Getting Caught Up

I consider myself to be fairly objective and logical, able to see things as they are, as opposed to seeing them through a lens clouded by bias and emotion. Which makes it all the more maddening, when Hannah flashes her gummy grin, to see myself transformed into a driveling Elmer Fudd on helium. She's just too darn cute for my own good. I know that I'm just expressing eons of evolutionary programming designed to trick me into taking good care of helpless little creatures with oversized heads and large low-set eyes, but I'm already prepared to hand over the car keys if she asks. Good thing I have a few years to steel myself against her charms.

I couldn't decide which of the following pictures to post, so here's both of them. I noticed yesterday that there was a spot of sunlight coming through a high fake-stained-glass lunette window (that means "half circle", for you guys out there) in the guest bedroom, that would make a good spotlight for a portrait.



We visited the pulmonologist (lung doctor) on thursday, to get Hannah's monthly RSV shot and a quick checkup. It was amusing to watch the doctor flip back and forth between last month's report and this month's report when checking her weight gain, muttering "three pounds?". Apparently, preemies on oxygen don't typically gain weight as well as Hannah has been doing, since they use up calories breathing that would otherwise go toward growth. Hannah was 7 lbs 15 oz last month and 10 lbs 11 oz this time.

The doctor avoids any firm estimate of when Hannah can ditch the cannula, probably so that we don't subconsciously rush her into it or build ourselves up for disappointment or worry if we don't hit a certain date. But he seems to agree that since she has gone from 400 ml to 125 ml in the past two months and is still gaining weight like gangbusters, she probably won't need it more than another month. In any case, we've gotten pretty used to the oxygen routine, so it isn't a big issue. The only time it really gets in the way is when she's laying on her stomach for "tummy time", which is how they exercise the neck and shoulder muscles prior to crawling. When in that position, the nasal cannula rubs against the play mat and tends to pop out of her nose.

We're finally getting caught up with chores after the holidays. My mom was here for the month before Christmas, and I'm afraid we got spoiled not having to do all the chores ourselves. Between work and crucial baby care duties (like singing the Gilligan's Island theme song to get a smile), there just doesn't seem to be enough time to clean floors and wash clothes.

Merry Christmas!

Ever had one of those days when you smile so much your face hurts? My face hurt after we visited with several charter members of the Hannah Blog Fan Club on Sunday. The first stop was Carla's parent's Sunday School class, many of whom I've known almost as long as I've known Carla. They've been following the blog since day one and were pretty excited to finally meet Hannah in person. Next, we met up with Velma and Aunt Rena at my mom's house.


I think it would be safe to say that Hannah was not starved for attention this Christmas. We spent Christmas at Carla's parent's house, along with my mom and Rena, and Carla's sister Cat and husband Jon. Ate too much and probably sampled too many spirits.


And here's Hannah in one of her first Christmas outfits. She has several more to take us all the way through the twelve days of Christmas.


I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and are taking stock of all your blessings, as we certainly are. And please spare a moment of thought and prayer for those families that spent this holiday season in the NICU, and for all those that have lost a child before their first Christmas. And especially for little Ethan Powell and his family, who are fighting the odds to beat leukemia. In the face of what would be unbearable stress and worry for the rest of us, Ben and Becky are embracing every day with Ethan and showing us exactly how life should be cherished, one day at a time.

Road Trip

We're in Shreveport/Bossier this weekend, visiting the grandparents and other folks for the holidays. Hannah handled the car trip perfectly, even though we got stuck in an hour of holiday traffic leaving Dallas. She's on 1/8th liter (125 milliliters) of oxygen per minute, which is a low enough flow that the travel tanks should last forever. We brought the oxygen concentrator machine along anyway (it pulls the oxygen out of the air, providing an unlimited supply), and just use the tanks when we leave the house.

Before we hit the road, Troy and Kellye stopped by to visit Hannah. I've known Troy since college and our previous job (working for Carla's mom writing software for a magazine-on-diskette), and we started at Texas Instruments at the same time18 years ago. We still sit across the hall from each other.


Tomorrow we'll be visiting several of our friends that have been glued to the blog for months but haven't yet met Hannah. That should be fun.

Chunky Monkey

Uncle Gabe started calling Hannah "Chunky Monkey" about 6 pounds ago. I think she's finally grown into the name.


We put up a tree this weekend, so we could hang up Hannah's first Christmas Tree ornament, from long-time family friend Jan (who happens to be a professional doll-maker).


