Posted by: Jenny | May 29, 2008


Do you ever notice that when someone that you love is in the hospital we tend to hang on every single word that the doctor or nurse or specialist spouts off?  Man, I sure have noticed that about me lately.  We are currently waiting for the cardiologist to tell us what he/she knows about Mara’s episodes – which, I’m willing to bet, is going to be “not much.”  We’ve had some great nurses and doctors here at the NICU, so I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.  But for the love of all that is good and holy, when my child is being held over for observation per the cardiologists recommendation or request or whatever, I’d like to be able to talk to that person so that he/she can explain to me why we’re doing it.  Hell, for that matter, I would just like to know if everything is ok with my daughter’s heart.  So if you are a health professional of any kind, please please please don’t keep parents waiting all freaking day just to hear any news at all.  Not only is it cruel to let them worry for 12 hours, it’s really just not neccessary.  Send a telegram, a carrier pigeon, a morse-code-by-flashlight or even a potential time that you may eventually meet us at for all I care, just give me some news.

Alright, my rant is over with.  Here is the latest.  Mara’s bili level went down one full point to 11.1, so all of the photo-therapy lights have been removed.  The coolest thing ever is now possible: we can hold our daughter for as long as we want!  I can’t explain how awesome that really is.  I was able to dance with her to some music (cause you know that daddy gets the very first dance) and feed her a bottle without worrying about any time limits.

Sadly, we won’t be going home today.  Since the doctors put her on this Inderol to calm her heart rate in anticipation of SVT episodes, Mara’s blood pressure was getting a wee bit low.  Now, they’ve decreased her dosage and want to monitor her heart for 48 hours.  (let’s see, carry the 1 and … yup)  We should be home on Saturday, and I swear if one more medical practitioner requests more tests and a longer stay, I’m going to spiral into a fit of wind-pipe-crushing rage.  Ok, maybe not really, but I will have some very tough questions for these professionals.

– D.



  1. It is so nice to hear that you can hold her now with no time limits. Yay for bonding!
    To regale you with another hospital story:
    Greta’s birth was not according to plan. An induction was called for and the medical personnel had reason to believe that my placenta had begun to fail four full weeks before my due date. They were very anxious and left me with the impression, very much intentional, that I was to prepare myself for a very low birth-weight baby, with underdeveloped lungs and the whole she-bang. They were so sure this was going to be the case that they arranged for Dale and me to have a private room, so that we could be with each other and with our wee, sick baby.
    Well, 13 hours of fun and one 7lb6oz baby later–all of their fears were totally misguided. Understandable, perhaps, given the ultrasound data they had to go on, but totally unwarranted in hindsight.
    Where am I going with this?
    Every doctor and every nurse in the L&D ward had heard we were going to have a sick baby. Everyone had eyed me sympathetically and done their best to make me happy while in labor. I, being in some discomfort–both physical and psychological–during this ordeal, took it to heart and Worried.
    Once my perfectly healthy, perfectly normal little girl was born—Not One Human Being In That Building Ever Told Me: She’s OK. You have nothing to worry about.
    I was a wreck, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for some nurse or MD to come in and whisk her away for tests or observation or whatnot. The fact that they didn’t obviously said something–but I was TIRED and WORRIED and had been told for three freaking DAYS that my baby was in DANGER.
    And no one ever let me off that emotional tenter hook, ever. It took my husband telling me, gently, to chill out, she is fine, nothing to fear, for me to realize what was going on.
    Sooo–your cardiologist is the latest installment of a LONG line of medical personnel who–to put it nicely–neglect to take the potential effects of their words and actions into meaning and talk with patients or caregivers.
    Slap him, I say.

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