The Eagle Has Landed

That's right, friends! After months of not wanting to brush his teeth so that they would get, "All wobbly" and fall out, Brian's dreams were finally realized, and he lost a tooth.

When his tooth finally came all the way out, Mike was gone with Evan and Adam to church for Cub and Boy Scouts. When they returned Brian bumrushed the back door and I heard him ask Mike gleefully, "Do you notice anything different about my smile?" I looked over to see Mike smiling down at Brian, who was smiling so widely it almost looked like a grimace and Mike exclaimed, "You lost a tooth, didn't you!?" When Adam and Evan made it through the door Brian asked them if they noticed anything different about his smile. I was worried that Evan would tease Brian and tell him that he didn't notice anything different but I am pleased to report that both Evan and Adam, "played nice" and told Brian excitedly that they noticed that he had lost his first tooth.

And then, of course, they reminded Brian of the Tooth Fairy's fiscal responsibility by making sure that he remembered that he had money coming his way.

Brian didn't need to be reminded.


In other breaking news...

John Daniel had his first haircut this past Monday.

Okay, I guess it doesn't qualify as, "breaking news" if I didn't blog about it for two days, but, the way I get behind in my blogging, two days after the fact is practically blogging in real time...
John had one little strand of really long hair that I wanted to snip. I know that snipping a strand of hair doesn't really count as a, "haircut" per se...but hey, don't confuse me with the facts...it is hair...it needed to be cut...so, of course, it had to be documented.

Here we see the snipped strand on Evan's Spanish vocabulary homework.

...and the, "after" shot. We live in a military town...people would have thought my boy was a hippie with all that long hair. They prefer a clean cut look around here.

That is all...as you were...carry on.

(Brian: 6 years and 7 months old) (John 6 months, 2 weeks and 3 days old (actual age) 4 months and 1 week old ( gestational age))

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Doesn't it Annoy You When...

...somebody blogs about their infant son being hospitalized and then NEVER comes back to update you on his status? Yeah, I agree...totally annoying..
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Well, since I am not one of those annoying bloggers *cough*...I would like to update you now...
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...but before I do, I have a bit of an editorial note. In my last post I told my friend Aleasha that there was a certain doctor working at the hospital that night that I thought she may be interested in. As it turns out, I confused a lot of people with my comment. You see, the doctor that I told Aleasha would totally be her type is actually her husband, and the father of her two beautiful daughters. When I wrote the last post Aleasha was out of town visiting her family in the far off land of Texas...so I thought I was being so hilarious by mentioning that I saw him that night in my, only funny to me, way.
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Oy...I hate it when my attempts at humor confuse, rather than amuse...
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So, anyway...my friend Aleasha is home from the wilds of Texas...so I would like to say to her, "Welcome Home, Aleasha. I missed you and I hope never to see your husband on a professional level ever again."
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Okay, the first thing that I want to tell you is that Little John told me that he adores me.



Well, he didn't say, "Mom, I adore you." in so many words, per se...
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But, when he flashes me sweet smiles like these...I think his feelings are definitely implied.


I am in love.

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So, the official diagnosis that caused John to be hospitalized those many weeks ago was, "acute viral pneumonia"....

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...which progressed about a week after his hospitalization into a case of bacterial pneumonia.

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I am still not speaking to John's disobedient lungs.

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The doctors said that his reflux problems combined with his very weak preemie lungs (his official lung diagnosis is, Bronchopulmonary Dysplasia (BPD) ) make it very easy for him to contract pneumonia. A lot of times when he has a reflux episode he will aspirate (fancy schmancy word for fluid being forced into his lungs) on the refluxed fluid. The fluid grows bacteria easily and can take him from a viral infection to a bacterial one in record breaking time.

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John's lungs never do anything halfway.

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...except help him breathe...

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oh, that little ol' thing called breathing.

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The thing is...unless you undress John and look at his little chest contracting deeply into his body, you would never know that he has pneumonia. Most days, he seems like the happiest little clam on the beach, and for that, I am truly grateful. The running family joke is, "Someone forgot to inform the baby that he is sick." Just the other day, John was laying on a blanket kicking his little legs with great vigor and babbling and cooing happily. I jokingly said to him something along the lines of, "Son, you mustn't exert yourself like this...you have pneumonia, remember?" To which he paused briefly to treat me to a lovely gummy grin, and then began his low impact aerobics regimen again.

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I had a hard time with being a bit teary during the last hospital visit. I have mentioned in previous posts that John has inherited my lousy veins...our veins roll away once the needle is inserted into the skin or they, "blow" easily, meaning that because they roll away sometimes the nurse or phlebotomist will accidentally puncture both sides of the vein and cause it to bleed out into the arm so that the blood can't be collected...

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Oh...sorry...was that too much information about blood?

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I'll wait if you are feeling lightheaded...

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So, anyway it is very difficult to draw his blood. I told the nurse that was assigned to him that she needed to call the IV team so that he wouldn't have to be poked repeatedly. She told me that she just wanted to, "take a look" and I told her that I really preferred she just call. She left the room and I assumed that she went to do my bidding.

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John's hospital room had a bathroom in it and after I went to use the facilities, I came out to find his nurse assisting a nurse that I hadn't seen before in drawing John's blood. I asked if "Stranger Nurse" was from the IV team and John's original nurse said sheepishly, "No, but she is so good."

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I gulped back tears when I looked down at John as he screamed helplessly. I told them that if she missed his vein I wanted the IV team like I had ORIGINALLY asked for. A moment later, "Stranger Nurse" muttered to, "Original Nurse", "It blew."

