Da Mama

So, dear reader, what with all of my kvetching about Peter's poor (um, non-existent) sleep habits, you may be wondering how I've been getting on. Perhaps, dear reader, you are marvelling at my super-human ability to go nearly six weeks sans sleep, and thinking that I would make an excellent double-agent or other person likely to be tortured into giving up information. Well, dear reader, wonder and marvel no more. The secret is simple and time-proven: da mama. My mama, that is, or, in other words, Peter's Gram.

This is how it has gone: dear husband returns from work in the evening, and between the two of us we continue with the holding-Peter routine whilst preparing and eating our own dinner. Then I feed the dear lad (Peter, that is), and Mark takes over for a few hours while I take a nap. If it's a weekend, we rinse and repeat, but if not, I am on human-bassinet duty from about midnight until early morning. That's when da mama comes in.

I mean that literally: for two and a half weeks, my mother came over every single solitary morning around 6:30 to take over holding Peter for a few hours while I got some more shut-eye. Then she stayed with me for the entire day so that I could attend to such negligible personal care items as eating, showering and peeing, while also providing moral support and adult conversation (which I, being something of a delicate flower, am hopeless without). Da mama has since returned to the Monday-Friday work scene, but has continued her early-morning appearances on the weekends. And sometimes during the week.

So there you have it, dear reader, my dirty little secret: At the wise old age of thirty-one, I remain a mama's girl.

Peter and his Gram.

And, unrelatedly, a couple of pics of Peter with his Gramps. Dad had a very fussy Peter in his arms for all of three seconds before pronouncing that his troubles were all digestive. He's probably right, but the image of my dad as some kind of baby whisperer makes me giggle.

Things We've Tried Putting Peter In

As I've hinted rather subtly in earlier posts, trying to get Peter to sleep (or just be) somewhere other than his parent's arms has been a bit of a saga. This came as a surprise to us, as Peter had been more or less peacefully sleeping on his back in a little plastic bassinet for weeks in the NICU (before which he had been decidedly more peacefully sleeping on his tummy in an isolet). Lest you don't believe me, dear reader, the evidence is here:

A silver lining to having a hospitalized baby, I foolishly reasoned, is that the wee thing has, by the time he comes home, gotten used to being put down to rest. Unlike the scads of unlucky parents who bring their lads and lasses home fresh from the comforts of the womb, our young man would be used to sleeping flat on his back, on a firm mattress, and so would naturally continue this pattern when the amateurs took over his care. Not so. The following are the various receptacles that we've bought, borrowed or stolen in an effort to save our spines and put Sir Peter down:

The Crib

I remember the days, mid-way through my pregnancy, when I pored over Consumer Reports and formulated strong opinions about sleep safety. The safest place for a baby to sleep, I wisely informed anyone interested in our selection of a nighttime venue for our son-to-be (anyone? anyone?), is on his back in his own crib. Moreover, I read that SIDS risk is reduced when a baby sleeps in his parents' bedroom. Naturally, then, our child would sleep on his back, in a crib, in our bedroom. Why exactly did parents struggle with this choice? Enter Peter. This is Peter in his crib:

Note the prone position: Pedro is perfectly happy to lie, and even - gasp! - sleep for short spurts, in the lovely crib handed down to us by Mark and Pascale, so long as he is placed on his tummy. However, since this position is only medically sanctioned under close parental supervision, this makes sleeping at the same time as Peter something of a challenge. And so the crib has beeen moved to the nursery, where it has become something of an art installation.

2 Play Yards

We are in possession of not one but two slick Eddie Bauer play yards with bassinet functions (thanks to Pasc and Amber for the hand-me-downs!). Peter has so far spent a collective twenty minutes in these, mostly when I put him down for a few brief seconds while I attend to some business that can't be accomplished with him in my arms (this category does not include using the washroom ... sorry, have I shared too much?). I have not included a photo because it seems cruel to subject Peter to even a few minutes of the dreaded play yard solely for blogging purposes.

