Disappointed but hopeful

So I was supposed to have a baby yesterday. And didn't.

Tuesday we got word that I'm Group Beta Strep positive this time around; I was for Madeleine too, and my doc just treated me for Dale and Rachel. The consequences for that are two doses of IV antibiotics before my water is broken and staying 48 hours after birth to make sure the baby is okay.

Well, before they started the IV, a scan was done on Elizabeth where we got an unpleasant surprise. She'd flipped herself into a breech position, where two weeks before she'd been head-down. I managed not to burst into tears but everyone in the room could tell I was disappointed and upset. The only one who knew I was scared too was my beloved husband.
My OB called and we talked about it. I spent the night at the hospital, got the antibiotics, and we hoped she'd flip back. She didn't so I came back home. Doc would have given me a C if I'd insisted, she might have tried to flip her first, but her opinion was to give Elizabeth a week to turn back on her own. I don't have blood pressure or diabetes issues, Elizabeth has been small throughout, it's my fifth delivery so I have four other kids at home to take care of, I'm only 38 weeks and change. There really wasn't a medically necessitating reason for a Caesarean.
I so wanted to deliver yesterday. My husband in his wisdom pointed out, "We agreed to an induction today. We didn't agree to a c-section today, with all that entails."

So I'm back home, still pregnant. I'm a touch nervous about going into labor before next Wednesday, which is Delivery Day For Sure. If she's flipped, it will be a regular induction. If not, we'll try to flip her but I may well be looking at a c-section. While I admit, I find that scary, I know others who have had one, two, three... even five. At least this way I've got time to prepare myself for it, where Tuesday night is was a dismaying surprise.

Louie's Penny Saga--Conclusion

Lou was cuddling his recovery nurse when I got up to his room. When he saw me, though, he leaned with arms outstretched.
"Can I feed him?" I asked her.
"If he wants to, sure," she said. Oh, he was ready to nurse then!

Since I knew hospitals aren't always timely with discharges, I ordered dinner for us. He fell asleep before it arrived but when I woke him up with strawberry yogurt to his lips he perked right up. We shared the yogurt, canned pears, pancakes, and orange juice; I let him have all of the milk and Cheerios. With food in his stomach, his sleepiness evaporated and he was back to his usual self--climbing, babbling, exploring. I was so relieved to have my Louie back!

Our nurse Carol was very concerned about his hand, though. The swelling, though considerably diminished, was still apparent. The color had come back to most of the area but some still looked blotchy and angry red.
She made sure I knew on the discharge papers to get seen by our usual pediatrician on Thursday. "I'm going to pray about that hand," she told me as I wheeled him out in the stroller.

Before bedtime, his hand had started to blister. I didn't know exactly what to do; it looked like a burn, but I knew it hadn't been heated. I did the common sense thing--clean and covered. The silvadine stuff came to mind but I went with Neosporin with pain relief instead.
By the next morning, the swelling was gone but the discoloration and damage remained. So, Thursday morning, that was the primary attention of the doc. He told me I had it wrapped better than he ever could (plenty of practice last month, Doc), and he asked if I'd used the silvadine. It should get treated as a burn, he told me.
Then he made contact with Dr. Cullen, who was the same one as had removed the penny. "He ran the burn unit at Children's," he told me. He was transferring us to that guy's care, since he was the expert.

Friday morning, we were in Dr. Cullen's office. He apparently had just transferred over since he told me (and the famous Dr. Rondon) of a two-page list of things he wanted available. "Silvadine and one-inch gauze need to go on the list too," he told us.
Most of the area is mild second-degree, but a spot about the size of a dime surrounding the first IV site looked third-degree. "I can't promise it won't have a mark," he said.

Eh. A spot the size of a dime on the back of his hand? As long as he has full function and no nerve damage, I don't care. I have my Louie back.

Now please, pardon me while I get him off the kitchen table. Again.

Louie's Penny Saga--Chapter 3

Why recap when you can scroll down?

Someone explained to me that his IV had gone out of his vein (during his fussing in the night, perhaps?) and continued to drain into the fat tissue under his skin. When it came out, it was draining clear fluid with traces of blood. Not good. Anyway, I was sure he was going to lose his hand.
Dr. Rondon, while concerned, wasn't panicked. "His thumb will come back to normal. Look, it's already fading. I'll come back and check on it in a few minutes."
True to his word, he came back three times in about the next 20. His fingertips had started to turn a healthy pink first, a fact I asked my day nurse Carol to pass on to him. Lou relaxed and went into an exhausted sleep which made me realize the discomfort in his hand was why he couldn't sleep the night before.
The resident who had explained what "IV went sub-Q" meant told me that Dr. Rondon, being the pediatric surgical resident, was the best person to catch it. He was the one who would be opening it up to release the tension and help the drainage, should it come to that (it didn't).
I was told to keep that hand elevated, which I did. At least until transport showed up to take us to X-ray--not long given Dr. Rondon's stat order. I cuddled him all the way down, he got strapped into the chair for the two pictures (front and side), and we went back. He returned to sleeping. So did I.

They came around on rounds, looked briefly at his hand, and noted as a group it looked grotesque. Ms. Resident assured the group that it had been "completely cyanotic" before and it was actually much improved. I was told we'd be going for surgery sometime that day to remove the coin.
Dr. Ibrahim, who had been one of the first faces I'd seen Monday, lingered after the group left. "Yes, you're on the list for surgery, but nobody can tell you when. It could be an hour, it could be five hours. It will be sometime today, though."