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Guilt that I hadn't told them to stop right when I exited the bathroom, and extreme anger washed over me. "Stranger Nurse" told me that she thought she could still get enough blood. She then began milking his arm...much like you would a cow's udder...and held the test tube up to the injection sight to collect his blood. I cringed as I thought about the bruising she was causing. John was screaming and staring at me with heartbreaking, pleading eyes. I protested, telling "Stranger Nurse" that I was certain that, even though she was collecting enough blood to fill the test tubes that it would probably be unusable because, for some reason, if you massage the injection sight in any way it crushes the blood cells in such a way that it can give a false result of high potassium in the blood. (High potassium is indicative of serious kidney problems). I knew this because in the past the nurses had done heel pricks to collect blood since it was so hard to draw blood from John's veins...but because they had to squeeze the heel repeatedly to collect the blood sample it crushed the blood cells and gave a false positive result for high potassium. I don't know a lot, but I knew the blood sample had to be a straight shot from vein to test tube.
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So, while the squeezing and screaming was going on, a different stranger walked into the room and told me she was from, I think it was called, "Patient and Family Services." and was wondering if the baby needed anything like rattles, toys or a mobile. Before I could answer, Stranger Nurse (still milking John's arm) told her that maybe the baby would like a rattle or some toys. Truth be known, I think Stranger Nurse just wanted her to leave, or to distract me, or both.
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John continued to sob and then the, Patient and Family Services- or whatever it was called- lady comes back into the room and began, I kid you not, shaking a rattle right in John's face as he wailed and kept repeating in a high pitched tone, "It's okay, baby...look at the rattle!!"
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Seriously...it was all I could do not to hiss at her, "Girl, if you don't want me to cram that rattle down your gullet you had better just turn on your heels right now, and walk out of here."
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I managed something along the lines of, "I'll show him the toys later...he's a little preoccupied right now."
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The thing is...I don't want to bust anybody's chops...I realize that the doctors and nurses are doing the best that they can and that, for the most part, they give their very best effort. I understand that it is hard to know how to care for each individual...and that modern medicine is not an exact science. I get that it is terribly inconvenient to have to wait on the IV team when you draw blood successfully all day long and feel confident that you can take care of things in a timely manner...but I feel like John's extreme distress could have been avoided.
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Let me just say, that if John is hospitalized again...heads are gonna roll if the IV team is not contacted immediately. My #1 job is to be John's advocate and I really feel I failed him during his last hospitalization.
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Aleasha's husband...I will refer to him as, Dr. Josh, told me later that night that John's blood work showed an elevated potassium level...
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Imagine that.
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Well, I want to switch gears right now and give an update and the rest of my little family...
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Did you know that I actually have other children?
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Don't feel badly...how could you have known I have other children? I never mention the poor dears, do I?
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Many people have asked me how the older boys feel about John and how they are doing. I am so thrilled that they adore Little John so much. There has not been jealousy that caring for John takes a lot of time away from home because of frequent doctor appointments. They have expressed some discouragement that we can't go places like we used to, though. The doctors have warned us that until RSV season is over in April that the baby should only leave the house for doctor appointments and then return immediately home because his lungs are so weak. The other day Adam asked if we could go bowling when it was his turn to choose the activity for Family Home Evening and he seemed a little let down when we had to remind him of the doctor's orders. A few weeks ago, Evan asked excitedly, "Where are we going for Thanksgiving?" and I pointed over my shoulder and said, "Into the dining room." He then asked in a disappointed tone, "Aw...we aren't going to visit anybody in Virginia?" It isn't fun for the boys to be home bound and for us not to be able to have many visitors (the doctor told us less visitors means less potentially harmful germs and infections) but I keep reminding them that if you have to be at home...being with a sweet baby brother is the way to go...and that April is just around the corner.
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Mike continues to keep us happy and sane with his sense of humor. The other day he held up little John's arm and shook it at the older boys as if John was motioning to them and pretended that John was making outlandish requests like, "Bring me a million dollars servants." Everyone cracked up at John's little fist being waved at them and Brian said, "I don't have a million dollars" to which Mike made John say, "Guards! Guards! Arrest this man...I am King John and my requests will not be ignored." Mike continued to pretend that John was making outlandish requests and Kingly decrees and when the boys told him they could not deliver what King John demanded he would call out again, "Guards! Guards! Take this man away! Throw him in my dungeon."
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Okay, I guess you had to be there...but we were delirious from laughter.
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I woke up from a nap the other day and asked Mike where the baby was. (I was still in bed and just wanted to know if John was still napping or if one of the boys was holding him.) Mike said dryly, "I don't know where he is." Knowing Mike was teasing I asked in a suspicious tone, "You don't know where our baby is?" and he replied flatly, "Well, when he got into the van and peeled out he didn't say where he was going."
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You see what I am dealing with?
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I took this picture of Mike and John at a really close range in hopes of capturing how John inherited Mike's long eyelashes. Too bad you can't really determine the length of their eyelashes and it just kind of looks looks like I am looming over top of them and am preparing to pounce on them like they are my unsuspecting prey.

Earlier in the school year Brian came home and told me that he wasn't feeling well. I took his temperature and when the thermometer read 102 degrees I decided to take him into the pediatrician that afternoon. On the way to the doctor's office Brian asked me tearily if they were going to, "Choke him with that stick?" and I told him that I did think that they would have to swab the back of his throat to see if he had strep throat. When he heard that he started to cry because he hates having his throat swabbed. The strep test came back negative but the pediatrician said she wanted to test for Influenza. Brian was listless on the exam table and had actually dozed off by the time they came to swab for Influenza. He was awakened by the nurse telling him she was going to swab inside his nose. (I didn't realize that they test for Influenza by swabbing high up into the patient's nostril) He started to cry because he said it hurt his nose. (It did look pretty jarring). After the nurse left to run the test Brian cried weakly, "I'm being tortured." It was kind of sad. When the pediatrician told me that he had tested positive for Influenza A and that it was most likely the swine flu. (I'd have to take him over to the ER and he would have to actually be admitted to the hospital for them to test specifically for swine flu) I started to cry immediately as I envisioned having another near death experience with a child (Well, if you count having a preemie as a near death experience). This happened early in the school year and I did not realize at that time that the swine flu was not as serious as the medical community originally thought it would be. The doctor said that she felt that it would be best if she treated the entire family for the swine flu because it could be deadly for little John.

