They're both over two pounds, and they're both breathing using only the nasal canula. That's the big news. When their lungs are working reliably on their own, we'll be in great shape, provided we can stave off infections or illnesses.
The only problem, for the time being, appears to be 'pooping,' as everyone likes to call it. (I'm not a big fan of this term, feels too juvenile, but I've got to roll with the NICU lingo for now...) They have to take tablets that encourages pooping. Hoping to get that sorted out.
Best day yet, but as always, there's an asterisk. We live with asterisks sort of constantly hovering over our shoulders. Jenny came home late and gave me the low down on some blood tests that the docs have been running on Stella. These tests seem to indicate that she may have a genetic disorder that prevents her from digesting some particular items -- no way I could possibly recall the exact scientific term for it. If the tests are accurate, then we'll need to take some aggressive action to fix the problem, or Stella could end up some neurological issues, frightening ones.
They've taken blood twice to determine if Stella has this problem. The first time, the result was positive, but the sample was also ruled "contaminated." A second test got the same result. So naturally she's getting a third test, and now we await those results.
Both kids have been stuck repeatedly in attempts to find good veins for IVs. They've had IVs put in both hands, both feet, and now there is talk of shaving Luna's head and going in there. The IVs only last so long before the entry wound threatens to become infected, and infection is a big deal, can be life threatening. As soon as an IV entry point becomes the slightest bit angry or inflamed, they pull the IV and find another vein. But, in Luna's case, we're running out of veins.
One option is to put in a PICC line. Both girls had PICC lines a few weeks back. This is a thin IV line that goes into their foot and gets threaded up their body until it ends up near their heart, in a large supply vein. The PICC line is more invasive but less prone to infection.
I watched a nurse insert a PICC line a few weeks back, on Stella. First, she doped the poor girl with morphine, which made her disturbingly lethargic for days. The nurse covered Stella's body with the trademark hospital blue gown and cloth so that only her little foot stuck out. Then she gently pushed the PICC line into a vein in her heel. She gripped it with a pair of tweezers and kind of coaxed it along. Blood backed into the syringe, from the vein, and this was a good sign. That meant the nurse had tapped into a rich, flowing vein, which meant when they started pumping in fluids, they'd get into the bloodstream easily.
Jenny is exhausted, but doing a great job with the twins. She holds them every day, both of them. She holds them close to her chest, in the dark with the curtains drawn over the unit. Sometimes she reads them books or naps with them.
I like finding them in the middle of the day, when I visit for lunch. They'll be in the corner of the room. I'll sit and bring a chair over and lather my hands up with disinfectant and then pull back the blanket and peer down at one of our daughters, and sometimes, their small blue eyes will be wide open, their small hands grasping Jenny's skin. I'll glance at Jenny, and she'll be smiling.
A couple of days ago, a truly landmark event. The nurse on duty decided that, because Stella was being so vocal during a bath, she might be ready to try some milk from a bottle. So they loaded up a bottle and held the nipple over Stella's confused mouth. They squeezed out a couple of drops, which startled the poor girl. Then, according to Jenny, a few drops meandered into Stella's mouth, at which point her eyes "doubled in size," as Jenny put it. Stella swallowed, and then took a few more drops. Jenny said, "It was the first time Stella looked amazed."
Okay, good news. Maybe, somehow, we're making progress.
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