If you picture Leann Rhimes singing it, then you’ll know exactly how I’m feeling right now.
Louis is sick. He’s not deathly ill, but his bowels have proved that they aren’t quite ready for food and he’s developed an infection. Any little thing can go wrong quickly with a preemie, so they’re taking aggressive action and suspending all food for seven to ten days. In general, he looks good–he’s a little pissy about missing his meals, but he’s pink and active and responsive, which are all good signs.
It’s unusual for a baby of his size and gestation to be dealing with this, but Louis has proven to be a little bit of an odd ball from the beginning.
Today they added some drama to the mix by informing us that there is a chance that he’ll have to be moved to the large Children’s Hospital across the lake. Since he’ll be without food for a least a weeks, he receives all of his nutrition by IV. Being a tiny little guy, there are only so many veins that will work. If they are unable to find good veins, they’ll send him to the big hospital to have a central line placed surgically.
I hate to be a whiner–I really do. I’ve got two kids in the hospital and for the most part I’ve managed to stay pretty upbeat about the whole thing, but ugh, ugh, two babies at two different hospitals? One over forty minutes away?
I’m officially whining.
Nothing is written in stone–they might be able to find enough veins to make it through. The hospital across the lake is a good one and I know he would be in good hands. I just hoped that his time things would be a little easier. I felt like we’d been through the wringer enough the first time. Hell, I’ve been through the wringer quite a bit with this pregnancy.
But I know it doesn’t work that way. And I know I’m lucky that this is a bump in the road and not something more serious. I know, but I’m still feeling kind of down.
PS: August is doing very well–getting stronger and bigger every day and I think he’ll be four pounds very soon. He’s starting to look like a miniature Charlie.