It's astonishing how much I can't remember day-to-day lately.
The constant stress, combined with the lack of sleep has taken a mental toll that's difficult to measure, at least until this afternoon when I found myself sitting on the couch during my son's nap, and I couldn't for the life of me remember what the hell I fed him for breakfast.
Lunch I could remember, because it had just been an hour previous. But breakfast? No damned idea whatsoever.
You know your mind has been compromised when you find yourself digging through the trash, trying to find some sort of reminder as to what you fed your son that very morning.
At least I knew today was Friday, but I only really remembered that because yesterday was Thursday, which was my day to do Kangaroo Care with my daughter. I held her for over two hours, and she did fabulous, without experiencing even one apnea spell, although her heart rate dipped a couple times, but she pulled herself back up without requiring external stimulation.
I just re-read that last sentence using the voice of the Asian curio shop salesman who sold Homer the cursed Krusty doll, and that perfectly captures the daily NICU experience.
NURSE: Your daughter is doing well, and you can hold her.
ME: That's good!
NURSE: But beware, she could have apnea spells.
ME: Ooh, that's bad.
NURSE: But she'll probably pull herself out of them.
ME: That's good!
NURSE: But sometimes she won't.
ME: That's bad.
NURSE: But we can increase her oxygen to help her back up.
ME: That's good!
NURSE: But too much oxygen can damage her lungs and other organs.
ME: That's bad.
NURSE: But she's made it to 30 weeks development, which is a big accomplishment for a girl born at 23 weeks.
ME: That's good!
NURSE: But she has a long ways to go and could have lots of ups and downs between now and April.
ME: . . .
NURSE: That's bad.
ME: Can I hold her now?
So, yeah, anyway, it's Friday, and the weekend could entail a major "snow event" as the meteorologists are fond of calling blizzards nowadays, so I'm sure that will complicate our schedule and routine that don't actually exist, but it's fun to pretend they do.
Oh, and for those of you I left hanging in serious suspense earlier: Oatmeal. I fed my boy oatmeal for breakfast. It was apple and cinnamon oatmeal, if the package I found in the trash is to be believed.
Just in case you don't know the Simpsons episode (and you should be ashamed if you don't):
Posted by Ryan at February 18, 2011 06:22 PM | TrackBackThat cracked me up. I feel glad you can laugh in this time. My sick sense of humor has helped me survive too. I'm hoping so much that your daughter comes home with you.
Posted by: Tracy, txmom2many at February 20, 2011 08:33 AM
Stumble It!
