What can I say that will come close to expressing how we feel? We are tired, we are waiting, and we ache to see our baby's smiles. We hold on to the little moments like this morning when he was bright eyed and even had a few "coos" in him.
We had lots of visitors this weekend. I will post pictures soon. Thank you to all of you for just coming to love our little boy and us!
This weekend has brought many questions. I'm sure by now you can sense our frustration and our hurt. Saturday night Carter's fever shot up and his white blood count was 42 (normal 5-17). They discovered an infection in his blood that seemed very scary. His numbers were terrible and he was dehydrated. My heart broke as I stood at his crib and watched him. I cried and cried as I recalled the moment we found out we were expecting, the first time we heard his heartbeat, the first time we saw his face in the sonogram. As I watched my baby squirm and wriggle in discomfort, I thought of the first time I saw him as Gary brought him to my side, then the blur of events after--the nurses and doctors coming to the recovery room to tell us that something wasn't right, the week spent in the hospital and the days of wondering what all these "abnormalities" meant. And of course, the last month--the days after his procedure when things looked so positive up to today when we just don't know what the future holds.
I called my best friend Tiffiny. I talked, she listened. Then, a few minutes later, she called back. This time she talked, I listened. She read a note that I had written her in 1996. It spoke of our friendship during another difficult time in my life--the loss of my Pop-pop. She was there for me when I needed her most.
Then, at about 12:15 a.m., after a short break from the NICU, Gary and I returned to find our little boy being held by the arms that have held me up time and time again--my Dad's (Papa). Carter looked so peaceful in those arms, and later that night we talked for hours, the greatest source of encouragement I could have asked for. I realized that God does answer prayers. So I say "thank you, God" for sending me the love of a friend and a father.
Today, Carter's body is being put to the test. The doctors are trying another method to remove the fluid. They dropped the amount of fluid they are replacing and are also giving him diurretics (sp?) in hopes of purposely dehydrating him. They say it could make his body use the abdominal fluid to compensate. It seems as if it might be working. So far he is not dehydrated, all though he should be, and his drain is putting out less than before. We are hopeful.
It is difficult to see this as a step forward because he still looks so sick. He has blood in his stool now because of esophageal varises (a result of his liver and the portal hypertension). It is hard for him to eat because it must feel like an ulcer. He's on something like 20 meds and replacements.
He will get better. He has to. Carter has to grow up and tell of God's goodness and healing. That's the way this story ends. Right?