T minus three days

These past couple days have been an emotional roller coaster.
Tuesday morning the doctors decided it was the day to try and extubate Peanut. The room had an air of excitement and optimism. "He's done so great on the CPAP", "did wonderfully on trials", he should do fine with extubation right?
That afternoon, they took the tube out of his throat and put the CPAP tube in his nose.
He barely lasted a half hour. He was breathing very heavily, turning color, and becoming very stressed. I showed up around 12:30 to see how he was doing. I was sucking on a Coke icee from Sheetz as I strolled through the door.
I could feel the disappointment in the air. I looked at the doctor and he just shook his head. My shoulders fell and my good mood vanished.

Wednesdays rounds were short. "Failed at extubation", "continue management and trials". We left feeling like we had hit a brick wall.
"What do we do now?"

Thursday was worse. "Failed overnight, had to raise vent pressure", "disappointed". They had to give the baby another blood transfusion due to low numbers. "We don't know why he's worse". They said that they didn't want to bother him much today, just let him rest.
"I'm worried about him" the doctor tells me.
That was all it took to make me break. I listened as I stared at the floor, clenching my jaw, trying not to cry. I just nodded, said thanks, and watched them leave. I grabbed my stuff and headed out of the PICU keeping my head down. I made it across the parking lot without any tears, climbed the stairs to the McDonald house and signed in.
"Hey! How are you doing?" Crystal asks me.
"I'm fine." I answer not looking at her.
"How's the baby?" she asks with a smile.
I just walk away, I can't do it. I can't answer her. I can't hold back the tears anymore. I'm half crying, half hyperventilating as I walk as fast as I can to my room. I close the door, throw my bag on the bed, and turn up the AC. I'm pacing around in a circle, trying to slow my breathing, holding my chest.
"Oh God help me" I pray. "Help my son."
I crawl into bed, hoping to fall asleep and not think about what could happen next.
Then my phone rings.
Seriously? After answering, I lay down and look out the window. I see the sun shining, gorgeous blue skies, and think "Okay, thats enough moping." I had my moment of weakness, of hopelessness and fear. But now I have to get it together. I can't take care of my son if I'm an emotional wreck. I need something to do.
So I decide to go for a walk. I drive down to the river trail and go for a three mile walk/jog to clear my head. I enjoy the sunshine and scenery as I jam out to some good old Smash Mouth.

Feeling very refreshed and, for the first time, kind of awesome; I go back to check on the baby. He's sleeping and stable so I go track down his doctor. I knock on the office door and peek my head in.
"Hey, its your favorite mom!"
I ask if they have heard anything from Dr. G, the surgeon.
"Surgery, Monday" Thats all they know.
I get kind of excited. Finally! A plan, a decision, a timeline!
Dr. W tells me it will be rough. "He will be very sick afterwards."
"Happy thoughts" I say with a smile, "You're going to make me cry."
Which saying it, of course, makes me tear up.
He quickly stands up to give me a hug.
"Hey, it will be okay. I believe he'll make it through."
I can only nod. "I don't want it all to be for nothing."
"He'll make it" he tells me, as he hands me a tissue.
I smile through the tears, "I hope so".

So today during rounds, the docs don't change anything. They want him to be comfortable and rested before the big day. I talk to one of his five cardiologists and he tells me that the surgeon has decided to operate on the right side of his heart.
I ask a few questions, get a few answers but the surgeon is who I really want to talk to.
I'm on the phone when he walks in.
"Gotta go! Call you back!"
He sits down, dressed in light blue scrubs, shoes still covered in booties from surgery.
He gets right down to the nitty gritty.
"His chances of not making are less then 50%, but...", here he points to emphasize his point, "at least 25%".
I nod.
"The doctors tried every trick they had to get him off the vent and we see that its not going to happen. We had to exhaust all other options before we could justify taking this kind of risk with this surgery."
I nod again, agreeing. He goes on to explain a few more details about what he's going to do, and what he hopes will happen.
Let me explain something about Dr. G. It's like listening to God himself (not trying to get struck by lightning here) but the words that are coming out of his mouth are SO important, you don't want to miss a thing. I'm almost straining to try and catch everything he is saying so I don't forget. I'm quickly jotting words down so I can repeat them to my husband. This man will have his hands inside my baby's heart within the next couple days; I do not want to misunderstand or misinterpret anything he says.