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That's when Mike had a near death experience. His heart was barely able to handle the $50.00 a person price tag of Tamiflu for every member of the family. (Besides John)

Let's see...what else is going on with Brian...he informed me several months ago that he doesn't want to brush his teeth anymore because he wants them to get, "All wobbly" so they would finally fall out and he could get some money from the Tooth Fairy. It is going to be a wonderful day when his teeth finally start falling out of his head.

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On September 22nd, Atlanta and the surrounding areas experienced some severe flooding. We were about 2 1/2 hours away from the flooding and damage but I was very concerned about Adam being frightened when he heard about it. He has been petrified about severe weather ever since our family had this experience.
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When Evan got home from school he told me that they had heard in class that Six Flags Over Georgia (an amusement park in Atlanta) was, "under water". I told Evan that Adam had probably heard about the flooding but not to mention it if he hadn't.

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So, when and Brian and Adam got home I expected to have to field questions about the flooding and try and quell Adam's fears about it possibly flooding here.

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I was thrilled when Adam said nothing about it and that the sun was shining brightly at our house.

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Until...as he was eating his after school snack Brian piped up and said, "Hey mom...you know that place with all of the roller coasters?"

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I glanced at Adam out of the corner of my eye and he didn't seem to be listening so I said quietly to Brian, "Yes..."

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Brian announced loudly, "Well, it's drowned."

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Of course Adam began asking, "It's what...what drowned? Who drowned?"

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Thank you, Brian. (why did the first grader know about the flooding and not the 4th grader?)
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Brian was right, though...Six Flags was drowned.

I spoke at length with Adam about everything being okay and that I was confident that flooding wouldn't start here. I had to give myself my own little pep talk, though, because Mike has one out of town conference a year and it began on the 24th this year (two days after the Atlanta flooding). On the morning of the 24th when a heavy rain began to fall I found myself wondering if I should put some of John's oxygen tanks in the back of the van just in case...or if I should order some extra tanks in the event that we had to flee. It didn't even rain very long that morning but I have to admit that those thoughts did cross my mind at first...I tend to be a bit of an alarmist.
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Adam ran for Vice President of the student body this year and really worked hard on his campaign. He was disappointed that he didn't win but we tried to explain to him that with 9 kids running for the same position meant that the votes were very spread out and that he didn't need to worry that his peers didn't like him. (That was his original fear.)
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The candidates were only allowed to have one poster each (all of the candidates' posters were displayed together by the lunchroom)...so Adam worked very hard at making his memorable by using bright colors. When we found this red pair of plastic oversized scissors at the Dollar Store his campaign slogan was born, "Adam Marshman is a cut above the rest!"

I was hoping that having Brian as his campaign manager (Adam told Brian, "Tell your friends they'd better vote for me.") and the good fortune of strategically placed Mormons in the school would work in our favor but victory wasn't to be. Adam said that for some reason only the 3rd through 5th graders voted in this election...thus knocking out Brian and his bullied friends' votes and most of the Mormon contingency. (I have not been able to confirm that only grades 3rd through 5th voted but both Brian and Adam insist that that is the case.)
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Adam hand wrote these little stickers for his friends to wear. He came out and told me that he chose the colors red and black because most of his friends are UGA fans (University of Georgia) and he knew they would like them because red and black are UGA's colors, even though he is a Hokie. Way to know your political demographic, son.

The other day I was walked into the kitchen and couldn't remember what I was about to do. (I have that problem frequently it seems.) I said out loud, "What was I about to do?" and without missing a beat Adam said, "You were about to bow down to me." I laughed out loud as I stared at his smirking face. I love it when my boys' humor catches me off guard. Adam catches me off guard more and more lately.

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Here we see, "His Majesty Adam whom I should bow down to" holding John at one of his doctor appointments.
Evan continues to play the trumpet in the middle school band and really loves it. Several weeks ago the middle school band played for the grand opening of the new Food Lion (grocery store) in town. I have no idea why this makes me giggle every time I think about it. I just think it is hilarious that they played for a grocery store grand opening. Among the rousing selections that the band played at the Food Lion grand opening was, "Low Rider". I am still laughing about that. .
The 7th grade band also plays, "We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister and, "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne.

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Evan's band teacher is single for any of my single blog friends that may be interested.

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Okay, I am so mad right now I could scream. I tried to post the song, "Low Rider" on this post and it wiped out the rest of Evan's pictures that I was going to put at the bottom of this post. I tried to re-upload them and drag them down to the bottom of the post to where they belonged but it isn't working. Grrrrrrrrrrr, snarl, growl, sputter...........Now I need to finish this post, which is already too long, in an entirely different post....grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Blogging From the Hospital

Little John had to be hospitalized again this afternoon. Poor little Pooka. His breathing became labored on Tuesday and I took him in to the pediatrician. She evaluated him and sent us over to the hospital for a chest X-ray. His lungs appeared, "wet" in the films and we were sent home and told to monitor him closely. When his labored breathing did not improve we were told to increase his dosage of Lasix and begin to administer Albuterol in addition to his usual Pulmicort breathing treatments . These changes only seemed to help him slightly and I spent a good portion of the day yesterday waiting for the doctor's office to call me back with advice as to what to do. My main question was if I should just take him into the emergency room as we have done in the past but we were instructed to, "try and hold off" because there have been many cases of the swine flu in the ER in recent weeks and I had an appointment with the pediatric pulmonologist (lung specialist) at 10:30 this morning . It took the pulmonologist approximately 2.3 seconds to tell me that she wanted to admit him to the hospital after she observed his chest sinking deeply into his little body as he drew each breath.

