I was admitted to the hospital late Tuesday night (after being told that there were no rooms available and we would need to call back later). We slept fairly well that night, anticipating the arrival of Livvy the next day. Petosin was started in the morning to move the delivery along. I felt great. All was well! They broke my water about midday, and things moved quickly from there. We made a call to Matt's parents and my mom to head down to the hospital with Siena...little Livvy would be here any time! My epidural was great, working well, and I started pushing about 3:00. At 4:00, I was still hard at work, wondering a little bit what was taking so long...she was right there! And then, everything changed.
The second Livvy arrived into the world, she aspirated an incredibly uncommon amount of meconium (meaning her in first breath of life she completely filled her lungs with a brown tar like substance). Within seconds of this happening, there were at least 10 NICU doctors and nurses in our delivery room. There were no sweet baby cries, no "oohing and ahhing" over the precious newborn, no holding tiny hands and feet...Livvy was immediately taken to another table where the doctors frantically worked to save her precious little life. It was hard to see what was going on from my bed. Matt was standing between me and our Livvy. I kept looking at his face to get a feel for what was going on. He kept looking at me, saying, "It's okay...it's okay." But it was obvious from the concerned look on his face that it wasn't.
After somewhat stabilizing her little body, the doctors wheeled Livvy to my bed and told me to stick my hand in her isolette. I'll never know exactly what their reasoning for that was -- and that's perfectly fine with me. I put my hand over hers...there was no life in it. She just laid there, still and motionless. There was a little oxygen mask and bag over her face. She was a greyish-pale color and very swollen. They rushed her down the hall, Matt following right behind. The only people remaining in the room were my nurse, the doctor who delivered Livvy, and a resident doctor. I remember laying my head back, tears streaming down my cheeks, thinking, "This is NOT how this is supposed to be. I'm supposed to be holding a little baby on my chest right now, Matt by my side, smiling at our precious little girl." Instead, only silence filled the room. That and a strange, obvious, God-given peace. No one knew what to say...
Matt would come back every once in a while to give me an update. Her Apgar scores were 2s and 3s. Her blood-oxygen levels were crazy low. Her acid levels were really high. I didn't know what any of that meant at the time, and really, I don't know if I really wanted to. I just wanted to see her. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to know that everything was okay and it was just a little bump in her road.
I'll let Matt take over and explain how he felt as he watched her being worked on by the doctors:
A father is supposed to protect his little girl, to make sure she is alright, safe and smiling. The first moments of Livvy's life, I couldn't do any of that. All I could do was watch as the doctors and nurses tried to save her life. I felt helpless, terrified and also felt a calming spirit as I knew God was in control. It was the most strange mix of emotions I had ever felt in my life. As Livvy was wheeled down to the intensive care unit I prayed to God, "Please, just let me know if I need to freak out right now." I am honest when I say I felt Him say every so quietly, "You just be there for her, let the doctors work, I am in control." I had no idea if that meant at the time she would make it or not, but I understood my role was to just pray, do what was asked of me and watch the doctors do what they had been trained to do. There were about 10 people in a little room working on Livvy. Nurses were rushing around, doctors barking orders in concerned voices, and a surgeon standing in the middle of the room with scrubs and a mask on with her hands in the air so as not to be contaminated, waiting for her moment to work. It was incredible to see them work so efficiently and put so much concerted effort and focus to save my daughter's life. Of course, I was crying the entire time, but forced myself to watch, never wanting to forget what it looked like. I kept rushing back to Adri to give her updates, then sprinted back down to check on Livvy. At one point, once they got her stabilized, the surgeon was having trouble getting the IV in her umbilical chord because Livvy was moving too much. They called me over and said, "Dad, we need you to put your hands on her chest and talk to her." As soon as I began to speak, Livvy immediately stopped moving and relaxed. I tried to keep talking, fighting through the tears to keep my voice strong. I remember saying, "You've got a lot of people praying for you. You stay strong." After they got done with that procedure, I walked back to Adri's room with a doctor to get the scoop on where Livvy was officially at. We asked a lot of questions. Now I'll turn it back over to Adri.
Nobody had answers. "We'll just have to see how she responds..." were words I kept hearing.
I was finally brought to the mother-baby unit where again, I was in an empty room...without Livvy. I had trouble (again) going from my wheelchair to the bed. I almost passed out and had trouble gathering myself, but got it together quickly. I wanted to go see Livvy. Matt was the ever-wonderful father who kept a very close eye on his girl.
A little while later, I was wheeled down to the NICU to see Livvy. Upon arrival, I was very taken back. I didn't know what to expect, but you never want to see you little one covered in cords. She had a little oxygen mask on her face and IVs (antibiotics) in her umbilical cord. I put my hand in her isolette and it just felt strange. I couldn't make a connection to her. I couldn't bring myself to talk to her. It was a very surreal moment. Tears fell down my face and I just looked at her. I prayed for her. I didn't know what else to do. Matt was more comfortable around her at that point and talked to her and moved around the isolette really well. I couldn't do it.
The doctor told us Livvy's tests were so "rough" that she didn't know which way Livvy would go, and only time would tell...and that's where little Livvy started turning a major corner. In the middle of the night, one of the NICU nurses went to check on Livvy. She panicked because she saw Livvy with the oxygen tube out of her nose and in her hand! She had pulled it out all on her own...and was still breathing - on her own!! From there, they gradually decreased her oxygen amounts in her isolette until she was in a "free air" crib - and doing great! Because of her strides there, I was able to start nursing her (and holding her!) about 24-36 hours after she was born. That was when the forever bond was formed. Holding Livvy for the first time was AMAZING. Words just don't describe it. She still had her IV in her umbilical cord and was still in the NICU, but she was surprising everybody. Doctors continued to look at her (in amazement) and kept giving green lights for her progress. No one was giving us a discharge date yet - just a "...we'll see...". She passed the "open air crib overnight test", the nursing test, the weight gain test...we just had to wait on blood cultures to see if the IV/antibiotic was taking care of the infection. That could have been a 10-day stay.
I was technically discharged from the hospital on Friday morning. Thank the LORD for "hotel rooms" in the hospital. Just down the hall from the NICU. We were able to stay in the hospital, just down the hall from Livvy. That was a blessing I'll never take for granted. I was able to walk down to the NICU every 3 hours to feed her. We could go in there any time we wanted to sit with her...hold her...take a nap by her...be by her. The next day, Saturday, May 19, we took Livvy home with us. She passed her hearing screening, her car seat screening, the blood cultures came back normal. She was a healthy, beautiful baby girl - and we were taking her home.
Those few days were unlike anything I have ever experienced. The highs and lows were incredible. The prayers and the love that we felt from friends, family, and our wonderful doctors were unmatched. Dr. Carr saved our little girl's life, we will never forget her (and Matt says he will never forget how she controlled the NICU room and people in it who helped save Livvy). Prayers comforted us and carried us through that difficult time. We picked a life verse for Livvy that day: "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9. God was very near to us in that time - we felt that undoubtedly. We are better people because of the experience and Livvy has just set her bar - she's going to be a fighter. And we love her dearly for it.
Right after Livvy was born...
In the NICU, seeing her for the first time.
Momma and Daddy love their little girl!!
Out of the isolette and into the real world!!
Daddy holding Livvy for the first time.
Free of most of her help!
Cord free and in her open-air crib! Free birdie!
Dr. Carr, the wonderful doctor who worked so hard to ensure that Livvy was going to be alright. She is a blessing to us and someone we'll never forget or be able to thank enough.
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