Knowing that they will finally be doing something is so relieving, but at the same time nerve wracking. This surgery will be much harder on him then his first. He will be very sick for awhile afterwards. His chest will most likely be left open again in case it swells. We will be moved back into the "heart room" in the PICU. It has the OR lights in case they have to do a procedure on his heart; that way they don't have to take him out of the room.
When I asked if recovery will be at least six weeks again, the doctor only gave me a sad smile and said "If you're lucky."

So here we go folks. Fingers crossed, prayers sent: I am ready.


My parents came up to visit me Friday. While they were here, I got a phone call from my husband's aunt-in-law that she would like to paint our family room. She has already painted our dining and living room and our entryway but would like to keep going. So I went to Lowes to pick out a paint color so she can get started.
I picked up a magazine while I was there to help me get ideas on how to design our kitchen and family room since its an open floor plan. I also ended up meeting another mother here who owns her own construction company and was giving me pointers on which walls to tear down and how I could make our house flow better.
The point of all this is; my dad was listening to me explain paint colors, and cabinets, and islands, and design and he started laughing.
"She's up here at the hospital and she's worried about paint colors!"
Well, yes I am.
I AM up here at the hospital but I feel connected to back home if I am involved in picking out paint colors. I can sit up here and daydream about floor plans, colors, and new love seats because it helps me feel like I'm not that far away. It helps me to feel normal. Like this is only temporary.
So yes, I may have some grand schemes as to how I want my house to look, but it gives me something to focus on. To dream about and look forward to.
It helps me feel connected. :)

A shout out

Just wanted to give a shout out to Camille of knitknackhats.blogspot.com. She came across my blog and offered to knit a hat for Peanut. Well I just got it in the mail and you have to see for yourself:

Isn't it adorable!? She is so talented; I just had to share. If you would like to see more samples just visit her blog here and you can email her at knitknacks@gmx.com. She is also making a hat for my other son, which I ordered in the same stripes and colors, just with a green monkey. I will share a photo when I receive it. Thanks Camille!!

*This is not sponsored. Camille has no idea I am sharing this!*


Don't forget the fundraiser started by my dear friend Erica ends the 30th!! Her husband has generously decided to match all funds up to $300!!
It is through Erica's Scentsy website here and you just click on "Corbin's Party" on the right.
All donations go towards Peanut's medicall bills and are considered a gift. If you would like to donate directly, there is a paypal button on the right of this blog.

Thanks again to Erica and her husband for helping out. We have been able to keep up with our bills thanks to all the people who have donated. Hubby and I want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts! God bless!!

Peanut is doing so well! He is keeping up his oxygen on his own and is slowly moving off the vent a couple hours at a time. Keep up the prayers, you are have been such a blessing in this trying time. Thank you for the thoughts, prayers, cards, and hugs. We love you all. 

On camera

I feel like I need to tell everyone about Williams Syndrome so that people are aware. Aware that this 1: 30,000 genetic disorder is possible and to have your baby's heart checked at birth. Though WS is genetic, the majority of heart defects in children are not. "Congenital heart defects are responsible for more deaths in the first year of life then any other defect...10,830 babies are born each day in the US, and 411 of them are born with a defect". Check out this website for more statistics on heart defects. *NOT a medical website*