Hannah's started noticing the toys we put on the play mat, and you can almost hear the wheels turning in her tiny brain as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. Here she's studying the stuffed lion from Aunt Mel.


Tonight was the last visit from the nurse that has been checking on Hannah since she came home. Sad, because we'll miss Norma (although she promised to come back to visit), but happy because this means that Hannah is healthy enough that she doesn't need home nursing visits! She's still on 150 milliliters of oxygen per minute, down from 250 when she first came home, but she's gaining weight, eating well, and developing normally.

As usual, we're way behind on our holiday shopping and mailings, and there don't seem to be enough hours in the day to get everything done before Christmas rolls around. But this will most definitely be our best Christmas ever, because we've already gotten our present and she's more than we dared hope for. Thanks again to all of you that have been sending cards, gifts, emails, and prayers. We can't thank you enough, and we'll never take you for granted.

We Have a Winner!

Not that it matters . . . everyone eligible for the contest prize seems to be enthusiastically disinterested in the preemie diapers. Rick, Butch, Rex, and Velma all hit on the right answer, in that order, and Belvia gets an honorable mention for "vasectomy tray". The correct answer for the previous post's brain teaser is . . . an X-ray shield for infants. They do a lot of X-rays in the NICU, and although they are very small doses not much higher than the background radiation we all get in a day, why risk it? The Save the Gonads company makes tiny X-ray shields that keep the reproductive organs safe, just in case. And in case you were wondering, yes, girls have gonads, too. While the slang usage of the term is generally aimed at males, the medical definition includes both testicles and ovaries. Isn't that fascinating?


We bundled Hannah up this morning for a monthly visit to the pediatrician, and she is still wowing the doctors with her progress. She's up to 9 lbs 11 oz now, knocking on that 10 pound door. We got the OK to space out the night time feedings from 3 hours to 4, which might net us a bit more sleep. We also got the OK to drive into Shreveport for Christmas. Hannah's first road trip!

We went yesterday to the baby shower of Hannah's birthday twin. Carter was born on the same day as Hannah, and should be going home any day now. Grandma Minor stayed home to babysit Hannah, and we had a good relaxing time hanging out with a great group of folks at the Landon Winery in McKinney.

Hannah Mannequin

At 9 lbs 5 oz, Hannah is finally big enough to wear the groovy duds Aunt Mel sent her many weeks ago. The sunglasses are still a bit big, so I took the earpieces off long enough to snap a picture. I can't say that Hannah was particularly cooperative as we were balancing oversized glasses on her nose, but she was certainly tolerant. She even went the extra mile and gave us a Ray Charles impression.


While we had Hannah in clotheshorse mode, we tried out some accessories that have special meaning. The pink hat below was knitted by Carla's Grandmother Anna Hoffpauir. She made hundreds of these infant hats as a volunteer at East Jefferson Hospital in Metairie, in the years before she passed away in 2002. The yellow booties were Carla's (she liked to chew on the tassels), and her little sister Cathryn wore them, too (hopefully after a good washing).


And I'll leave you with a brain teaser. I spotted the object below near Hannah's bed while we were in the NICU. It's about the size of a coaster, thin but heavy. I'll let you figure out what it is. First one to guess correctly wins a package of free preemie diapers, which still fit Hannah but not her bladder capacity. I'll post the answer in the next blog entry.

A Taste of Freedom

Hannah's oxygen requirements have been dropping over the past few weeks, to the point that she doesn't really need the nasal cannula every minute of the day. She still wears it as a booster during these early weeks of rapid growth, but I can now clean or change out the cannula or replace the adhesive without worrying about her de-satting during the process.

Today, she was satting so high while I had the cannula off that I went ahead and removed the oxygen monitor, too, and took a stroll into the kitchen so Carla and Grandma could see what an untethered baby looks like. Hannah was immediately fascinated by the bright fluorescent kitchen lights, as you can see below.

60's Fashions

This isn't just a hand-me-down, it's a hand-me-way-down. Carla wore this outfit when she was just a few weeks old. Her mom mailed it over so Hannah could dress as stylishly for the holidays. In the interest of maintaining a peaceful household environment for Hannah's sake, I won't divulge exactly how many years ago Carla wore this. But it was sometime between the 1968 Olympics and the 1969 moon landing, if that helps.