The Co-sleeper Cot

This was our first real diversion from the traditional sleeping arrangement. Thinking that perhaps proximity to his beloved parents would coax young Peter into sleeping peacefully in the supine position, I borrowed this little cot from Chris and Michelle. I guess it's hard to visualize without a photo (and the cot was too short-lived for me to have taken one), but it was basically a little bassinet that you put in the middle of parents' bed and anchored down under the mattress. Peter seemed to tolerate this slightly better than the crib, I think because it made him feel more contained, but, even swaddled and with both of us close at hand to rub his tummy, pat his head, and otherwise make vain attempts at soothing, he only made it about 5-10 minutes before waking up and howling. We made a few repeat attempts and then gave up the ghost.

The Car Seat

This receptacle showed great promise during Peter's first venture out into the non-hospital world (note that he is in fact sleeping in the carseat photo included in the NICU stay post). In fact, in the early days I resisted the temptation to place him in the carseat to sleep because I know they're not safe for long periods of time (an amusing warning issued to parents of newborns, who, as far as I can tell, don't sleep for long periods of time in any venue). Since then, however, Peter has regressed in the car-seat-sitting department. He seems relatively content in one so long as it is moving (either in the car itself or because someone is frantically rocking it while watching the clock, in an effort to prove that they have managed to get Peter to stay in something other than arms for a prolonged period), and also so long as he has the beloved pacifier in his mouth. A stationary car seat is another story.

The Weego Preemie

Ah, the Weego. It was a piece of dumb luck that we had already purchased one when Peter came home from the hospital. The Weego is a soft carrier made by, I think, a German company. Like so many feats of German engineering, it is simple and functional. The magic is that they make a "preemie" version that, unlike most carriers that have a minimum weight of around 8 lbs, is good to go from 4 lbs or so (and goes up to 25 lbs, which seems a lifetime away). They also are, as far as I know, the only company to make a carrier for twins, and had superb customer service. More importantly, however, Peter is in heart with the Weego:

Okay, so this does nothing for our ability to get some shut-eye, but it does allow us to carry Peter around while doing other stuff with our arms. And that is, as they say, a good thing.

The Stroller

When we shopped for a stroller, I never contemplated the possibility that Peter would object to being put in one. Thank goodness, he doesn't. That is, as long as said stroller is in constant motion (is it bad that we considered tethering it to a treadmill while we slept?). Although I know the attachment parenting police would object to my pushing Peter around in a stroller rather than wearing him in a sling, I think it's fair to wheel him around during a daily stroll given that we have him in our arms the other 23 hours of the day.

The particular stroller is the Bugaboo Bee. I love it. Some (including dear husband) will say that it's an overpriced umbrella stroller, but I am a big fan of its small size and manoeuvrability. Also, unlike an umbrella stroller, the Bee allows me to put Peter in a fully-reclined position and facing me (any NICU parent will appreciate that I need to see Peter's face at all times, having been trained to watch it for any signs of respiratory distress). Plus it folds up easily, is really cute, and has a good-size, easily-accessible storage basket. I will defend my purchase decision with my last dying breath.

The Amby Baby Motion Bed

This was our second attempt at a non-traditional sleeping arrangement, and one for which I still hold out hope (this may have something to do with the $400 I shelled out for it, yes?). The Amby Bed, which I think was developed in Australia, is this hammock thing that hangs from a steel frame. It rocks and sways slightly if the restless babe initiates movement, provides a slightly inclined sleeping position, and is supposed to replicate more closely the comforts of the womb (if you consider sleeping in cramped quarters surrounded by a goo composed of your own waste products comfortable). It is supposed to be helpful for preemies and for babies like Peter who struggle a bit with reflux. This is what it looks like (photo taken from their Canadian site):

Cosy-looking, n'est-ce pas? The first couple of attempts at putting Peter down in the Amby Bed met with some limited success. He would sleep for a half hour or so and then wake up, fuss a bit, and eventually, despite our fervent bouncing, tummy-rubbing, etc., cry. Still, this was better than previous alternatives. The lad then went through a "no way no how" phase with respect to the putting down, during which he never made it more than 10 minutes in any kind of receptacle. More recently, Mark has on four separate occasions gotten Peter to sleep for 2 hours or so in the Amby Bed using a method that involves swaddling, 20 minutes of rocking him in a seated position, 5 minutes of walking with him, 5 minutes of holding him and swaying in a kneeling position in front of the Amby Bed, and, finally, 5 minutes of swaying the Amby Bed slightly with Peter in it. However, this is a bit of a Polkaroo situation, as I have been unable to replicate Mark's results, and am always in a different room taking a much-needed nap when it happens. My hope is that as Peter gets a bit bigger and more mature, he will take to the hammock. I will keep you posted.