So I was thrilled when a WVU student came by the McDonald house the other day asking to interview me. I have been here the second longest [the parents "in first" have been here four months] and she wanted to ask me a few questions like how I liked the McDonald house, where I would be without it, and what brought me here in the first place. What I didn't realize is that I would be on camera.
I have no problem talking to people and sharing our story, but when there is a big black camera staring at you with a very bright light shining in your face...it's not so easy. She told me not to look into the camera, which didn't bother me, I would have needed sunglasses to keep from squinting. She asked me where I would be without the McDonald house:
"Either broke trying to stay in a hotel or sleep deprived sleeping in the hospital room."
"Why is this house better then a hotel?"
Now let me say, to me this was a silly question. How can I count the ways? They feed me (for free). I have my own room where family can stay with me (free), laundry (free), internet (free), game room (free)...you see the reason?
I can stay here for as long as I need, they provide everything I need from towels to toilet paper and in the end, if I can't pay the small $12/day, then they say "Ok!".
I made sure to mention Peanut's Williams Syndrome (awareness!), give a shout out to my hubby for all the driving he does, and to express my sincere appreciation for the McDonald House. I figure that even though it will be mainly silly college kids watching this video, that maybe what I say will effect one of them. That maybe one of them will decide to volunteer or donate after seeing what a help this place has been. Awareness is so important.

I never thought I would be "that parent" of a sick kid. I never dreamed that one day I would be sitting by my newborn's bedside, praying that he lives through the night. You may hear stories about other parents, about other kids, but you don't think past it. You push it aside, wave it away "oh that will never happen to me." Well let me say kids, it can happen. And it happens to thousands of people a day when they learn their kid has an illness. I'm not trying to gather pity, I'm trying to spread awareness. Be aware that you are so lucky. Your child is healthy, breathing, and thriving. Hug your child, breath in their wonderful kid smells, and thank God you are able to hold them. Be thankful that they are able to run around you house, making a mess and spilling their sippy cup. My child can't breath on his own, let alone run. He can't drink from a bottle because it literally is so hard on his heart he works up a sweat. So mothers, even just for a moment as you a tucking your baby into bed, send a prayer up and thank your lucky stars for your beautiful, messy, sticky, stubborn, and amazing baby.

Signing out,
just a mom <3

Birth and death

The tenth was my birthday.
Even though a hospital was the last place I wanted to be, it was a good day. Rounds went well; nothing had really changed and the plan for the day was short and sweet. I shamelessly tell anyone who looks my way that it is my birthday. I figure: if they don't know, how can they wish me a happy birthday?

The weather was an amazing 80 degrees and bright and sunny; just the kind of weather to go driving and get out. Driving is my alone time. I can crank the radio with the windows down and just jam. I don't think, I don't worry, I just drive. The beeps and alarms of the hospital room disappear and are replaced with the sound of passing cars and the stereo bass. It's a calm feeling like no other. My wandering spirit leads me to the mall where I have lunch, shop, and treat myself to new tennis shoes. It may sound silly, but I love the shoes the nurses wear. They all sport such cute and colorful shoes that I just had to have a pair. I leave, wearing my new kicks, and head back to the McDonald house.

Apparently it hadn't been such a good day for everyone else. I hear from a father, who's daughter is in the hospital for being born with half a heart, that he just lost his son. His two year old back home had fallen down the stairs, broke his neck, and passed away. The news bring tears to my eyes. I immediately thank God we live in a single story home where the is no danger of my son falling down stairs. My heart breaks for this mans pain. While I'm on the porch listening to this man's story, I meet another family who's 12 year old daughter just found out she has lymphatic cancer. She is scheduled for chemo the next day. I then receive a phone call from a dear friend saying that her sister tried to commit suicide.
I realize then, in that moment, that the world is full of sad stories but I have never been this close to the people experiencing them. Here, I am surrounded by sad stories, broken hearts, and sick children. I have been lucky enough not to hear of them, until now. All in one day, so many tears. My birthday is a happy day for me, a day I can take for myself and be selfish and buy shoes and jewelry. But for others, it is the day their son died, the day their daughter had her first round of chemo, and they day a sister almost died. I thank God, as I listen to these stories, that my son is alive and breathing. Thank you God he made it to the hospital in time, thank you for a successful surgery. Thank you for a broken, but beating heart. 

