was an online class that we needed to take in order to be approved for our loan, and both of us did it in the hospital. It took us almost all day, and it was stressful, but we did it!

• Elisabeth ended up in the ER

Because one person in the hospital is never enough, I ended up going to the ER to get checked out on the 3rd day of Wellington staying in the hospital. It was so hard to tell what symptoms were stress and what were worrisome, but thankfully I was fine and released after an ultrasound and some IV fluids.

• Taking him home

Wellingtons health and safety was our #1 priority though, and made the days of watching and waiting feel purposeful. Once Wellington was eating, and digesting properly they released us from the Hospital on April 24th (exactly 1 year after we lost our first pregnancy).

I really do think Peter and I were close to a mental breakdown right before we were released from the Hospital. Being our introverted selves hospital life was beyond draining, and we were both struggling, but it was wonderful finally being able to take our baby home.

Today Wellington is thriving! He had some motor skill delay (which his OT says might be more due to his temperament) but he passed his Post Op appointments with flying colors! Gaining a pound a week for a month after his surgery!

His scar has healed so well, and I don't even notice it when I change him anymore. As an adult I think his scar will likely be smaller than his pinky finger, but I hope it holds a big significance to him. When he was helpless and unable to fend for himself...it was then that God held him and saved his life, and I hope that is what he thinks of every time he sees his scar.

(pictured: 1 month post surgery and 12 months post surgery.)

#surgery #childinhospital #baby #2weeksold