The Vibrating Chair

This one was not intended as a sleep receptacle, but rather a place that I could from time to time put Peter, perchance to, say, pee. The chair vibrates, has a little dangly thing intended to keep the babe interested, and plays music. Here's how it went:

As in so many pursuits, we're fine so long as the pacifier is firmly intact; however, some of you will recognize the "make it stop" posture from bath time ...

We lose the soother ...

... and we're done.

The Maman Kangarou Stretchy Wrap

This "invention" (if you can so call a large piece of hemmed fabric) is on par with the Weego in terms of Peter's affections, and is the lynchpin of the unorthodox napping arrangement that I can't tell you about, dear reader, lest you inform our Paediatrician. I'm a fan of the stretchy wrap for around the house, but it's a little cumbersome to wrap yourself in several yards of stretchy goodness when you're, say, in a shopping mall (not that I've visited such a place these last four months). Here I am, demonstrating the "hands-free" feature of the Kangarou wrap:

Looking Forward What will we put Peter in next? As mentioned, in terms of sleeping, I still have high hopes for the Amby Bed. For daytime use, it's been suggested that we try a motorized swing. Seems to make sense, given Peter's predilection for constant motion, but I haven't had the heart to spend the money on yet another thing that might not work. Do you know of a magic swing that will keep even the most discerning baby content? If so, please let me know.

Auntie Liane Stops By For a Bath (and makes herself useful by photographing the ordeal)

A few photos for your viewing pleasure (now dated by a couple of weeks). I am still working out the kinks in Peter's bathing routine, namely how exactly to find a time to bathe him at which he is (a) awake and (b) neither (i) hungry (and therefore prone to crying) nor (ii) full (and therefore prone to barfing). An intractable problem, as far as I can tell.

We bought the "Spa Baby Euro Tub" for Peter. It is basically a glorified bucket, and is supposed to make little ones hate baths less because more of them is immersed in the water, which is also kept warmer by the high sides, so they don't get quite as cold.

So far so good ...

Once we're out of the toasty warm water, however, bath time becomes an apparently very stressful experience - this is a Peter posture I've labelled "Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop!"

The finished product (thanks to Great Aunt Terry for the uber-cute outfit!).

And a cuddle with Dad (does anyone not see the resemblance?).

Shout-Outs

Peter, Mark and I wanted to take this opportunity to express our undying gratitude to some of those who made Peter's homecoming possible. Roughly in order of appearance, they are:

