Well, I Lied

Of course, as soon as I create an entire blog titled “Tales From the Plastic Crib,” my little mischief-maker turns around and graduates to a big boy crib. So, just pretend this blog is called, “Tales From the Metal Crib.”

a href=”https://theplasticcrib.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/20140515-155337.jpg”>20140515-155337.jpg

He’s a stinker! (Said in my best Ana from “Frozen” voice impression)

What’s been up with Mr. Jackson today? Well, his breathing is doing somewhat better than the early days. When we rushed him to the ER, he was breathing 128 breaths/min., whereas a newborn normally breathes 40-60 breaths/min. So, yeah, he was quite the overachiever in that area.

Lately, he has been in the 60-90 range, which is better, but not great. They’re giving him more oxygen, as well as two meds to keep the pressure and workload off his heart, which should help with the tachypnea (ta-kip-nee-ah), aka huffing and puffing to breathe.

Why is the breathing so important? Besides the obvious (I mean, DUH), it’s our golden ticket to going home. His oxygen is under control, so, if we can get his breathing down enough for me to bottle feed him for two days straight (his breathing has to be below 65/minute in order for it to be worth the calories he’s burning by having to suck), then we’re in business.

So, to recap:

Meds regulated and slower breathing = bottle feeding —> bottle feeding (plus good O2 levels, and adequate heart rate) = going home.

Which, is why I stare at this screen. All. Day. Long. At least it’s pretty colors.


If that all doesn’t happen, we’re looking at surgery, and soon. Little buddy’s heart, which is technically in congestive heart failure already, is making him work too hard. The good news is the cardiologist said he would be strong enough to do the surgery today if he had to for some reason. So, that’s a positive sign!

The nurses just love him, and his funky, comic book Honest diapers. Who wouldn’t?!


Now, I’m off to find some sleepers that snap down the front and have no feet, because that is the optimal attire for a NICU baby sporting wires all over his tiny body! I’ll be glad when we get to cut those strings and turn Pinnochio back into a real boy at home, where he BELONGS!

2 thoughts on “Well, I Lied

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