Some Concern Following the Birth

The only time Lisa was able to hold Abigail, 10 minutes after birth.

The nurse held her close to Lisa, but never let go of the baby.

 
The respiratory nurse and midwife were concerned that Abigail had swallowed some meconium, and after doing their initial check-up and suctioning fluids from her mouth, they whisked her off to the nursery for a little more attention—all of which seemed like a precaution to everyone involved; not necessarily an alarm that there were major health concerns. While in the nursery, Abigail’s “sats” were taken, and they measured, among other things, the oxygen saturation in her blood, which seemed lower than they would want. She was also breathing a little faster than they would like. They didn’t seem overly concerned, so I continued to videotape and snap photos of her, all the while thinking how lucky we were to have a healthy baby with no known deformities, and with five fingers and toes.

The oxygen saturation in her blood continued to be a concern, as they began to pump oxygen into her in increasing quantities. They initially hypothesized that this meant that the meconium had gotten into her lungs and was causing the air sacks in her lungs to “stick together,” not allowing her to really take deep breaths. The pediatrician on call asked for her to be put on a C-Pap machine that would blow air into her lungs and force them to expand and the “sticky” sacks to open. At that point, our level of concern climbed a little, but we were confident that she was in good hands, and the situation would be rectified soon. At Lisa’s urging, I gave Abigail her first priesthood blessing, a tender moment characterized by the profound feeling of peace that has persisted since that moment. After the blessing, they moved Abigail into a more secluded section of the nursery where they could put her on the c-pap machine.

The Diagnosis Becomes a Little More Grave

It wasn’t until 6:30 that Lisa and I were able to return to the nursery and see Abigail. Lisa had to regain sufficient strength to get into a wheelchair before I could take her to see her daughter, whom she had only held for about 30 seconds before the respiratory nurse whisked her off to the nursery. As we entered the nursery, I pointed to another infant that was housed in a plastic box-type contraption, and whispered to Lisa, “Well, at least we can be thankful that our baby doesn’t require that!”

I wheeled Lisa over to Abigail, who was enmeshed in tubes. We hadn’t been with her 30 seconds when we were introduced to the Neonatologist, a grave, serious, and very direct (but thankfully very competent) man, who minced no words in telling us immediately, “Your daughter is a very sick little girl, and things don’t look good.” Prior to that moment, we hadn’t even conceived of the possibility of Abigail being really sick. But within one minute we understood that she was being placed in Newborn ICU (NICU), and that things “didn’t look good.” The neonatologist then asked us if anyone in the family had been sick recently. I responded sort of awkwardly, and said, “Yes.”

He then said, “Who?” I sheepishly raised my hand. Yes, I actually raised my hand, as if I were a school kid, caught in the act of breaking the rules, volunteering that I was the guilty party. I had been diagnosed with influenza (swine flu) six days prior to the birth—which was 4 days after I felt my first symptoms. I had justified being part of the labor and delivery because I had been symptom free for five days with the exception that my voice was still horse, and I had irritating occasional cough, which generally manifested itself only after I would eat something. I hadn’t ever had a sore throat; I had a fever for three hours, chilled for about 45 minutes, was tired for two days, and that was the extent of my swine flu—a flu that I sort of scoffed at and renamed the “Media Flu” (i.e. the ratings booster for CNN). I’ve been a little less arrogant about my perception of the flu as many of my friends have since suffered from its affects, which for them was for some reason much greater than what I experienced.

Time-out for a commercial: I am really not digressing here, as the swine flu fits into the narrative later, so be patient.

We had postponed Lisa’s induction five days because of the flu. And even though I had felt justified with being in the hospital for the birth of my child, I suddenly felt guilty and very small when the stern neonatologist inquired as to who might have had given the baby the swine flu. His initial hypothesis speculated that her respiratory issues may have to do with the flu, although he had admitted that he was only speculating. Even though we had taken great care to separate me from Lisa during the previous six days, suddenly I began to think that I had been too casual and not careful enough in quarantining myself from her. As it turned out, the swine flu hypothesis soon died in favor of something far more serious.