We are receiving excellent care and hope to be home really soon. I was hoping to avoid a hospital stay but those little lungs of John's have a mind of their own.

Now, if I could only figure out where my mind has gone.

Uh...I was just told by one of the nurses that I have to go back into the room because John is on what she called, "Gown, Glove and Mask Precautions" and that I can't be in the main area (to use the computer) of the floor because it is officially cold and flu (RSV) season and it could be dangerous for John. How's that for a dramatic ending for this post? Gotta run.

Oh, hey Aleasha...there is a really good looking doctor taking care of John tonight. I mean, this doctor is no Mike Marshman, but I think he'd be exactly your type. Okay...I've really gotta go...I am getting the stink eye from one of the nurses at the nurses station...

Medical Incredible

Uh, sorry I kind of left everyone hanging...I really meant to come back and blog to update our progress...

Don't be mad at me...just think of it as my way of trying to add to the suspense and intrigue to the story, okay?

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That, and the fact that we had some computer problems. Well, in truth, the problems only lasted for about a week but, I am going to play the, "computer problems" card because technically, I can. Heh, heh, heh...that could be considered a play on words, get it, "technical" problems.

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Okay, fine...it wasn't funny...and now on with the story...

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As mentioned in the previous post, (you know, like over a month ago) John's apnea monitor alarming four times in under two hours is what took us to the hospital on August 2nd. The apnea monitor company came to the hospital to trade out the monitor that we had been using and gave us a new one. The monitors are kind of like little computers and are able to hold onto all of their data so that it can be analyzed. The company downloaded the information and found that only two times out of all of the eight or nine times the alarm had sounded in the previous month were, "true apnea spells".

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Well then, as long as it was only two true spells.

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Too bad that it only takes one true apnea spell to do you in.

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The attending physician told us that many things can cause apnea spells. He explained that he thought that acid reflux may have been causing John to stop breathing long enough to make the monitor alarm.

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The truth is, as amazing as modern medicine is, (and believe me, I am inexpressibly grateful for modern medicine) it is not and never will be an exact science. There is no way of really knowing what exactly caused those two, "true apnea." spells.

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My feelings have changed about our little apnea monitor. When I was first went through the training on how to use it I remember being told that many people have a hard time parting with the monitor once their baby is old enough and strong enough not to need it anymore, because of the peace of mind that it affords them. I sat in the training session thinking to myself that I will never be one of those people. I am not sure why the monitor made me so fearful, perhaps I was intimidated by the wires that I would have to contend with or the incredibly loud alarm...whatever it was, I remember scoffing at the idea that I would miss it when the time came to turn it back in. The gentleman from the company that supplied the oxygen tanks and the apnea monitor told us that he has worked with parents that beg to buy an apnea monitor rather than live without it. We began to laugh in that meeting when he shared that one mother refused to let the monitor go even though her baby was too big for the belt that holds the electrodes in place to fit around his chest anymore. He told us that the mother had to adhere the electrodes to her baby's skin with band-aids. He chuckled as he explained that when he visited the home to deliver supplies the baby was practically big enough to answer the door himself.

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Wanting desperately to laugh at that moment I chimed in and quipped about how when that baby was old enough to ride a bike he would have his apnea monitor trailing behind him down the street.
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We all had a good laugh. I thought it was very funny.

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That is, until I realized that I have become, "one of those people."

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John is not old enough or strong enough at this point to be without the apnea monitor but I dread the day that we will be without it. I, just like that mother that I mocked (and feel badly for mocking, now), want to hold on to it forever.

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I want John's Kindergarten teacher to have to call me and ask me how to turn off the monitor if it alarms.
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Heck, I want John's future wife to have to call me from their honeymoon locale to ask me how to turn off the apnea monitor if it alarms.

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I do admit that my heart stops each time that alarm sounds, though. The screaming sound that monitor makes has aged me. I was telling a friend the other day, how John has an, "actual age" (starting from when he was actually born) and a, "gestational age" (starting from his original due date) and how we are supposed to take into consideration both when we determine if he is hitting developmental milestones when he should.

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I would say, because of that monitor ,that my gestational age is about...oh...79.

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It alarmed recently while I was driving and I am so grateful that, somehow I managed not to crash. I called Mike and told him something along the lines of, "Not to brag honey ,but I consider today a raging success...I have not gotten anything major accomplished, but the fact that I didn't crash when that thing screamed at me is, in my mind, a job well done."

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The big blessing that came from John going back into the hospital that day was that his blood work revealed that the potassium level in his system was at a, "critical" level. Too much potassium in the body can cause potentially fatal heart problems or other organs in the body, like the liver or the kidneys to fail. Thankfully, his medication was able to be adjusted to bring his potassium down to a safe level.

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The hospital that I delivered at and that John was in the NICU at is a different hospital than the one that John has been admitted to the two times he has had to be re-hospitalized because his pediatrician is affiliated with a different hospital than my OBGYN. The new hospital is considered a, "teaching hospital" and in truth, it has taken a bit of getting used to for me. When the doctors make rounds in the new hospital there is a whole crew of residents and doctors that are in various learning stages of medical school that accompany them. There was several times that I was tempted to say, "While I appreciate that this is a teaching hospital, do all 12 of you (I am not kidding about that number) have to be in here at the same time?" At one point the attending physician heard what he called a, "crinkle" in John's lungs and he wanted all of the medical posse that was with him to take turns listening to the sounds that John's lungs were making. All 12 medical personnel lined up and one by one took turns listening to his lungs. Some were huffing on their stethoscopes in hopes to warm them up but I was concerned that they were putting all manner of germs onto my baby's chest by doing so.