Hannah's been transfixed by her play gyms lately (a soft mat with an arched frame over it, from which toys dangle). And I tend to get transfixed by Hannah's transfixation. And my Mom gets transfixed by the transitive transfixation, except when she's snapping pictures that remind me how relieved I am that Hannah doesn't look too much like me.


If you saw some of the goofy faces we make when trying to get Hannah to smile, you'd smile too. And maybe cringe. But Hannah has not yet learned to be judgemental.


I wear Hannah's smiles to work with me these days, and just let people wonder what I've been smoking.

Old Friends and New Friends

We had a visit tonight from our good friends Neal and Jeanette and their son Nikolaus. Carla and I met Neal on the same trip to Europe where we met each other, and we've been close ever since.


Hannah's smiling a lot these days . . . big gummy smiles. But I haven't really caught one on camera yet. Here's a slight smirk that will have to do for now.


Hannah's friend Norma, who has been checking in on her daily at first, then three times a week for the past few weeks, will only have two more once-weekly official visits. The visits, while reassuring and enjoyable, are no longer medically necessary according to the insurance company. We'll miss her and hope she stops by just to visit now and then.

Holding Hannah

Because I have accumulated some pictures, of Hannah in various people's arms, that haven't made it onto the blog yet, I've decided to make today's theme "Holding Hannah".

These photos all had some sort of lighting, composition, or focus problem that I cleaned up the best I could, and that's why they haven't appeared until now. But I've decided to lower my standards, since I know most people don't even notice the things that I see as flaws.

Carla's Mom

Carla's Dad

That would be me. Ignore the weird reflection from the mirror on the side of my head. As a matter of fact, just ignore my weird head.

Carla's sister Cat and her husband Jon. Ignore the fact that the camera focused on the painting in the background and not on any of the people. I'll eventually learn how to tell the camera not to be so damn smart.

Eight Pounds, Three Ounces

You may have noticed that I haven't posted in a few days. That's partly because my mom is still here and she's responsible for half the blog traffic anyway, and partly because there's not much new going on.

Hannah has shown us a few "social smiles", which means that they are unlikely to be the kind caused by random facial expressions or gas. She makes and holds eye contact and sometimes smiles when we do. She's fascinated by faces, mobiles, and things hanging on the walls. Her digestive system is working splendidly and causing many impromptu cycles of the washing machine, when the diaper filling and diaper changing cycles inadvertently intersect.

Couldn't decide which of these two pictures to post, so here's both (narrowed down from 10).

Hanging with Grandma

You'd think my mom had never seen a baby before, seeing the way Hannah has reduced her to a driveling fawner. You might then wonder just how unsightly me and my siblings must have been as infants, the way she carries on about about how beautiful Hannah is. I admit I think Hannah's pretty darn cute, but she's the first baby I've paid much attention to, and I'm assuming my opinion is clouded with bias. But, since Mom's been cooking dinner, folding clothes, doing dishes, changing diapers, and taking the occasional feeding, I'll keep my thoughts to myself for now. Or maybe I'll post them on a public blog that my Mom checks several times a day.

Anyway, Mom hates seeing pictures of herself, but I caught her with both hands full so she couldn't hide behind them this time.

Pulmonologist (Lung Doctor)

Hannah visited the lung doctor today. No big surprises, but he said we can probably stop one of the breathing treatments as long as she's not having any wheezing attacks. We're probably still looking at another month or more on the oxygen, but we sort of expected that.

Hannah got a visit yesterday from some charter members of Team Hannah. Eliot, Chris, Amy, and Alex Johnson (left to right) have been praying hard and lending support since day one, and we've been looking forward to this get-together. Too bad Hannah slept through the whole thing. I offered to wake her up with the ice-cube-on-the-leg trick, but everybody but me seems to think that's cruel or something.


And of course I'm still annoying Carla and Hannah with the camera. Remember that for every picture you see on the blog, I've probably taken a dozen more that either didn't make the cut or are intended for the archives.

Grandparents Galore

All of Hannah's grandparents drove into town today. This is the first time my mom has seen Hannah since she came home from the NICU, and I'm not so sure we'll ever get her to leave. They came bearing gifts from lots of Hannah's friends in Shreveport and Bossier . . . again we're overwhelmed by the kindness. Books, clothes, blankets, toys. This child will never be bored, cold, or badly dressed, I can promise you that.

Below is a matching cap and blanket from Aunt Rena.

