July 27, 2009 - Jonah's 8th Day

July 27, 2009

At this point, the days were becoming one. My days were crammed with countless emotions. Fear was the principal one. Each time, I paced back to Jonah’s room, my heart would plummet to my stomach if his doctor was in his room. You never know what news a doctor is going to bring. You hope for the best but prepare yourself for the worst. I don’t believe a person can wrap their mind around the intensity of this fear unless they are experiencing it themselves. Your child’s life suspended in a very delicate balance. It hurts every inch of your body to watch the days unfold, not knowing what was in store.

“Jonah had another great night. He tried to escape last night so they had to up his morphine just a bit. I've talked to him about this and he promises not to do it again. He started kicking and moving his arms around and acting like a typical newborn...but he doesn't know any different so the nurses didn't discipline him too much.”

Jonah was thriving and trying to become a ordinary newborn. He made faces that made us believe he wanted to whimper or sometimes, smirk. He would shift his head in our direction when we talked to him, and he was getting stronger each day.

“Today, Jonah is a week old. We are so thankful for him and blessed to have him in our lives. He's getting cuter each day and starting to make more facial expressions. He's responds when I kiss on him (which is alot) and we've noticed he's ticklish in his feet.”

I remember his little legs kicking each time we would pat his feet and it was the sweetest movement. Jason and I would giggle as we tortured him by continuously tickling him.

“His surgeon, Dr. Michi, was in his room this morning when I visited - he smiled and said "You son do good." He is Japanese and we sometimes have a communication gap but he knows the words I need to hear.”

“He's still making his adorable facial expressions but only now, I can't kiss him anymore. They asked me stop doing that. I will listen to them only because it's my sons health.“

Days became more critical for Jonah as we prepared to remove his support. The fear of infections and germs forced him to be put on gown-and-glove isolation. This didn’t stop us from spending time with him but it did limit our contact. We no longer had skin-on-skin contact but glove-on-skin, which did not offer near the bonding experience we both wanted.

“They are lowering his life support and he's responding well to that. While they are lowering it, his body has to start producing everything itself. It's pretty neat to learn all this information. He's on an ECMO machine - an external heart and lungs. He has been on 110 kilos of support. They lowered it to 90 yesterday and then again to 80 last night. A few more days, and we're praying to have him off ECMO completely. Then, they can close his chest up. And that means, one step closer to momma getting to hold him.”

Jonah’s chest was still wide open from his first surgery on day 3. His tiny beating heart was there for us all to see. Only I wasn’t looking. Jason enjoyed the educational process of it all. He soaked in all the information and registered it. He would examine the drawings, look at Jonah’s actual heart and ask questions. I just wanted to hold my baby and I couldn’t.

“The cardiologist is still undecided about the pacemaker. He said sometimes it can take up to 7 days before the heart gets into rhythm again, so we just need to wait and see. He's not calling it just yet. Either way, we can handle a pacemaker.”

At first, I was a little saddened that he might require a pacemaker. Disappointed for about five minutes. In the whole scheme of things, what was the big deal about a pacemaker. Just give me my child and let us go on with our lives; pacemaker and all. Jonah’s life was still critical each day and I was allowed to stay at the hospital 24 hours a day, setting up camp in the waiting room. I couldn’t see life outside the hospital and did not care to venture away from that floor. I didn’t want to miss one second of Jonah’s life. Fear had driven me to become a recluse in a public setting. Anytime I stepped on the elevator, anxiety would completely take over and I could only think of returning to the CVICU. My security was the waiting room and Jonah’s room. I felt calm beside him, knowing he was still alive and with us. I felt peace knowing if something did happen, I would be right beside him through it all, holding his little hand and sneaking in a kiss.