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It actually was kind of funny to see them all lined up, if it weren't so disconcerting to me and kind of sad.

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This last hospitalization was hard for me also in that, it seemed like some of John's doctors' opinions contradicted each other.

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I am so grateful for a gentleman in our ward that...well...he is too humble and what not to fess up to this, but the word on the street is that he was Resident of the Year this year, and is going to be the Head Honcho resident (I think it may be called Chief Resident), next year...came into John's hospital room and took over an hour to explain things to us in detail even though John was not his patient.

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I called his wife Aleasha and told her, "Hey, there is this good looking guy in John's hospital room, right now."

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To which Mike called out, "And Josh is here, too..."

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Seriously, thank you, "Dr. Resident of the Year, Head Honcho Next Year (that I think is called Chief Resident), but is too humble and what not to say so, but the Marshmans found out anyway, Josh Smith." You helped us so much.

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We have nicknamed John, "Our Sweet Little Old Man" for a host of reasons...all of them dealing with the fact that he is experiencing things now that generally would be part of daily life for someone much older.

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He has so many doctors that we had to create a notebook just to keep his appointments straight.

He has a list of medications longer than his arm, literally...

He has to take daily breathing treatments. I do love the penguin nebulizer, though. I squealed with delight when I saw that it was cute, rather than, yet another scary looking piece of medical paraphernalia . The man from the medical company that supplies the nebulizers said the cuteness was a marketing ploy. I am a slave to good marketing.

Lookie at the little igloo carrying case.

Another adorable piece of good marketing is the turtle mask for his breathing treatments. The turtle is for the smallest patients. I heard that the next mask larger in size is a fishy.

Of course, his nasal cannula is something that most patients with lung problems don't wear until much later in life. It took me a while to get used to taping his nasal cannula to his face. I have to use thick pieces of the pink surgical tape because he can accidentally rip it off otherwise.

You usually see signs about the use of oxygen on the doors of the homes of someone much older.

This is the only picture I have thus far without John's nasal cannula on. Our camera is dying and I have tried to snap several pictures when I am changing out the cannula but the camera often won't work when I try to get the picture. I licked the camera batteries to get this shot. He has to wear his cannula all day but the doctor said he can have it off for a 5 minute span to wash his cheeks.

He smiled at me so sweetly the other day...I tried to capture it but the camera quit on me before I could. I think he is going to have brown eyes.

The truth is, I cannot adequately express how greatly we have been blessed throughout this whole ordeal. The prayers, and fasting in his behalf and having his name placed on the temple rolls are truly, truly helping John.

We have been so blessed to be right where we are in Georgia, too. I go to appointments at the hospital all of the time and sit in the waiting room with people that have had to travel upwards of 4 hours one way to come to the Children's Medical Center at this hospital that we have the good fortune to live only 10...or 15 minutes, depending on who is driving, from.

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So...hopefully I will update more rapidly next time. Don't hold your breath, though. Well...feel free to hold your breath...I would be happy to supply you with some oxygen if you collapse...I'll even give it to you half price. I'm gracious like that.

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I Should Update More Regularly. Parenthetically titled: (Back in the Hospital)

My sister Stephanie took this picture. (More on her visit, later.) Sweet little John has grown so much. Lookie at the beginnings of an actual double chin.

Little John came home after a 5 day hospital stay (from Friday July 17th until Tuesday July 21st) and was home for 12 days before having to be re-hospitalized early this morning.

His apnea monitor alarmed this past week (the first time on Tuesday July 28th at 5:30a.m.) and I tore down the hallway to make sure he was breathing. I don't think I have ever moved more quickly. I checked him over and he was sleeping soundly and his little chest seemed to rise and fall normally. I reset the monitor stood over him for, well...I don't know how long...to make sure he was okay and finally went back to bed even though I was unable to sleep. Can you imagine not being able to sleep? The doctors told us to take note of any time the apnea monitor alarms but not to call unless it alarms repeatedly.

I was nervous and shaky the entire day of Tuesday July 28th and hovered over John while he napped. I called Mike at work repeatedly to try to calm my nerves and have him reassure me. I remember jokingly saying to Mike through tears, "I have asked John Daniel nicely 5 or 6 times why he quit breathing this morning but he refuses to tell me. I'm thinking of grounding him." (I even cooed at John that day, "Don't you do that again, Mister or it's Time Out City for you, got it?") Mike reminded me during my calls how we were told by the doctors that sometimes the monitor will alarm and if we check the baby and he is breathing to reset the monitor and try carry on with our day. ("Try" being the operative word used in those instructions.)

Having a preemie has proven to be a full time job. Well, I am of the opinion that all newborns, even full term ones, are a full time job, but what I mean is-- I am very grateful that I don't have to work outside the home because I don't know how a mom would be able to have a job in the work force and go to all of the doctor appointments that a preemie's life outside of the NICU requires. Little John had 5 doctor appointments this week and many of them lasted from 2 to 3 hours each. This week he visited:

• The nephrologist: (Kidney specialist). John has some swelling in his kidneys. We are told that this is common for preemies but has to be monitored. His blood work is showing that he has high amounts of potassium in his system and which can be indicative of major problems so the nephrologist did some tests to check if the medication he was prescribed to bring the potassium level down was successful.


• The pulmonologist: (Lungs and Breathing specialist) to see how his oxygen levels were doing for him and check his overall lung health.


• The Opthamologist: (Eye doctor) Being on oxygen can detach the retinas in the baby's eyes and cause blindness. John has to have frequent appointments to make sure that there has been no detachment while he is on oxygen.