Thanksgiving

Hannah's first Thanksgiving took place in the most appropriate surroundings I can imagine. Because of work schedules, our family is actually celebrating Thanksgiving a couple days late, on Saturday. So today we went up to the NICU and spent Thanksgiving with some other preemie parents whose babies are still in the NICU. It was great to see some of the people we got close to during our stay and check on the progress of their babies, and one of Hannah's favorite doctors was there carving turkey, along with his own preemie daughter (now four) and his wife.

The amazing thing was that this whole meal, which served a couple dozen folks in style, was mostly provided and set up by a couple whose little boy is still in the NICU (he's doing well and will probably be home for Christmas), for the other parents that would otherwise be hanging around the NICU today anyway. Considering our own state of mind while Hannah was still in the hospital, and the logistical challenges of feeding even a dozen people, the fact that Sean and Chelle took the time to do this for their fellow NICU parents makes them heroes in my book. These are the same folks that gave Hannah a customized photo frame on the day she left the NICU (see below). They run a company that produces unique hand-made accessories and decorations for children's rooms.


We all had a great time and great food. Carla made her pumpkin-fluff mini-pies. We met some parents that are relatively new to the NICU, at the point we were three months ago, and I hope that seeing Hannah plump and sleeping peacefully gave them some reassurance that their children, too, in time, will go home happy and healthy.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving as well, and that all the things for which you gave thanks continue to flow through your lives and into the lives of those around you.

How's Hazie?

A couple people have asked how Hazie (the dog) is adjusting to the new world order. You might remember from a previous post that Hazie can't be trusted around children and has been sequestered to the den. Fortunately, she doesn't seem to mind at all, as long as we go out to the den and play several times a day. Playtime involves running the RC truck or laser pointer so she can chase them around . . . that's her job.

She has also, now that she spends most of her days in the den with a view into the back yard through the french doors, appointed herself sheriff of the back yard, and barks her fool head off every time she sees a squirrel or cat out there. She has always done this, but before now she didn't really realize that there are pretty much always squirrels or cats in the back yard, and probably assumed they only showed up when she went outside. She has a dog door, so she could enforce the law if she wanted to. But she is mostly content sticking her head out the dog door and barking until the offender departs or I tell her to shut up.

It's also amazing that we can now vacuum the entire house without having to empty dog hair out of the vacuum cleaner after each room. Of course, when I vacuum the den, I get enough dog hair to stuff a pillow.

Anyway, Hannah is doing great, up to 7 lbs 6 oz. She kept us awake crying last night (that is, she was crying, we were awake) for the first time. Normally she fidgets and gurgles during the night but not enough to keep us awake. We suspect she was just hungry, so we're going to increase the size of her meals a little.

Octuplets

Nothing new to report today. Just a photo of the babies (click to zoom).


In answer to your first question, yes, those are all Hannah. In answer to your second question, Photoshop. As for the third question, no, that's not a real tiger skin. But it's a pretty cool facsimile, huh?

Hannah Macarena

I suppose I'll have to start considering the fine line between using your child as a photographic prop and child abuse. But I probably have a few years before Hannah will be able to go online and be horrified at what I've done.

Here is exhibit A:



Exhibit B should be ready tomorrow.

Hannah's Big Night Out

Partly to see how well it would work, and partly because Carla had a craving for chicken-fried steak, we loaded up and headed to the Black-eyed Pea for dinner. Hannah slept the entire time, of course. We went fairly early to avoid the crowds, but still obsessed about surfaces that could harbor RSV and anyone that got close enough to sneeze in Hannah's face. Neither was an issue.

We've gotten the carrier, oxygen tank, and monitor routine down . . . all we have to be careful of is that we have a bottle of Purell and twice as much oxygen as we think we'll need. And that I don't trip over the tubes and wires if there's no video camera around to make it Youtubeable.

This was a good exercise to prove to ourselves that we aren't really prisoners in our own house. It may still be house arrest, but at least we have restaurant visitation rights.

Breathing Easier

For the first two weeks Hannah was home, we frequently had to tweak her oxygen up from .25 liters to .35 or .40, to keep her saturation levels above 90%. Yesterday, she went all day at .25 liters. This could be a sign that she's becoming less dependent on the supplemental oxygen. Once she can go for several days with saturations above 95% at .25 liters, she may be ready to come off the oxygen. Of course, the pulmonologist will be the one to make that decision.

For those of you with broadband access, click here to see a quick video (7MB) of Hannah looking bored but alert. For those without high-speed internet, here's a photo to tide you over.