Heart Cath.

I'm nervous. Usually I'm not a chatty person but just to keep my mind off things, I found myself talking to anyone who would talk back. I don't know why I was so nervous, it wasn't like he was having surgery. I guess the thought of a tube snaking through my baby's veins and into his heart was worse then the thought of surgery.
I give him a quick kiss before they wheel him downstairs at 8:30, then we go back to the McDonald house to wait.

Dr. P calls me around 1:30 to have us meet him at 2 to discuss the findings. At 3:30, Dr. R comes by to talk to us.
"I saw you staring at me so I figured you wanted to talk"
I laugh, I do tend to give the doctors the stink-eye when I'm waiting for news. He tells us that Peanut handled the heart cath. just fine. He is swollen from the dye they injected but thats nothing to worry about. His pulmonary pressure is good and his right ventricle (RV) pressure is higher, but that it so be expected since he has a band on his pulmonary. His left ventricle (LV) pressure is higher then normal as well as the LV muscle is larger then it should be. He says the pressure in his LV isn't high enough to cause that much muscle growth and that he doesn't know why. It points to another heart disease called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy-enlargement of the heart muscles. This doesn't fit in with his Williams Syndrome at all and would cut his life expectancy down to one year.

It's hard to explain the feeling you get when he are sitting next to your husband hearing bad news about your child. You would hold his hand but you are too busy wringing your own and you would watch his reaction if you could take your eyes of the doctor. I could only listen and take notes. To me, the cardiomyopathy doesn't fit in, so I push it to the back of my head.

He goes on to explain a few more things, we chat about the weather and his goats. It's cool to have a cowboy as your cardiologist. He's not so intimidating when he see cowboy boots and jeans under his doctor's coat.

An hour later, Dr. P finally arrives. We give him a hard time about taking so long. We've been here long enough we can do that. He tells us about the same thing, except he adds that Peanut does have Pulmonary Stenosis-the veins leading into and out of his heart heart to his lungs are narrowed. This is making it harder on his heart to pull blood in from the lungs AND push it back out to the lungs. This could be why his LV muscle is getting bigger. He doesn't mention cardiomyopathy, which makes me feel a little better.

We don't stay long, Hubby's co-worker and his family have arrived to take us out to dinner. Besides my parents and Hubby's dad and his girlfriend, no one has come to visit us. It is such a generous gesture, Hubby and I were both very moved that they drove all that way just to stay a couple hours and go back home. Not to mention they dragged both their kids with them. J Jr. is two and Madison is 5. Madison has cardiomyopathy and we had known that before we even had Peanut, so watching her struggle and seeing her condition is what made us so wary of the disease. Madison will have to have a stomach tube the rest of her life, she doesn't talk, she's in a type of wheelchair, and she has a trache in her throat helping her breathe. Her mother tells me that after her heart surgery they put her on Captopril and sent her home. Well, she wasn't eating very well and coupled with the Captopril, it destroyed her kidneys. So Mom immediately offered her daughter one of hers. Now she will tell you it was no problem and she would do it again, but one of the ladies here at the McDonald house told me Mom almost died from the procedure. She had multiple blood clots and almost didn't make it.
This blew me away. I cannot imagine having a child in the hospital THEN having your wife almost die. I am very honored to have them as friends. They have been so supportive and are honestly the only people we know personally who can understand what we are going through. They had the same cardiologists, stayed at the same McDonald house, and J even works at the same prison as Cody. With the exception of a Williams Syndrome mom I met (Hi Kelly!), I haven't personally met anyone else who can say "I understand".

After saying goodbye to our friends, we head back to the hospital to see if there is any news. We talk to Dr. P again who says that all the cardiologists are going to have a pow-wow Friday and try to come to some sort of decision. We ask if it will be surgery, and he say yes but it probably won't be surgery on his pulmonary stenosis. That kind of procedure is very risky and the outcome probably wouldn't be worth the risk.