• Dr. Tom Hannam - the man (um, besides Mark, that is) who got us pregnant. You can check out Dr. Hannam's blog at http://www.fertility.ca/ (way to snag the URL ...). The thing that sticks out about Dr. Hannam's approach to patient care is that he and his team use email to communicate with patients (and he's always got his blackberry). Let me say that again: He is a doctor who responds to email from patients. Wow.
• Dr. Ori Nevo - words cannot express how thankful we are to Dr. Nevo, who was on-hand when things went sour with my pregnancy. Dr. Nevo was the first of many I credit with saving Peter's life, and I would recommend him to anyone seeking an obstetrician who will be there when it counts, both to give you the information you need to make a decision and to use his mad skills to do what must be done.
• Sue, Selina (sp?), and the High Risk Prenatal nursing team of Sunnybrook-at-Women's - these women know how to keep a lady pregnant (and also when it's time to get a baby safely out). They are also sincere and tireless in their efforts to treat not only the whole person, but the whole family. The six weeks I spent on "3 East" were immeasurably improved by their competence and their kindness.
• Dr. Habas - the High Risk Prenatal fellow for most of the time that I was a resident of 3 East. Can't go into the reasons why Dr. Habas is a cut above the rest without giving away far too much information for a public blog, but suffice to say his hands-on approach to patient care provided reassurance when I most needed it. He is a doctor who cares.
• The doctors and nurses of the Sunnybrook NICU who were on-hand in the delivery room to resuscitate Peter. I was in too much shock to have learned your names. Thank you.
• The Sunnybrook NICU nursing staff - We are so, so grateful for the kind, patient, and (yes, I believe it's true) loving care that you provided Peter. There are a few with whom our close interactions stand out in memory: Corinna (Peter's nurse that very first night as well as many days thereafter), Rita (came to my room to help me with the breast pump even though this was clearly not in your job description), Susan (always loved the way you talked to Peter), Nicole (gave me my first cuddle with my main man), Faith (was kind of scared of you, but learned to rely on your worlds of experience ... you even successfully predicted exactly when Peter would come home to us). Also one very special nurse whose identity remains a mystery: when I was wheeled into the NICU from the recovery room on the day Peter was born, I was encouraged to reach into the isolet and touch Peter's hand. A nurse said, "He knows who mom is - look at that heart rate drop!". My memory of the event is a blur, but I will always be very grateful to the unidentified nurse.
• Dr. Adrian Ziino - the attending neonatologist during Peter's first week of life. Dr. Ziino came to my room on 3 East to give me a run-down of Peter's condition, and was as encouraging as a neonatologist (a rather dour sort by reputation) can be.
• The nurse practitioners of the Sunnybrook NICU - Wendy, Amanda, Lee. These ladies are unbelievable helpers, who spotted and attended to Peter's medical issues with alarming efficiency, and were always available to answer all of our (very, very numerous ... okay, incessant) questions. I am humbled by your commitment to your profession.
• The doctors and nurses of the St. Joe's NICU - thank you for putting up with all of our anxieties. Also, special thanks to a few nurses who really made us feel like Peter was in good hands when we went home for the night: Beata, Manju, Maggie, Jennifer.
• Team Bring Peter Home - we have a truly dedicated group of friends and family, who busily went about the work of setting up our home for its most important resident so that we could spend all our waking hours at the hospital. Many thanks to: Joe and Esti (for picking up and disposing of all the old furniture in the room-formerly-known-as-guest), Mom and Liane (for a weekend spent painting said room to Peter's taste), Amber and Pasc (for IKEA runs, Toys 'r Us runs, general field-marshalling abilities, and our wonderful homecoming surprise), Jon and Mark (for putting together Peter's accoutrements, including a giant chest of drawers that I know must have taken forever and caused great frustration, although they didn't let on), Annie and Sana (for clothing young Peter according to the fashions of the moment), and Chris and Michelle (for still more Toys 'r Us runs, and for a freezer full of delicious, delicious food).

Finally, Peter would like to send a shout-out to all the brothers from other mothers still chillin' at the NICU. And I would like to send a shout-out to all the mothers of those brothers. And in particular, to Kathryn (a.k.a. Sebastian's mom) - unbelievably, you made the NICU a fun place to hang out. I'm forever in your debt.

Peter's NICU Stay in Photos

Early days in ths Sunnybrook NICU ... at this point Peter was on continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) to support his breathing, but the CPAP mask (which you'll see in photos below) was taken off every four hours so that the nurses could give his face a break and a little massage. These "handling" times were very special for us because we got to see Peter's little face.

Mum's first cuddle ... About a week into Peter's life (if you look closely you can see my IV in the picture), his nurse (Nicole - thank you!) gives me my first chance to provide kangaroo care, in which the baby is held skin-to-skin against the parent's chest. Kangaroo care is supposed to aid in a premature baby's development by regulating breathing and body temperature and promoting rest. If nothing else, it is a delightful way to spend an evening ...

First family photo.

Mark's first cuddle (I was a little annoyed that he was given more cuddle time than I was the first time, but tried to be a grown-up about it) ...

... and our second family photo!

The object in front of Peter's face is "blow-by" oxygen, which was placed near him in the early weeks while he was off the CPAP machine for handling times, to give him an extra boost. Back then he didn't last long before his nurse had to turn the CPAP back on. The tube in Peter's mouth was an oral-gastric (OG) tube, used to feed him my expressed breast milk because he was too young to coordinate sucking, swallowing and breathing. While the CPAP prongs were in his nose an OG tube was used, but when Peter was eventually taken off the CPAP for good they replaced it with a nasal-gastric (NG) tube. Peter delighted in yanking out the various lines, prongs and tubes he was subjected to in the NICU (a sign of things to come ...).

Peter gives us his Marlon Brando impression during a cuddle with Mum.

This was one of our favourite NICU photos of Peter, partly because he looks gigantic in it. The cast-like thing on his arm is his peripherally inserted central catheter (PICC) line, which is basically an IV that is inserted quite far into the body so that it doesn't need to be changed regularly, sparing Peter some pain and suffering.

