Feed! October 25 - 28, 2003 priorities are set, plans clear, directives unambiguous.

	Tom is showing a mild interest in where the food comes from

I had originally thought that after those five sleepless nights and delivery, I would sleep like a log, but nothing could be farther from truth. I lay in my hospital bed and was so proud of us and Tommy that I felt like a little kid during Christmas. Everybody was telling us how beautiful and frisky baby Tom was, even the friendliest nurse from pre-labor came by to congratulate.

At nine in the evening they issued me an electric pump and instructions to try as soon as possible to get Tom something proper to eat. Hence I got rid of wires to monitors and IV hoses, but nightly waking was not to be over. Of course I know that it will be this way for a while now.

I rewarded myself with a shower in the morning, and with a solid breakfast (my apologies for constantly mentioning food, but I've been so hungry!), and then Sid came, loaded me on a wheelchair and took me to see Tommy. A nurse let me change his diaper, which turned out a much more taxing deed than I expected. Our "poor preemie" showed fighter skills and even though I overpowered him in the end, with a shame I must admit it took two of us (the nurse had to help me). It seems that strength and resistance is not something Tom's missing.

	Sleeping is almost eating Tommy is ready to make his bed on his "dinner table"

Gaps between visits at NICU were filled with paper war. First we wanted to arrange for a birth certificate as soon as possible, to get poor Tom quickly rid of Páralová surname; further we submitted a request for social security number -- until you have it, you don't exist. Sid also tried to overcome a hospital procedure, which requires all medical records for a child to be entered under his mother's name (hence Tom Páralová), for which I am grateful as my energy was all spent already.

Sunday was the day I would be released from the hospital, and I naturally looked forward to it a lot. If I stayed longer, I would be conveniently close to Tom, yet I admit I had enough of even this hospital - mostly because of sleep deprivation and never-ending excitement all around there. They had brought me another roommate -- this time a very nice and unproblematic, but I could not take it anyway. There must have been some sunspots (Sid's note: as a matter of fact, there were, very strong ones) -- the hospital staff seemed confused, I received contradicting information regarding procedures of my release, and everybody as a rule (including a chap who brought lunch, doctors, nurses, social worker, lactation consultant...), all came to see me exactly at moments when I was wrestling with the pump. Naturally, neither one of them would even think about waiting for me to finish, none would respect my privacy curtain. I started feeling like a record-winning milch cow at a county fair. Still, neither of the aforementioned professionals could tell me, whether the hospital would rent me a pump to take home with me, or would give me any consistent advice on what EXACTLY I should do to arrange it. I could not leave without a pump (I could then probably forget about a chance to breastfeed), and trying to scrounge up a pump somewhere in the Valley on Sunday afternoon did not seem a good prospect (mostly since a leaflet from a rental place indicated they were open Mon-Fri, 10-4).

	Captain Nemo Tom having a photo therapy

Sid eventually raised his voice a few times, to conjure the lactation consultant, who was allegedly moving around the hospital with a pump for us, yet no one could tell us WHERE she was moving and WHEN she would arrive. After we finished our sixth hour of waiting (counting since morning), I began to understand, that she might be some mythical creature who's existence is known to everybody yet nobody has really seen her for sure. After we literally seized and held one of the department desks, showing no willingness to leave until we get a clear and satisfactory answer, the desired person showed up, all surprised that no one would tell us that she had us on her list for two o'clock.

Grasping our rented pump firmly, we could finally go to say bye to Tommy and drive home. We happened to come to his bed just as they were sticking another IV cannula into his other arm. I myself went through this procedure twice lately and must say that it is about as pleasant as a serious dental procedure without anesthetics. I confess that the whole birth did not disturb me as deeply as a look at my morphine-soaked tot, and a nurse with a heap of torture instruments. While I slowly recovered in a corridor, Sid chased away a spaced-out looking other nurse and assisted at this operation himself.

Coming home felt very weird -- no more pregnancy ailments, but no baby either. Sid took time off work on Monday and Tuesday, to be able to stay with Tommy whenever possible. A NICU nurse surprised us by offering to let us try breastfeeding. Well, Tom has visibly some idea what's expected from him - he opens his mouth, smacks his lips, turns head to side where he senses the source, but in practice it is somewhat worse. The nurse said that is was quite probable his was still too small to feed. We had also hit a time when he was more interested in sleeping than food, and Sid's explaining that a proper Hippo must be regularly fed did not seem to help.

We tried breastfeeding again on Tuesday. Results were a little better, Tom had moments of interest and sometimes tried to swallow, but it could not be considered a rhythmical eating. Fortunately they know how to deal with kids like that at the hospital, and whatever I pump, they stuff into him somehow. Besides a light "newborn jaundice", Tom has no other troubles, so gaining weight and strength has been the only big goal for us. It seems that he might be transferred soon to an "intermediate nursery". We looked forward to that, as the place where he was is an unbelievably busy room, a kind of ER for very sick tiny babies, with literally dozens of specialists rushing around and up and down among frightened relatives. I think that some tranquility is just what we need, all of us.

Copyright © 2003-2004 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.