The day has wore. me. out. Hearing news in the morning, then hearing it change in the afternoon, then it changes again in the evening-it really takes a toll on your mind. You hear he's fine and you can go home, then he gets worse, then its "we don't know why", then its "he needs surgery", then "he has a new condition, or wait, no he doesn't"....AAHHHGGG. The emotional roller coaster of this experience has to be the hardest thing to deal with. I can handle good news and I can even handle bad news; but when you get them both on the same day and the story keeps changing? Forget it. My brain is mush.

I literally have no room in my brain for anything other then Peanut. I forget everything. Social Security appointment? Forgot it. Meeting with the social worker about Medicaid? Forgot it. My brain has been completely taken over by medical terms and doctors and updates and medicine. No more room for bills, pediatrician appointments, dentist appointments...nope. Gone.

So my notebook stays full. Full of to-do lists and don't-forget notes. And I expect it to stay that way for a long, long time.

Signing out,

Makes scents!

A dear friend of mine has decided to help us in our fundraising for Peanut. As you can imagine, the costs are astronomical for a newborn to have multiple surgeries and to stay in the hospital. I found out yesterday that one little bag of TPN (total parental nutrients), a special premixed solution costs almost $1000. The fat free formula he was on while bottle feeding was $125 for 5 ounces. 
Her name is Erical Taylor Alls and she is a Scentsy Consultant. Here is what she posted...

Hey everyone!! I am a Scentsy consultant. I am doing a fundraiser for Ruth and Corbin. 100% of my comission raised during the duration of the fundraiser will go to Ruth and Corbin for their expenses. Check out www.ericaalls.scentsy.us and click on Corbin's Party. If you can't purchase alot that's fine. A 3 dollar scent circle will help out this family tremendously!! Please send me a message if you have more questions. Tell everyone you know!!

As I have said before, we are eternally grateful to the people who have donated already. Your love and compassion helps us keep going. I have told myself not to worry about bills, that it will all work out, but like they say, every little helps! Don't forget, I have a paypal Donate button on the right if you would rather use that.
God bless you all.

Go home, he's fine! Part two

Tuesday, 5th

I call the PICU as soon as I wake up. They tell me Peanut is still getting worse and they don't know why. I shake Hubby awake and tell him to get his stuff together, we're leaving.
The ride is long. I worry that something is happening that I don't know about and that I am on my way and it will be too late by the time we get there. 
We can't get there fast enough.
When we do arrive, they explain in more detail what happened. He had another breathing episode, but worse. He lost color, his stats and oxygen levels were low, and he seemed to be having a lot of trouble breathing. He also isn't peeing like normal. They gave him a second blood transfusion because he had a higher then normal acid levels. He is still on the ventilator when we get there but they had to raise the pressure, and he has a chest tube. We find out, when they put the ventilator in, the pressure must have been too high and it popped a hole in his lung. The air then went out into his chest cavity so they had to insert the chest tube to get the air out. He has been put back on meds that they had weaned him off of weeks ago. He basically looks like he did when he first came out of surgery.
I feel so bad. I feel like if I had stayed, he wouldn't have gotten worse. I feel like a selfish person for leaving him just to get a break. My son can't get a break. He is stuck here, in the hospital unable to leave yet he keeps fighting. 
I should have stayed.

There isn't much we can do, so we leave to get some dinner. When we get back, Dr. Rh is there to give us his opinion of what is happening.
He tells us he will most likely need another surgery but they aren't going to do it until they find out why he is sick. He says the xray of his lungs looks like he has pneumonia but the tests are coming back negative. His echo also shows that the muscle of his left ventricle has gotten bigger. Since the muscle has gotten bigger, the cavity inside the left ventricle has gotten smaller. This is making his heart work a lot harder to pump, and is not helping with his breathing. They want to do a heart catheterization so that they can measure the pressure levels in his heart to try and explain what is going on. They also need to get an IV in his leg. They haven't been able to find his femoral artery yet, but they need to find it in order to do the heart cath.
He can't tell us much more, he can only give the few details that he knows for sure are true. 
We have no choice but to wait.