A visit from Granddad and Uncle Nick.

A visit from Granny and a cuddle with Mum. This photo was taken just before Mother's Day. Peter was off the CPAP, taking all of his feeds by NG tube (rather than by IV), and ready to be transferred to level 2 care.

Nothing much going on here, except of course for Peter's general adorableness ...

... ditto.

A classic Peter face. This photo was taken at St. Joe's shortly after Peter graduated from an isolette (baby incubator) into a "cot" (which is one of those plastic basinets they put babies in at the hospital ... I like to think of them as baby bins). In those days Peter didn't object to being put down on his back. *Sigh*.

Me giving Peter a bath (a.k.a. water torture). There's also a video of this, ahem, experience, but I refuse to share it on the basis that I look far too awkward and amateurish.

Peter had to learn to bottle feed in the NICU because breastfeeding is very challenging for premature babies, but they still need to practise their suck-swallow-breathe coordination.

Me concentrating very, very hard on giving Peter a bottle.

Peter on the morning of discharge (i.e. homecoming) day. The night prior, Mark and I stayed in the "care-by-parent" room, in which parents are given an opportunity to practise caring for their child for a full 24 hours with the nursing staff just across the hall. Peter chose the moment we settled into the room to announce to the world that he was done with being put down to sleep. Anywhere. Ever.

A last family photo before leaving the hospital.

Peter is all set for the ride home, looking so, so tiny in his enormous car seat. I sat next to him in the backseat and watched his breathing like a hawk all five minutes of the drive from St. Joe's to our house.

When we got home, Amber and Pascale had decorated our house with balloons and "Welcome Home" signs, and had tidied up and left us treats. Thanks, girls! As if this day could have been any sweeter ...

Peter's Story

Peter was born at 27 weeks and 3 days gestation at Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre (Women's College campus) in Toronto. Since I had by that time been an in-patient in the High Risk Prenatal ward at Sunnybrook for nearly five weeks, we were extremely fortunate that the fabulous doctors and nurses of the hospital's Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) were standing by to resuscitate Peter and begin the long process of saving his life, and our family. As our little rock adjusted to the daily pokes and prods of the NICU and other inconveniences of life outside the womb, my complications begat complications, and I spent another two weeks in hospital (a blessing in disguise since this meant that Peter was down the hall instead of across town).

Peter was a resident of the Sunnybrook NICU for five weeks and one day. He was deemed medically stable and transferred to the "level 2" or "step-down" NICU at St. Joseph's Health Centre on Mother's Day, 2009. There, he continued to "feed and grow", in preemie-speak, and his Dad and I became more and more involved in his daily care. On June 17, 2009, exactly two weeks before his original due date (and four days before Father's Day), Peter's 75-day stint in the NICU, and our 107-day run of daily hospital life, came to an end when we brought our little man home.

Although the progress of an extremely premature baby is never entirely straightforward, we were unfathomably lucky that Peter experienced relatively few major complications during his NICU stay. We attribute this good luck (sticklers will notice that it's entirely illogical to attribute luck to anything ... but you know what I mean) to the phenomenal level of care that he received through our glorious public health care system, as well as to the kind thoughts, ardent prayers, and positive vibes sent our way by our dear families, friends and colleagues (more to come later on specific individuals to whom we owe particular debts of gratitude).

Welcome to my blog!

Hello! Thank you for reading, dear friend! Some of you will know that I have thus far staunchly refused to join the oodles and oodles of contemporary-minded folks that maintain an "online presence". I am not "on" Facebook or MySpace. I don't text or IM. I neither Twitter nor 'blog. Until now. After a fifteen-week stint spent at Women's College Hospital and St. Joseph's Health Centre, followed by nearly four weeks (!) of learning to look after young P dog (that's Peter for those of you not versed in thug) at home, I have determined that it's actually impossible to keep up with family and friends without reliance on this "information superhighway" I've heard so much about. Thus, the weblog. Here, I intend to keep you, dear reader, up-to-date on the wild and wacky world of parenting the li'l peanut, whose photo you'll see above (this is Peter en route home from the hospital - I believe he's contemplating his predicament, what with the amateurs taking over his care). But, first, we have some catching up to do ...