Seven Pounds

Actually, 7 lbs 1 oz. Not much else to report. Hannah went in for her weekly checkup at the pediatrician, and the doctor and nurses were very pleased with her growth and alertness. Unfortunately, they showed Hannah their appreciation by sticking her with four needles all at once. These were her second round of vaccinations, and they figure that if she has to be uncomfortable, they might as well get it over with quickly. So two nurses stand on either side and each do two injections in Hannah's legs, while I hold Hannah's arms and watch her turn beet red and exercise her lungs.

Eye Test

We took Hannah in for a scheduled eye exam today and learned that her retinas are developing as expected. She may still have vision problems (many preemies do), but she has managed to avoid the more severe retinopathy of prematurity (ROP) that is common in 24.5-week infants.

The eye test was not a pretty sight. Carla chose not to watch at all. Hannah chose not to be present at the proceedings, but lacked the mobility to act on that decision. While we were still in the waiting room, the assistant came out to put drops in Hannah's eyes to dilate them (open up the pupils). Since infants can't be asked to hold their eyes open and look at the light, a tiny metal retractor was used to hold her eyelids apart, and another to hold the eye still. This took only a few seconds for each eye, while the doctor glimpsed in with a pair of goggles and a handheld magnifier, but Hannah screamed like a banshee throughout, much like any of us would if someone held us down and put things in our eyes.

Fortunately, the attention span of infants is limited, and she forgot all about this experience within seconds of it being over.

What's Missing Here?

I had to change out Hannah's nasal cannula tonight and I remembered to take a picture of her without that thing on her face. The red spot near her ear is where the adhesive patch was. I move it around slightly each time I change the cannula to give her skin some exposure, although the patch is designed to breathe and not irritate her skin.

You may have noticed that Hannah has red mark down the middle of her forehead and on her left eyelid. They call this a "stork bite" (or "angel's kiss", "salmon patch", or if you want to sound smart but fail completely to communicate, "telangiectatic naevus") and it generally goes away within the first year. I don't remember seeing any storks or salmon in the delivery room, but I'm fairly certain there were a few angels. And given how well they've taken care of Hannah so far, I'll forgive the overzealous osculation.

Two Weeks at Home!

Several of you have asked what you can get for Hannah, or what you can do for her. As I sit and watch her, I can certainly understand the desire to do something for this wonderful little bundle of potential. But most of her material needs are taken care of, and she doesn't yet have an appreciation of the finer things in life. So I've create a list of the things she really needs from all of us:

• Buckle your seat belt.
• Get a yearly physical.
• Don't tailgate.
• Don't smoke.
• Drive at the speed of the rest of the traffic.
• Skip the french fries.
• Don't trust other drivers to signal before changing lanes.
• Don't stress over the small stuff.
• Don't use your cell phone in traffic.
  
• Let others help you when you need it.

Why? Because all of you, her friends and family, are what she needs most, and I really want to be able to introduce her to you one day. Can't do that if you're not around.

Anyway, today marks the end of the second week that Hannah has been home with us, and we couldn't be happier. We could, perhaps, be a little more rested, but that can wait til she's in college, I suppose. However, we've proven that we can keep her fed, dry, and reasonably happy without tearing our own hair out, so it's time to open the doors to visitors, if anyone is interested.

Because this is RSV season (a variety of the common cold that can be fatal to preemies), we'll ask anyone who has a cold or who has been around someone with a cold to postpone their visit. And everyone will need to wash their hands upon arrival. And the doctors recommend avoiding any non-family members under the age of 12 (children are more likely to have this particular strain of cold without even knowing it). With those disclaimers, we'd love to see you and introduce Hannah. I'll be back at work next week, so evenings after 6:30 or weekends would probably work best. Just give us a call or email to let us know when you'll drop by.

Chemistry Set

Hannah now has seven medications: two inhaled and five in her milk (not all at the same time). I suppose the formula we add to the milk to fortify it might count as an eighth. In any case, one corner of the kitchen now looks like an evil scientist's lab, with vials, bottles, syringes, and graduated mixing containers. I spend a half hour each night preparing the next 24 hours of milk and dosing the overnight feeds so we don't have to wake up and do math in the middle of the night. Distinguishing between 1.1 ml and .1 ml can seem like advanced calculus at 3am.