• The neonatologist: to check his overall progress since being released from the NICU.


• The pediatrician: To check his weight, overall growth and overall health.

While we were at the pulmonoligst's office on Thursday July 30th I was feeding John and the apnea monitor alarmed again while we were waiting for the doctor to see us. (Luckily we were already in the examination room and it didn't alarm while we were in the waiting room. That would have been added stress and stares from strangers that I am thankful that I was able to avoid.) I jokingly thanked Little John for being conveniently located for an apnea spell. (I mean, if you are gonna stop breathing the pulmonologist is the place to be, right?). I told the doctor what had happened as soon as she came into the examination room and after checking him over she assured me that she wasn't overly concerned since he was breathing well and his color looked healthy and pink.

The thing about the apnea monitor is...well...it is highly sensitive...so sometimes if the baby stops breathing to do something as innocuous as sneeze it may alarm.

This morning at about 2:00a.m the apnea monitor alarmed and Mike and I both tore down the hallway to find John sleeping soundly. We reset the monitor and stared at him for a few minutes and it alarmed again...we reset it again and waited for a longer period of time. His color looked good and his breathing didn't seem overly labored so after waiting and watching (and worrying) we headed back to bed. When it alarmed the third time we decided to call the pediatrician on call (we were instructed to call in if the alarm sounded 3 or more times in a 24 hour period. The alarm had sounded 3 times in a time period of an hour and a half.) When I walked into the kitchen to get the phone the alarm sounded AGAIN and this time we could see that he was not breathing at all. I went to turn the monitor off and it kept sounding indicating how serious the situation had become. In the past I really felt like the loud alarm must have caused the baby to breathe because it sort of snapped him out of his apnea spell.

Mike yelled, "He still isn't breathing!!!"

Mike is always so calm under pressure. When we were trained in infant CPR we were told that if we checked the baby and he did not appear to be breathing to thump his foot and pull his hair and if that didn't cause him to take a breath to begin chest compressions. When the alarm sounded and could not be turned off Mike flew into action and pulled little John's hair. John cried out in pain and began breathing again. Hearing his little yelp was a truly beautiful sound. We called the doctor and Mike and John headed to the emergency room at about 4:oo a.m.

John was admitted to the hospital shortly upon arrival and the doctors have begun a myriad of tests.

It sounds utterly ridiculous to say this because what could be more crucial than breathing, right?...but John has been progressing in many arenas beautifully. He has gained weight well and seems to have learned to suck and swallow with efficiency. (As mentioned before, preemies are born to early to have the instinct to suck and swallow). He is able to maintain his body temperature which is also a concern for preemies.

I broke down and sobbed after Mike headed to the emergency room this morning. I began to play the, "what if" game as in, "What if he didn't have the monitor?...would he have died of S.I.D.S. this morning?" I tried to calm myself as quickly as I could...which, of course, is more easily said than done. I realize asking myself, "What if" is not healthy or productive. I am prayerful that everything will be okay and ultimately feel that, though it is going to take a long time to get a lot of these, as the pediatrician calls them, "preemie problems" managed, in time everything will be okay. Right now I am feeling overwhelmed and kind of crazy, though.

Well, I should specify...when I say, "crazy" I mean more so than usual.

Thank you so much for all of your concern and prayers. If you could be so kind as to send some more prayers our way we are happily and gratefully accepting them.

I Was Going to Try and Be Clever...

I was going to try and be clever and post this picture, and the title of this post was going to be,

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"Notice Anything About This Picture?

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and then I was going to point out that they don't have couches like this in the NICU, or anywhere else in the hospital, for that matter...

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...because, the couches in the hospital are made of that kind of cold, vinyl-like material...and, the couches at the hospital are much cleaner than this couch, too...

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...and then, I was going to say that there is good reason that this particular stained couch is in the picture because...
After 46 Days in the NICU, at the age of 1 month, 2 weeks and 1 day old (technically, it would have been 36 weeks and 2 days gestation if I were still pregnant with him)

Our little John came home.

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John came home on the evening of Monday July 13th, 2009. When he was released from the hospital he came home with several types of medication, and apnea monitor and was still on oxygen. His first night home his apnea monitor alarmed while I was burping him to indicate that he was not breathing. Thank goodness I was holding him when it alarmed because I was able to look at him and see that he was just holding his breath for a few seconds. (Perhaps, he held his breath because I was burping him?- the monitor is very sensitive) I cannot imagine the terror I would have felt if I heard the apnea monitor alarm and I had to run to his crib to see what caused it.

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I told Mike that if that apnea monitor ever alarmed again, I was going to need oxygen, myself.

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...and maybe the use of a defibrillator.

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When I told Mike that he smiled and called out, "CLEAR!" as he pretended to put defibrillator paddles to his chest. He's hilarious, isn't he?

Well, it was a great 4 days home for our sweet John Daniel, but unfortunately he had to be hospitalized again yesterday morning because his lungs had filled with fluid and he had to strain to catch his breath even with the help of the oxygen. It was so scary to see his little chest contract so deeply into his body that it looked like it was going to touch his spine. I felt so helpless.

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The comforting news is for this hospital visit either Mike or I get to, "room in" with our little man and be in charge of all of his care (feeding, diapering, burping, holding, cooing at, etc.) and the doctors and nurses manage all of the medical aspects of his care. (Medicine, oxygen, X-rays, ultra-sounds, etc.)

All things considered, John is doing well and we hope to be able to bring him home again, soon. There is some question that he has a "sub ependymal hemorrhage" in his brain. The doctor assured us that small, "bleeds" on the brain are very common for preemies and that it is entirely possible that the bleeding will resolve on its own. I told the doctor that he cannot use the word, "hemorrhage" in my presence and expect me to keep a cool head. That's when he used the term, bleed" as opposed to, "hemorrhage". Nice try, Doc.