Wednesday, 6th

As I listen to them name off Peanut's meds during rounds, I feel like we've gone back in time.
Back to when he first got out of surgery and it took two minutes to name off all his meds. This is no little setback, this is serious.
Rounds come with no change. They are not going to do the heart cath till the end of the week, so they will continue monitoring and management. His cultures for infection are still coming back negative but they want to continue his antibiotics just in case.

Later that evening, Dr. P stops by to talk.
He tells me that from what he can see on the echo, Peanut's VSDs have gotten smaller.
I start to smile, then he says:
"Thats not necessarily a good thing."
He explains that first: Peanut does not have double outlet right ventricle. His aorta comes off of his left ventricle like it's supposed to. Second: the holes that they had seen earlier in his lower heart have gotten smaller. The lowest one is very small and is a muscular VSD, which should close on its one. The second VSD, may be one of two kinds. The first kind, a sub aortic left ventricle, may mean that he will have to have what is called a Fontane Surgery. It is "the bad kind", a three part surgery, that he may not live through. Or it could be a perimembranous VSD, which if it keeps closing could be causing the muscle to get bigger. 
He isn't going to know until he does the heart cath.

I'm really starting to think this heart cath is a big deal.

I ask all kinds of questions. Dr. P sits with me, drawing a picture as he talks, to answer my questions. I cannot stress how very awesome this is. To have a cardiologist sit with you, for almost 30 minutes, sketching and talking to help you understand what is wrong with your child. The doctors here amaze me everyday with their understanding and patience.

I go back to the McDonald house feeling very much smarter then before and confident that the doctors will be able to find out what is wrong and fix it.
I sleep in peace.

Go home, he's fine!

Sunday, 3rd of April

Rounds are short since Peanut is stable and doing well. I'm pleased with his progress and it's looking like he could be on his way home. The team is filing out of his room when Dr. W and Dr. P round on me and say:
"Go home".
"Really, go home. He is fine, nothing is going to happen and you need the break."
They tell me that they think I have done an amazing job of showing up every day for rounds, taking notes, and sitting in the hospital for hours at a time. But I need to go. They tell me there is something called "PICU psychosis" and they don't want me to get it.
This makes me laugh. 
But I listen to what they are saying and I start to get excited. 
"Home? Really?" I ask with a smile.
So I call Hubby to let him know he doesn't need to leave and that I am on my way.

The drive is LONG. Geez, I don't know how Hubby does it, this is just wrong. Three and a half hours later, yawning uncontrollably, I arrive home. Monkey is awake and I swear, he's gotten cuter since the last time I saw him. He's strutting around the kitchen, holding his bottle in one hand, talking his baby talk. 
Hubby and I make some darn cute babies, thats for sure. 
I can't help it, but I can't sit still till I have unpacked and cleaned the house to my liking. Hubby, being the dude he is, wants to go to his buddy's house to watch Wrestlemania.
Let me explain the phenomenon that is Wrestlemania. It is an arena full of obsessed and brainwashed rednecks that love to watch tightly clad, oil-slathered, muscle men throw each other around. Complete with fake punches, foot-stomping sound effects, and long-winded speeches about how much the other competitor sucks. Hubby can't get enough of it.
So after I give him a guilt trip for having a dudes night on my first day home, I agree as long as I can have a girls night. I leave with Monkey to meet my best friend over at Applebees for dinner and drinks.
Yes, drinks.
Considering my situation, I have no guilt whatsoever as I order my mango margarita and immediately take a big slurp. Yummm...alcohol. :)
Anyway...dinner is nice. Aside from Monkey's occasional scream for food, we have a nice chat, good laughs, and a lovely little buzz. We plan for a day at the park the next day and head home.