Lots of waiting, and it was all downhill from here until the surgery. He got another IV which caused no problems. Around 3 they came to get him while I walked down next to his crib. It's terrifying to watch your baby get wheeled away, for those who haven't done it yet. The whole procedure took maybe half an hour and a white-bearded Dr. Cullin brought out a penny in a specimen jar.
"It wasn't a quarter. It's never a quarter, they're too big," he said. A little while later, I got called that he was out of recovery and I could go back up to his room.

Louie's Penny Saga--Chapter 2

We arrived at the hospital. Louie had fallen asleep on the trip and he stayed that way while I rolled him in the stroller. I had no trouble from either security or the desk people in getting up to where we belonged; they did know we were coming.

Our first room already had a patient, a little boy on a trach tube in a crib. His parents had that Steve Martin--Queen Latifah movie going and loudly. I just tuned it out as I answered the questions: Lou's medical history, medications, what happened this time. When the first movie ended, they put on Apollo 13. I was wondering if they'd just let it go as it was close to midnight, but I guess they were listening to it (they sure weren't sitting where they could see the TV). I didn't even ask--Tricia our nurse brought up a room change, and we did that.
A while later Tricia started talking IV. Since Lou was NPO (meaning no food, no nothing), the docs wanted him on something. He'd need it for his surgery later--it wasn't a sure thing he'd need it but it was the prognosis at that point.
I acquiesced to the IV. I could have put it off, but they had the nurse from the pediatric ICU there who could do it. So I said yes.
They brought him back hooked up to his machine and I held him. He did NOT like the board his hand was taped to and tried to pull it off more than once. I resorted to what I had before when it was wrapped up after his burn--the socks I had in the diaper bag (thanks, Heather!). However, the machine kept beeping that it was "occluded," so Tricia came in around 2:30 and tinkered with it and retaped everything. We put his sock back on and my son and I tried to sleep.
Lou was restless, waking at least every 45 minutes just to cry and wrestle for five or ten, then give up and go back to sleep. I thought it was due to not being nursed, or too warm, or in a strange place, or something.
Various people came by through the night to ask about him, tell me they'd do another X-ray to see if the coin had moved and if not go in and get it. I was told they'd take him for the X-ray between 6:30 and 7.

It didn't happen. What did? Well, along about 8:45, Dr. Rondon came in to check him out, asked about the X-ray, and when he found it hadn't been done he put a "stat" on the order. I finally realized something wasn't right with Louie's arm. The skin seemed very taut, it wasn't bending well, the tape for his IV seemed very tight. I took off his sock.
His hand, swollen to twice or thrice its normal size, looked like it was made of wax.
"Um... Someone!" I called, too far from the phone to call my nurse. The door was open and, God bless him, my hero Dr. Rondon was out there.
"The tape for his IV seems really tight. Can I take this piece of it off?"
He looked over at me. "Yeah, you can do that. Let me check that out." He came right in and looked at Louie's hand. "Oh, this all needs to come off." He pulled a pair of scissors out of his pocket and started cutting tape.
"That isn't supposed to happen," he said, indicating Lou's hand. "His IV went sub-Q."

Louie's Penny Saga--Chapter 1

I'm posting this because it's been occupying me and mine for a few days now, as well as to let other parents know What To Look For. Lots of fun!

Our story begins way back on Friday with Dale's surgery. Lou spent nine hours away from me and since has forbidden me to use the toilet without his permission and supervision. He wails outside the closed door, beating on it, until I come out. We're not through weaning yet; does it show?
But on Monday, he managed to spend time with Daddy while he got dressed and I loaded the washer. Daddy suddenly called me with that tone--get here now! I found Louie coughing and spluttering, Daddy saying, "I don't know what he put in his mouth, whether he spit it out our swallowed it."
I took him on my hip and went back to loading the washer one-handed. Another minute or two of Louie coughing and he was fine. I thought whatever it was went to his stomach, and he just was clearing his throat.
Lunch came and went, he nursed just fine, all was well. However, that evening at dance class he coughed up some of the apple we'd been sharing. It was odd, too--not vomit, too wet to just have been in his mouth. Take note--keep watching.
After dinner he coughed up some spaghetti noodles as well, which was my last straw. "I'm taking him in, hon. Something is blocking the way."

To the pediatric urgent care we went, where he was his normal self--exploring everything, trying to walk outside, investigating the bathroom, grinning and climbing. He even begged Cheez-its from a complete stranger. He was charming.
They took an X-ray and determined that he had a coin in his esophagus. It was sideways, letting liquids and other very soft stuff (like chewed crackers) through but lumpy stuff wasn't making it.
The doc looked apologetic when he told me and started talking about staying the night in the hospital. "I'll call ahead so they have a bed ready when you get there."

Nuts.

My big girl is at the hospital.

Madeleine started wheezing at her cousin's birthday party this afternoon. It sounded worse than it has in the past, so I just asked my sister for her nebulizer and all.
For about half an hour, maybe 45 minutes, all was well. Then it returned just as bad as before.
We stopped on the way home to get a Frappuccino; Daddy remembered getting coffee when he'd have attacks as a child.
Her nighttime medication didn't kick it, either, so Daddy took her in.

She had an hourlong treatment (of what I don't know) and they X-rayed her lungs. They're keeping her overnight on oxygen and an IV (she threw up four times from their stuff). They do anticipate her coming home tomorrow (Monday), I think.

Daddy's with her.I know others who have left babies alone at the hospital, and Madeleine isn't alone, but this is my first time.
Frankly, I'm terrified. Since we've got a pretty good praying contingent, can I ask that?

Second verse, same as the first.

UPDATE 8/11/08 9:25AM: They're keeping her until tomorrow as her lungs don't look as clear as they'd like. There's an in-room DVD player so she'll be watching Princess Bride, Holly Hobbie, and whatever else she wants ad infinitum.
Thank you all graciously for your prayers.