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So, again...all of these complications are common for preemies and John is getting excellent medical care. It is very possible that he will not have any long term effects from them and if he does...we will handle them as they present themselves. John has had multiple priesthood blessings and I am so grateful for how we have been blessed through them and through prayers. This whole experience has taught me so much about the Atonement. I know that our Heavenly Father knows our little John and that our Savior Jesus Christ has felt the pain of his physical infirmities. That knowledge has sustained me so much.

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So, I am off for my shift at the hospital, now. Mike spent last night bonding with our youngest man and I am so excited for my turn.

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This picture was taken by Adam when John was still in the NICU. Adam asked if he could take John's picture and when he did I noticed he had his hand in front of the camera lens. When I asked him what he was doing he said, "I'm taking a picture of my 'thumbs up' for baby John!"
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I really like this picture. Baby John, your big brothers, and parents are positively ga ga over you. Come home to us soon, little man.
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When We Last Left Our Heroine...

...heh, heh, heh, I am laughing at the fact that I referred to myself in the title as, "Our Heroine". I crack myself up. Just ask me anytime...I am more than happy to tell you how hilarious I am.
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Please, don't tell anyone this, but, uh...in truth I feel very far from being a, "heroine". I guess I feel a lot more, "helpless" than, "heroine", lately.
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Oh, great...again with the dramatic tone that I was worried about in the last post...
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Well, I guess this is going to come across as dramatic and I shouldn't keep fretting about that fact, so...as I was saying before...when we last left our heroine, I was explaining that I had just been admitted to the hospital on my 15 year wedding anniversary. I had told several friends that I was excited to have 4 days of rest and relaxation coming my way but, in truth, I was feeling very anxious about not being able to go home.
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Once I was settled in my room I called the Young Women's president, Tiffany, and told her, "Well, I guess if I didn't want to go to Girls' Camp I could have just said so." She laughed and told me, "We all know that you just don't want to be pregnant all summer in Georgia." You see, Tiffany is due to have her fourth child on August 11th, and my baby, John, was due on August 8th. I enjoyed being pregnant at the same time as Tiffany, for many reasons, but I have to say that, you should have seen us at presidency meetings...bless our hearts, we were like two idiots. We both had a pretty severe case of, "Pregnancy Brain" and would often begin sentences and forget what we were talking about by the time we tried to reach the end of our statements. I kept waiting for the other counselor, Mary, and the secretary, Aleasha, to have to hold up cue cards to help jog our memories. Equally funny during my pregnancy, was when I would call Tiffany on the telephone and forget what the purpose of my call was and vice versa. (I feel I should confess that I had a far more serious case of Pregnancy Brain than Tiffany did, though.) Joking with Tiffany on the phone helped me feel less anxious about my incarceration and I was able to relax somewhat that afternoon.

One of the not so pleasant things about the hospital stay was that, simply put, I have lousy veins. At first, I thought that perhaps, it was because I have such chubby arms but the nurses assured me that that had nothing to do with it. I had to be stuck at least twice if not three or four times to find a vein that wouldn't, "blow" as the nurses called it or, "roll away" and each stick left me with black and purple bruises. It became evident only hours after I was admitted that I would need to have the, "IV Team" come draw my blood for the battery of tests that would have to be done daily. I laughed when my nurse told me that she was calling the, "IV Team" to draw my blood. For some reason I envisioned a whole team of people parachuting into my hospital room wearing red, white and blue jumpsuits complete with helmets and goggles.
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That evening Mike brought the boys to visit me and I found it very interesting to see their different reactions to my not being able to come home from the hospital. Evan was all about the hardcore medical questions. He asked me that night, "So, what did the doctor say about your blood pressure?...How is your blood?...How is your urine?" I should mention that one of the times that I was sent home after visiting the Observation/Triage section of the hospital I had a huge orange jug in tow. My instructions were to collect my urine for a 24 hour period and bring it in to be tested for traces of protein to make sure that I wasn't developing preeclampsia/toxemia. My boys were fascinated though they pretended to be repulsed that I had a huge jug of my urine chilling in the refrigerator right next to the milk jug. Evan learned at that time that I was collecting my urine that weekend and remembered that it was to look for protein...that is why he asked me, "how my urine" was. (It was kind of a strange experience to bring a huge jug of my own pee back into the hospital. When I handed it to the nurse I kind of giggled as I said, "Here you are...chilled to perfection.")
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Adam approached me that first night in the hospital with tear filled eyes and asked me quietly, "Mooooom...are you gonna be okaaaaay?" I explained to him that he didn't need to worry and that the doctor was taking great care of me and his baby brother and that I didn't even feel sick.
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Brian was seemingly unfazed by my recent incarceration because he was far too fascinated by my exciting hospital bed. He immediately went to work pushing buttons to lower and then raise the bed repeatedly. He was crowding me for the first half of his visit and once when I returned from using the bathroom he was smack dab in the middle of the bed covered in my blanket. He found it fascinating that I was again collecting my urine in the, "hat" as the nurse called it, in the toilet, and pouring it into one of those big orange jugs.
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I was incarcerated on Thursday May, 21st and the following Monday was Memorial Day. Mike and I discussed that first night in the hospital that hopefully I would be home by Saturday or Sunday morning. I told him, "I'll just give the doctor my sad eyes and promise to adhere to his rules of strict bed rest and hopefully he will let me go." Mike and I both agreed that it really was a blessing that if I had to be hospitalized it had happened at a good time because the next day was the last day of school and it was a holiday weekend so Mike was off of work. I felt hopeful that I would be home before I knew it and everything would be okay.
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My doctor visited me early the next morning and told me that he would be going out of town for the holiday weekend but that he would keep in close contact with the doctor on call to make sure the toxemia had not taken over my system while he was gone. I remember, silly me, thinking that he was worrying needlessly and that I was going to give the doctor on call my, sad eyes (I learned the technique of using, "sad eyes" to get what you want from the master...my Brian) and be home by Monday. Then my doctor told me that it was looking like I would not be going home before this baby was born.
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I. was. stymied. I had no idea that the situation was that serious until that point. I remember my mouth falling open when my doctor told me that. I just stared at him for a moment *blink* *blink* and quietly whispered, "It's that serious?" He quietly answered back, "Yes. Definitely."
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I called Mike and told him what the doctor had said and that the doctor was not only worried about the toxemia, but that my blood pressure was still at a deadly elevation. We discussed that perhaps it would be best if the boys visited his family in Virginia for a little while and hopefully rest, and medication would help my blood pressure come back down to a safe level and prevent the toxemia from worsening.
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That night the boys visited me again in the hospital and we had a lovely time playing Memory together. The game got to be a little raucous and the nurse had to come in to ask us to be more quiet. I cringed as I envisioned her going back to the nurses station and saying something along the lines of, "Room 404 has elevated blood pressure and they are in there getting worked up over a game of Memory?!" We couldn't help it though, Brian SCHOOLED us in that Memory and cleared the board in a huge winning streak. It was very exciting.
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Okay...I guess you had to be there.
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Anyway...Mike left early Saturday morning to take the boys to Virginia. I have to say right now, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to Grandma and Grandad Marshman, Uncle David, Aunt Mary, and cousins Holly and Erik for all you did for my boys while they visited you in Virginia. I am truly, truly overwhelmed with gratitude. It helped me so much to have such peace of mind that our boys were with you.