A little while after I get home, I call the PICU to check on Peanut.
"He's fine!" The nurse starts off with, "but he had a little spell and we had to intubate him."
"Oh great" I groan. 
She tells me its not a big deal, they just feel more comfortable doing this since he is having such trouble breathing. 
"Don't rush back, we have him stabilized and comfortable. Enjoy your time at home."
I have a feeling they are toning things down, but I try not to worry and enjoy the rest of my night home with the boys.

Monday, 4th 

I receive a phone call at 1am.
"Hello?" I mumble.
"Hi! Don't worry, he's fine. We just had to give him a blood transfusion because his blood count was a little low. I'm sorry I woke you up, but I know you would want to know".
Ugh. Not again. Now I'm starting to get worried. This isn't just a little breathing spell, this is effecting his blood count now? I'm thinking I need to head back.

Six hours late, I wake up with Monkey. We go about with our normal breakfast routine then I wake up Hubby up so I can go to Wal-mart. While I'm there with the Bestie, I get another phone call.
"Hi, me again. I just wanted to let you know he's stable, but he is sick. We're not sure why and we are running tests. There's no need to rush back but we wanted to let you know."
When they say "he is sick", I really start worrying. GO FIGURE, as soon as I leave he gets worse. I start to feel like its my fault because I did leave that he is getting bad. I know they don't tell me everything sometimes and I start to run scenarios through my head. I call Hubby and let him know that I want to head back the next day.

After a long day of running errands, Hubby takes me out to dinner at Macados. I want to say here that I cannot believe sometimes, how "plugged in" this generation is. There are 4 tables around ours and ALL of them are on their phones. Hubby and I can't help but make fun of them because they are out to dinner with friends, and all they can do is surf the internet and chat on Facebook. 
Just to make it better, our server isn't that great. I am really picky when it comes to servers at restaurants. I was a server, and I know how it is. You do have to put up with some crappy people sometimes, but you need to do your job well if you want a good tip. I have no problem leaving a very small tip if you did a crappy job. Smile, be friendly, and bring my food and drinks in a timely manner. If you muck around, forget my refill, and I have to remind you to bring a spoon with my root beer float? You are not going to get a good tip. Servers are my favorite thing to complain about. Hubby thinks I'm too hard on them but what can I say? If you think you will get tipped good just because of the job you have, you are wrong. Personality has a lot to do with it. I have tipped better based on someone's personality even if they weren't the greatest server. 
I call the PICU again, to check in. They tell me he is getting worse and they don't know why. His heart cath is scheduled for Wednesday, but at the rate he is going, it could be later.
When you are almost four hours away from your newborn and you hear he is sick, you get this gnawing feeling in your gut that won't go away. I was so excited to get to go home and spend time with Monkey, but now I can't focus. I am worried and getting antsy. I really want to go back, so Hubby and I plan to leave in the morning.

To be continued...

Dumpster Diving

You have to be careful where you put your belongings around here.

I had placed two baby blankets on the counter, and for the past 5 weeks, no one has touched them.
Then last night, the night shift nurse decided to do laundry.
"Agghhhh!!!" This frustrates me to no end. I had made sure to make my pile of blankets and books like like "mine" but they still get tossed in the laundry.
I even went "dumpster diving" for them. A nurse and I went through all the laundry from the morning that hadn't been taken out yet but to no avail.
They were gone.
I left a message with the laundry people but I don't think they will call me back.
They are all probably sitting around, drinking coffee and eating cookies, listening to my message laughing.
"Crazy lady", they say.
"Those blankets are goners", they laugh.

Well, turns out one of my blankets only got moved but she must have thought the other belonged to the hospital because it is MIA.
Oh well.
Hopefully it turns up in the laundry room in a couple days and I can snatch it back. Maybe writing my name across it will prevent future laundering.

You have to watch those night shift people.
They're sneaky.