Nothing Like Mommy's Touch - Also, Moo

There I sat, Sam nestled safely against my chest, one hand supporting his bottom and feet, the other hand resting gently on his bare back to keep him warm and secure. I kept one eye on him, and one eye on his monitor. The soft beeping of the machines around us provided soothing background noise.

Of particular interest was the blue number on the screen, his blood oxygen levels. They are supposed to be between 90-95. If that number drops into the 70s or 80s, it is considered a desat and may require intervention. I watched, nervously, as his number began to drop. Around 83, I started to panic. 

I shifted my weight a bit and made sure he was truly comfortable. Then I saw it - his little hand, which normally rests squarely on my chest next to his face, was propped up in the air due to a thick wrap on his wrist keeping his IV (called a PICC line) in place. I touched his hand and it was ice cold. 

I called a nurse over and asked for help - I was hoping she'd be able to get his hand resting on my skin so he could warm up. She only managed to bend his arm so his hand was closer to his face - but it was still suspended in the air. That had to be uncomfortable. 

So I reached my pointer finger around to his tiny hand, and he promptly grabbed on to it, with more strength than I expected. Every time I moved (mostly out of fear that the weight of my hand might crush him), he squeezed my finger and pulled it closer to his face. I covered him as best I could with my hand and the blanket, and we stayed like that for the entirety of kangaroo care. His hand warmed up, and his stats were perfect the rest of the time - even the nurses commented on how well he tolerated the session.

Conveniently, I couldn't capture a picture of that moment, but I sure did take a mental snapshot. I took special note of his small body against mine, the little shudders as he took breaths, how he opened his eyes and looked up at me when I spoke to him. I also took note of how I felt as I held him close, and how my instincts were taking over in ways I never could have imagined. It was a beautiful moment, and I'm grateful to have shared it with him. 

We are currently monitoring his toleration of feeding. There was a slight scare earlier when I noticed that his tummy was a weird grayish green color - an x-ray determined that he was just fine, but I'll be keeping my eye on him. I also noted that his skin color was a little off. I suspect he'll be getting a transfusion soon, simply to compensate for all the blood they take from him for testing. 

Speaking of feeding - I asked the nurse if I could start bringing milk to the hospital again, having been banned from doing so until further notice due to an oversupply. She informed me that I have 66 containers of milk at the hospital, and that not only was I not to bring any in, but I also have to start taking milk home that I pump at the hospital. That's not going to be easy.

Moo.

This is the opposite of a problem, but it is still quite hilarious!

And so, we move onward to a new day tomorrow. 

As Sam continues to fight, so shall I.