Having successfully breastfed 4 babies, I knew something was wrong when Hannah started turning purple during feedings and stopped breathing for 15-25 seconds after nursing for only a few seconds. This started pretty much as soon as my milk came in. She would also slurp and swallow lots of air. She had the suck, swallow part figured out, but not the breathe part. We also have an Owlet baby monitor that alerted for low oxygen and low heart rate several times at night and during feedings.
My friend Sandy brought me lunch on Monday and offered me a ride to see a lactation specialist the next day, since one of our cars was broken down. So on Tuesday morning, when Hannah was 5 days old, we saw a lactation specialist at the WIC clinic. She told me that Hannah had a slight lip tie on top, and also gave me a few ideas about helping her latch better to not swallow so much air. She had never seen a baby stop breathing and turn blue quite like that though, and was very concerned, calling in two other people to get their input. They told me to go straight to the doctor, which I did.The regular pediatrician that we see listened to Hannah's heart and lungs, and I described her non- breathing episodes (she wasn't hungry at this point, and I was also a little hesitant to nurse in front of the 30-something, handsome pediatrician). His initial opinion was acid reflux, and he prescribed a medication for it and sent us on our way.
By this point it was lunchtime and I had been away for several hours, leaving my oldest child Leah alone, home sick from school. I sent my visiting teacher over to my house to check on her. I had told her I'd be gone an hour.
I'll reiterate that this was already a stressful first week of life with a new baby: all of the other kids getting sick in succession, a broken down car, and my mom going back home the day before.
Sandy and I went and got some fast food lunch and let our 2 year olds play while we waited for the prescription, and then Sandy dropped me off at the mechanic to pick up my car and I went home.
Not half and hour later she called me to say that I needed to get a second opinion.
By this point it was almost 3:00. Leah was burning with fever and incredibly bored, Lexie was down for a nap, and the other kids would be getting off the bus soon. I made an appointment to see another doctor within the hour and arranged for a ward member to come and sit with my kids until my husband could get home from work early.
The second doctor, Dr. Henderson watched me nurse Hannah so he could see her disrupted breathing, and see how her oxygen changed (by this time my concern for Hannah outweighed my hesitation to nurse in front of a good looking doctor). Hannah took 25 seconds to inhale and her oxygen dropped to 72%. The second time she stopped breathing for 16 seconds and her oxygen dropped to 67%. I'm so glad that Dr. Henderson trusted my mommy instinct that this was more than just reflux, that I wasn't imagining that she was turning purple, and that this was definitely not normal or OK. I felt that he was truly advocating for Hannah and me, and wanted to be aggressive at figuring out this puzzle. Babies turning blue is definitely a big problem, people! The clinic did a chest x-ray and sent me home, with the expectation of likely admitting Hannah to the hospital once a radiologist could look at her film. It sounds ludicrous now, but after running around all day I remember thinking that it was a terrible day to forget deodorant.
I got home around 5:45 and had a quick bite to eat-a friend had dropped off some pizzas for us! I hugged all the kids and packed a bag. At 6:15 the doctor called to instruct us to go straight to admitting at Utah Valley Hospital, and that Hannah should not eat anything. Hannah was given a priesthood blessing by my husband and some ward members, and she and I went to the hospital.
This was incredibly scary for me. I had several trains of thought. On the one hand, I was worried that this was overkill: "What if this is nothing? What if she's fine and the doctors think I'm a paranoid, helicopter mom? What if we go to the hospital and do tests and put this new baby through all this fuss and get a whole bunch of medical bills for nothing!?" And on the other hand I was terrified that something was really wrong and that we would lose her and this was really the beginning of the end.
I should pause and remind you that Hannah was only 6 days old (as of 6:45 pm), and I was therefore also 6 days postpartum, with all its glorious bells and whistles. I was a hormonal train wreck, emotional, wounded, swollen, exhausted, and still had a fabulous epidural headache. I had been on my feet running around all day for the first time since giving birth. While the day before I had been in the groove of lying low, being waited on, resting, and getting a free pass from dishes and laundry and cooking, I was now in full-on caregiver mode and my recovery was officially over.
Once we were admitted to the pediatric ward, the first step was to rule out an atresia, or a dead end in her esophagus. After getting an IV into an extremely dehydrated newborn, the pediatric doctors inserted a tube down Hannah's throat and took an x-ray to make sure it was completely connected to her stomach. An atresia was unlikely given the fact that Hannah was not throwing up and was obviously getting nutrition since she had plenty of wet and poopy diapers, but it had to be ruled out nonetheless. No atresia.
It was incredibly hard for my momma heart to watch a team of half a dozen nurses and doctors poke and prod my new baby. It took 3 or 4 tries to get an IV going, and also, babies don't like having a tube put down their throat either. Would you?
By 11pm we were left alone to get some sleep for the night. Poor Hannah had IV fluids but an empty belly. I was impressed how surprisingly content she was despite feeling hungry and missing the comfort of nursing. She's such a tiny little peanut in that big scary hospital bed.
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| That pull-out chair in the back was my "bed" for 3 days. If you are tired enough, you can sleep anywhere! |
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