Sneaky Little...

Last night, I was really worried about my sister. She was having a long labor and my parents had not heard anything all day. Right after I posted that entery, she called me, telling me her new son (who I will call Moose on the blog) was born arounf 8:30 last night. He's a BIG little dude, almost eleven pounds!

Unfortunatly, Moose was in the NICU because he was having trouble breathing. I spoke to a good friend, a VBAC mom herself and mother to a Giant Monster Baby, who said trouble breathing was normal for big babies and c/s babies, which I knew. I told myself Moose was just having trouble transitioning after a long labor.

We were busy today and had a meeting with our SLP at Bass Pro Shop, a place Georgie loves. I couldn't get Moose off my mind, partially because I was worried and because I kept having a vision of this (not so) little baby hooked up to a ventilator. In my mind's eye, I saw Georgie as I first saw him in the NICU- sprawled out with tubes and wires and beeping monitors. Then it would flip to Moose. I kept trying to take that tube out of the "Moose in my mind's eye." Didn't work.

I finally called my mother around noon. Getting a straight answer from anyone in this family is like pulling teeth. Pulling INFECTED teeth. PAINFUL. The short story is that he was on either a high pressure nasal cannuala OR an osolatting vent OR the "space helment."


For the record, this is a normal vent.

That there is the nasal cannula.

This is a bad picture of the space helment.

Can you see the difference? This is why I am confused! There's a difference in each one of these and a difference in the levels of care and how sick he would be. People! If you have a kid in the hospital, no matter how short of a time, get a blog! Use CaringBridge! Don't play "pass the telephone" with information!

My parents have WCN, my sister's oldest son, until my sister is released from the hospital.

The rest of the day was brought to you buy a healthy, sneaky dose of PTSD.

I think I could handle the knowledge of Moose being in the NICU if we weren't transitioning Georgie out of Infant and Toddler services and into the school district this week. When I spoke to our family service coordinator last week, she indicated that George might not go to the full preschool program. Rather, he might just go up to the school a couple times a week for speech therapy, not for the full preschool program. This didn't jive with what she told me at our sixth month appointment. Then she said that he would qualify for the preschool program, no problem.

I'm easily confused. Don't confuse me. Plus, I had been looking forward to mornings with just my little dudes and I had to make the mental adjustment to my boy going to school a year before he's supposed to. I had made the adjustment and while I am sad for me, I know he will LOVE preschool. He stood at the enterence to the preschool and kindergarten wing and cried! Yeah, he wants to go!

Our SLP said that it is likely that the FSC can't confirm or deny anything until all the testing is done. I get that. I've just never done public preschool before, never had to mess with an IEP for one of my children, never done a preschool IEP and... I feel guilty.

See, every time I walk by that classroom, I think how much Georgie is going to LOVE it. And he is. I know in my heart that this is the right thing for him.I just think, though, that if my water hadn't broken, if something hadn't gone wrong, my baby would be fine.

I also believe, down in my soul, that Georgie is perfect.He is exactly the way God wants him to be and he has apraxia for a reason. I believe he will do wonderful things and teach us so, so much. He already has.

But I still feel that guilt. I still see hints of that helpless baby in his face, that baby that couldn't breathe on his own. I turn around and it's there, that sneaky little vision of what is still the darkest moment of our life.

I could handle one or the other, alone, each on its own time but Moose in the NICU and the transition meeting BECAUSE of another NICU stay has me on my knees. I feel like it's raining and I'm powerless to stop the flood.

Maybe it is raining and it's the memories that are drowning me.