Sleep deprived and anxiety levels running at new highs, we struggled emotionally through this day. Holden grew increasingly unresponsive after his surgery, and could barely get a cry out. After a terrifying bout of apnea, the doctors in the pediatric ward determined Holden would be better off continuing his care in the NICU. His transfer to the unit was chaotic as he stopped breathing again before arriving. Caitlin and I were helpless as what seemed like a dozen nurses and doctors came swarming around Holden. Amid the frenzied voices of the staff, Caitlin clenched Holden's burp rag in her fists as the NICU chaplain tried to assuage our terror with a prayer. As our shock subsided, we felt the weight of the situation set in. We wanted to get our son out of there as soon as possible.
We spent the rest of the day at Holden's side with two chairs pulled up to his bassinet watching as an intubator, several IV's, and monitors were hooked up. The nurses insisted that we get some rest. We knew we needed it, but were unwilling to part with Holden. After they heard our plans of sleeping in shifts in the family waiting room down the hall, the hospital arranged for us to stay in a room in the NICU about 20 feet from Holden. It had a pullout bed and a small bathroom and was usually used for mothers from other islands taking their children home. Though it was a burden to be away from our son at all, it was a blessing to get some rest knowing that Holden was nearby.
1 comment:
It is so special to read your sacred account of your few precious days with Holden. Thank you for sharing your touching emotions and experiences.
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