Withdrawl

Today Hana has been very agitated. She has been awake since 6:15 without a nap. She has the shakes and is inconsolable. They believe it is from drug withdrawal from the morphine and Versed. Someone needs to constantly be with her to entertain, distract, console her and she is still crying (a strange cry/whimper like I’ve never heard from her before), kicking her legs and arching her back. We take shifts being with her. I’ve probably spent the least amount of time in her room. Between pumping breastmilk, trying to eat, drink water and go to the bathroom, there seems to be a shortage of time. Then I feel guilty. I am not doing a good job at taking care of myself. I am exhausted and copious amounts of coffee are only doing so much (and keeping me up too late). Thank goodness for my parents and Paul, who is so devoted.

They have her Ativan. Then more Ativan. Then they gave her a small dose of morphine. It wasn’t helping. Her heart rate was really high. Finally, they got the amount of Ativan and morphine right so she could rest. They also increased her high flow up to 10L and they increased her dopamine to 5. We will start again tomorrow trying to wean her off some drugs.

It was a stressful day. Poor Hana was the most stressed. It’s terrible watching a baby go through drug withdrawal. Nothing calms them. I hope her heart can get some rest from the last 12 hours of agitation.

I went for a jog in the evening. I was assured by a number of people that it would be good for me to get out. I need movement and fresh air. I need it to give me the energy to get through days like today – and I have a feeling there may be a lot more days like today. Towards the end of my jog I started to cry and I imagined holding my healthy baby in my arms. It’s hard to find peace and yet, I think if I can manage some moments of peace, I can find some more strength. I might just need to take more deep breaths. We go from holding our breath to letting go of a sigh back to holding our breath. That takes a lot of energy (as does feeling guilty). I need to move breath more freely.

I sat outside the hospital on a bench in my running clothes and cried into my hands. I kept thinking, “My baby, Hana. My baby, Hana.” Then I went inside.

Oh, my sweet Hana.

This is Hana as we are waiting for her new room to be ready:

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This is Hana finally resting:

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