Hannah got a bath tonight, and unlike last time, seemed to enjoy it. Perhaps she enjoyed it a little too much, since we had to do a quick water change mid-bath after noticing a sudden marked degradation in water purity. I suppose there will be time later to teach Hannah that it is counter-productive to poop in one's bath water. And a significant social blunder if one happens to be in a friend's hot-tub.

Ahh . . . the joys of parenthood.

Another Ride in the Car

We were sitting around yesterday thinking "You know, what we need is one more piece of medical equipment for Hannah to play with. All her other toys are so bright and cheerful and soft and fresh-smelling . . . how about something that we can plug into the wall that will hiss and hum and blow smelly chemicals up her nose!"

Coincidentally, today's trip to the pediatrician happened to intersect with one of Hannah's relatively rare grunt-and-snort episodes, where she breathes like a hyperactive piglet, and it was decided that she might benefit from a Nebulizer. This is not, as I first guessed, a machine that creates impressive clouds of interstellar gas and dust in the safety of your own home, but rather a device more like what I described above. It atomizes medications and blows them up Hannah's nose, so she can breath a bit more effectively. She doesn't seem to mind it, probably because she got these treatments often at the NICU. The medications are a bronchodilator (latin for "bull expander") and a steroid.

Hannah is doing great and getting more alert and interactive every day. She's also expressed a desire for slightly bigger meals, so we'll ask the doctor tomorrow if that's OK.

Here's a picture to remind us how far we've come. Life is good.

Back to Work

Hannah is now 6 and 1/2 pounds. We took her back to the hospital yesterday for some routine blood tests. She slept the whole time, except the part where they poked her in the heel and drew some blood, of course. We're getting used to changing the nasal cannula (it gets blocked with snot after a few days), swapping the pulse oximeter probe from foot to foot (it can cause irritation and deformity if left on the same toe all the time), and threading her clothes over the air tube and wires any time she needs a change of outfit (once per spit-up).

We've adjusted the routine so I can get in a half-day of work each day this week, from home. Unfortunately for Carla, this means she's doing the bulk of the diaper/bottle duty. We were splitting it 50/50. I usually pre-measure all the bottles for the nighttime/morning feeds, and add the medicine to each, before going to bed so Carla doesn't have to do all that measuring and mixing while half-asleep. We envy parents that ONLY have to change and feed their baby during the night, without the hoses, wires, and five medicines. :-)

Carla's parents left yesterday morning after a good visit. Here's a picture of the cool tiger-skin rug they brought (among a cartload of other stuff) for Hannah.

One Week at Home

Doesn't seem that long, but Hannah has been home a week now. Not much new to report, but we're all doing great.

Yawn

Those of you with children already know why I haven't updated the blog in a couple days. There just don't seem to be enough hours in the day. It didn't help that I was sidelined for a while with some sort of intestinal ailment that I am tempted to blame on a bad burrito from Taco Bell. Fortunately, Carla's parents are visiting, so we had a couple extra hands around to help out while I whimpered and whined.

Hannah is doing great. She actually stayed awake a few hours today, so maybe she won't be up for her usual 12am-3am "Hey, where is everybody?" time slot tonight. I should be back to my usual self tomorrow and have a photo or two to share.

Technical Difficulties

The blood oxygen saturation monitor has been driving us crazy, and is depriving us of more sleep than Hannah is. To cut a long story short, we've been through a defective probe, three defective cables, and still are getting readings only by taping the cable to the unit in a certain way to avoid a short in the connection. You'd think that since this is medical equipment, repairs and replacements would be at the door within an hour or so, but apparently not. There are only a couple reps in the area, apparently, and they're busy. Anyway, they brought by a replacement unit a few minutes ago, and it seems to be working fine.

To put things in perspective, Hannah would be fine without the oxygen monitor, but having it around and working allows us to not hover over her bassinet making sure that she's still breathing. Without it, we'd have to wait for the apnea monitor to tell us she hasn't breathed in 20 seconds.

On a completely different topic, we've gotten a few excellent tips and bits of advice from some of you, and it is always prefaced with something like "I know you didn't ask for advice . . . " Well, we're not the sort of people that get offended when offered advice, so go ahead and keep it coming. We need all the advice we can get. If we get any conflicting advice, we'll arrange an arm-wrestling match to settle it.

One more thing . . . the infant grandchild of a long-time friend of my family is battling leukemia. His parents live in Shreveport but have been staying at St. Jude's house in Memphis for many months while Ethan is treated there. Ben and Becky have been an inspiration to Carla and I since before Hannah was even born, and particularly when we faced serious problems with Steven and Hannah. Please include Ethan and his parents in your prayers. We need another miracle.