I need to get off of the computer now, but I wanted to post some pictures and give you an update on John. I will return at some point to share another installment of the story. I know I am drawing this out to a frustrating point and I am so sorry about that. I just want to record all of this for posterity.
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When John was first born...do I say, "born" or..."delivered"? In truth, the poor little guy was surgically removed...Well, anyway...when John began his, "life on the outside"...he had to be on a ventilator. If I understand things correctly, the ventilator breathes for the baby. After about a week his ability to breathe improved and he was switched to what they call a Si-Pap (sounds like, sigh) machine. The Si-Pap machine forces air through the baby's nose to assist in breathing. It only took a few days for John to be switched from the Si-Pap machine to a C-Pap machine. (Pronounced like the letter, "C") If I understand correctly a C-Pap machine forces less air through the baby's nose because the baby is able to breathe more evenly on their own.
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John has now graduated to a nasal cannula (the thin, clear, little tubing with two prongs that insert directly into the baby's nostrils). It gives him, "whiffs" of oxygen to help him breathe. The neonatologist has tried several times to lessen the amount of oxygen that John is receiving but he is just not ready yet to be without the level he is receiving.
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The other day I was talking to John's nurse and she said, "He is doing so well...he just forgets to breathe sometimes." We both started to laugh at her statement in spite of ourselves. I said, "Oh, that...that silly little breathing thing." I guess you had to be there but it really was a good moment.
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On June 12th when John was 2 weeks and one day old his little body began rejecting his feedings. At that point he was receiving special preemie formula through a feeding tube. After each feeding the nurses put a syringe into the feeding tube and pull back to draw out any undigested formula. At that point most of John's formula was undigested. The neonatologist called the undigested portion of formula, "residual"...I guess meaning, what resides or remains undigested. The neonatologist called this feeding problem a, "setback" and assured us that setbacks are normal or common for preemies. It was heartbreaking to see him struggle with this setback because he would cry out because his little tummy felt hungry. He was still being nourished through a picc line that went directly through a tube in his belly button with a special vitamin and mineral water (it looked like Gatorade) and was given lipids (fats) through his picc line but, after having his special high caloric preemie formula he was used to having his tummy feel full.
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John has successfully traversed the feeding setback and began eating again through a feeding tube that was inserted directly into his throat. It was then moved into his nostril and down the back of his throat.
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I am thrilled to report that he is now able to take his feedings through a bottle. Learning to, "nipple" feed is one of the things that preemies have to learn to do. They are born too early to have developed the instinct to root and suck like full term babies have.
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Little John currently has some fluid on his lungs which the doctor is trying to dry with a medication called, Lasix.
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Okay...I really have to go, now...I promise to return soon...
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I know you are thinking, "Yeah, right...she says that and never comes back...but I promise to return...
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... at some point, anyway...
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Please, enjoy some pictures...

He still has the scab from the IV that made a vein in his scalp rupture.

Some volunteers made little hats for the preemies. I told Mike this one looks so tiny it reminds me of the covers some people put on their golf clubs. Here is his hat next to the mouse on the computer in the NICU.

Sweet, little man.

The pictures we decorated his isolette with.

A little name sign I made for his isolette. It sounds corny but I just wanted to do something for the little guy.

The nurse tried to soothe him with this pacifier. It looks so huge next to his tiny litle face.

The night the boys arrived home from Virginia and got to meet and hold their baby brother.Thanks, Uncle David for all of the new Hokie gear. This hat it going to have to be surgically removed from Evan's head. We love it!

This is a little, "arm board" to help keep his arm stable so he doesn't rip out his IV's. His nurse told me he is, "a wild man!"

Holding Adam's finger. So, sweet.

Looking up at Brian.

One of my favorite nurses always color coordinates his blankets, burp clots and sheets. It sounds silly but it makes me feel so good that she takes the time to do that. I probably won't pay that much attention to detail once I get him home, but I really appreciate that she does.

looking at Daddy.

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