Today I celebrate my grandson's second birthday. He is a fighter, he is laughter, he is alive.
The day he was born I received an early morning phone call from my daughter. The baby hadn't moved in over 24 hours and she was worried. She called her doctor, went to office, nurse said nothing to worry about and sent us upstairs for an ultrasound. While waiting we were told to instead head to the hospital 20 minutes away.
When we arrived my daughter was taken to her room and my youngest granddaughter and I were sent to the waiting room while they did a portable ultrasound in her room. We watched scurrying nurses, technicians and doctors. Within minutes my daughter was headed for an emergency C-section....we were told nothing more. Savannah and I watched her go through the surgery doors not knowing the struggle that was going on inside until much later.
Fifteen minutes later the was an exit from that room with the pediatrician and several. Urges running to the NICU. We did not know this was my grandson, he was not breathing. A nurse came out to ask what his name was going to be...why not ask my daughter? The struggle was still going on.
It took a team of experts more than two hours to stabilize this tiny guy once they finally cleared his lungs of merconium. His struggle was just beginning. His mother was returned to her room without sutures as they planned to transfer both her and the little guy to another better equipped hospital. We heard nothing from anyone for a couple hours, didn't know the struggle going on in the nursery, no baby news. My daughter explained that there was no heartbeat for little guy when they did the ultrasound, that she never heard him cry, that she never had a chance to see him. They had not told her anything other than she had the best high risk pediatrician in the area.
The wait for news was long. First they were going to transfer him to a hospital about an hour away, asked who was going with him. They brought him in the room in an incubator for his mother to say good-bye, not telling any of us that they didn't expect him to survive the ride. She couldn't touch him, all she could do was cry.
I got in my car and drove to meet the ambulance at the hospital, went upstairs to the NICU. I was met by a nurse that rushed me back through the hospital out to the waiting ambulance. Little guy was not going to stay there. He was being med-flighted to a Children's hospital 2 1/2 hours away. They had less than an hour to get him there and to get his body temp lowered to preserve his brain functions as much as possible....they had already started. I sat in that ambulance, touched his little hand and talked to him. Told him that his mom and family loved him and that I would be with him soon. Again, no medical personnel told us they didn't expect him to make it there or to survive.
I called my daughter, gave her the news, told her that as soon as I got to the hospital that I would call her again. As I drove, I prayed. For two hours and a half hours I prayed. I called family in the area to tell them that she had given birth...most didn't know she was pregnant though they had seen her at the holidays...she was past her due date. They beat me to the hospital.
When I arrived I was checked in, given a badge and taken to his room. He was hooked up to so many monitors but he was alive. They had started the cooling process that would last three days. A process that they had only used twice before and once since then. I was in charge of who could see him. That night I allowed almost everyone. They then disappeared for several months but the prayers continued. I called my daughter to have a local minster come pray, he took it back to his congregation. Prayers bring miracles.
I stayed with little guy
constantly for the next couple days, the nurses were wonderful, the rest were rigorous, I watched monitors, oxygen stats, watch his first seizure. After two days I made the six hour round trip to bring his mom to him. She was in a wheelchair, signed herself out after they told her they were keeping him alive until she could get there. . . The first time they told her that he wasn't expect to come out of the hospital. It was a tough trip.
She held his hand on that third day as they removed his breathing tube. He breathed on his own with just an oxygen tube, it was reinserted only one more time. The following day they slowly started raising his temperature. It took three days to bring his temperature to normal. Another victory, he survived. After being in a trauma room for a week they moved us to another room in the NICU and then the struggle to have him maintain. He was 7# 4oz at birth, he lost more than a pound, went through brain scans, lung scans and several more tests over the next couple weeks. The struggle with his weight continues.
Finally they informed us that he would have problems his entire life, a teamed brain injury from lack of oxygen. He would probably be non-functioning. They had not had any long them survival with the "freezing technique" and he had arrived later than they had hoped. They took longer to warm him, hoping to have her hold him.
Now, my family are fighters, my daughter fought to bring him home, she has never healed from her c-section because they only closed the incision with steri-strips thinking she would be transferred and on bed rest. We never left that hospital until he did, eighteen days after arriving...he did return for another couple weeks later but that is a weight struggle.
This little guy does have one major "issue" he verbalize. He does sign! He walks, can not run. He climbs, he laughs, he steals your heart. His favorite thing to ....to take selfies.
He is a miracle..thank God for saving him and bringing a new joy into our lives.
Happy 2nd birthday Sebastian Quinn.
Two years old and weigh fifteen pounds...that boy nurses like crazy, lives soft foods but doesn't gain weight. I don't want to drink breast milk but rest of his metabolism I will take.