Helping Hands

We're getting into a routine of feedings, and Hannah is graciously allowing us to stay on the 3-hour schedule established in the NICU. That's convenient, because it's much easier to schedule her medications and put them in her milk than try to squirt them in her mouth and hope she swallows. She's also been sleeping at night (mostly) so we've been able to grab a few hours of sleep between feedings. She only gets cranky when we slip the vitamins into her milk, and if they taste half as bad as they smell, I can't blame her a bit.

Hannah's doctor prescribed daily visits from a NICU nurse for the next two weeks, so we have a helping hand and sounding board every day.

Hannah seems quite content. Sleeping most of the time, but alert and well-tempered when awake.

First Field Trip

We made our first trip outside the house today, to the pediatrician's office. She agreed that Hannah is doing great and was surprised at how alert she was. Carting around the oxygen and pulse ox monitor wasn't all that difficult, and Hannah seems to like riding in the car just fine.

She's now 6 pounds 3 ounces.



I just noticed that Hannah is still wearing her hospital ID bracelet. We've gotten so used to it, it didn't occur to us that we could take it off. Speaking of bracelets, Hannah had her own Paris Hilton fashion accessory while we were rooming in at the hospital, in the form of an ankle monitor to detect if she tried to leave the hospital. All babies get them, to make sure the parents don't steal their own babies before they are ready to leave. It's mostly a legal protection for the hospital, since they are responsible for the children until they are discharged.

Aunt Cat and Uncle Jon were Hannah's first home visitors yesterday, although Hannah was either zonked out or cranky the whole time they were here.


Some quality time with Mom.

Settling In

We're getting settled after the big move yesterday. Last night went fine, with Carla and I serving diaper/bottle duty in shifts so both of us got some sleep. The machines and medicine routine are working well. Today we'll try to straighten out the tornado that moved from the NICU to our car, then to our house . . . bags and boxes of supplies and paraphernalia sent home with us from the NICU. Those folks think of everything and provide lots of samples to make sure we don't have to run to Wal-Mart for several days for supplies. And it's a good thing, because we weren't doing much clear thinking the past few days.

Below are some pictures of Hannah's set-up. Most of this will go away once she's off the oxygen in a month or so. The yellow unit with the orange display is the pulse oximeter, displaying the percentage of oxygen saturation in Hannah's blood, which it measures by shining a light through her toes and watching the pulse rate and the color of her blood (oxygen-rich blood is redder than oxygen-poor blood). The white unit with the orange sticker on top is the apnea monitor, which measures her heart and breath rates using two electrodes held against her chest with a velcro band. The gray unit with the round white lid is a suction machine in case we need to clear her airways of gunk. And her meds are in the white tray in the middle, with the exception of one in the fridge because it has to be kept refrigerated. The pink unit in the bassinet is the food-oxygen exchange unit. It requires a constant supply of oxygen, fat, protein, and calcium, which it turns into poop and baby. The bassinet is raised slightly on one end with bricks because a leaky seal in the unit's input port sometimes causes some leakage that affects operating efficiency.


The unit below is the oxygen machine, which pulls oxygen out of the room air and concentrates it from 21% to 97%. This is better than a tank because it never has to be refilled. It's fairly loud, so we have it across the hall, with the oxygen tube running into the bedroom. There's 50 feet of tubing, so we carry Hannah all around the house, dragging the tube behind. The tanks to the left of the machine are portable oxygen tanks used for backup (a power outage, for example) and for traveling to the doctor's office.

Hannah Elaine Minor

Arrived October 27th, at 5 pounds 14 ounces, after 105 days of labor. Mom, Dad, and baby are doing great.






On a day like this, it's very easy to feel that it's all about us. But Hannah would not be with us today, as healthy as she is, without the round-the-clock care from a huge team of extraordinary people. The doctors and nurses at Medical Center of Plano have earned from us a lifetime of gratitude and respect. They have nerves of steel and the compassion of saints, and have been patient with both Hannah and her parents through the worst of times. Doctors Lucena, West, Kuforiji, and Jain, and too many exceptional nurses and therapists to name, and Doctor Kathy and her staff at CAR . . . thank you a million times over for this precious gift of life.





To the friends we've met in the NICU, please keep us updated on the progress of your little miracles. We miss them already.