48 Hours in Madison

Technically it was 48 hours to, from, and in Madison. 

If we are being specific.

Henry's first trip to the big city. 

I was sad I hadn't brought our fave book Little Blue Truck Leads the Way, but I did quote it (Towering buildings scraped the sky/'Beep' said Blue 'The city is high!')

I actually thought I would be much more nervous about the whole thing than I was. I made my list of things to bring. I checked it twice. 

And then I realized that I also would need clothes and overnight items, not just Henry. 🤣

I knew kids required lots of accessories for travel, but truly 3/4-7/8 of what we packed into the car was baby related. I can't imagine what it is going to be like when he has opinions about toys and things, and also when I have to pack snacks for him and not just for myself. (Of course, at that point we will no longer need the breast pump and breast feeding pillow so maybe that evens out?)

This was an excellent practice run for the 3x longer hotel stay we have coming up next week. I can confidently say that 1) we did not forget anything super important* and 2) we are going to need way more diapers than we thought.

*Although once again I did not bring a blanket into the hospital with me. Even though I had packed TWO.

Miraculously, Henry slept beautifully in the hotel room. I've never been so thankful for obnoxiously loud hotel air conditioning units before, but that white noise surely helped. (I did have a sound machine app on my phone, and thought I had one on my iPad, too, just in case. Turns out it was on the OTHER iPad. Because yes, I have two. Education jobs reap small rewards in lieu of actual salaries.)

I was a little worried about actually picking him up out of what was certainly the biggest and deepest crib he has ever slept in, but we managed.

In the morning, Henry astonished us by suddenly deciding he could grip and shake his light up rattle with furiously happy intention. Up until now he had half-heartedly pushed at it, although he has been building up his desire to grab at things (hence all of the random pieces of my hair wrapped around his hands).

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. We made it to pre-op where we learned he was 13 lbs. 14 oz. and 24 inches, growing like a weed. (Well, maybe like a watermelon, or a squash? Something that also grows wider...) 

He fell asleep and I was able to carry him right to the door where the procedure was going to happen. It took maybe 2 hours (?) and the wonderful doctor came and told us everything had gone as well as could be. They had ballooned open the narrow area and pressures looked good all around.

We were able to go up to his PICU room shortly thereafter, and much to everyone's astonishment (no more so than mine) Henry was NOT screaming to be fed right away, but instead won (imaginary) awards for being entirely chill and content to rest. This was good because no pulse was immediately felt in his foot and so nurses and doctors were repeatedly coming into check on it, which would have indicated the possibility of a clot in the vein. Thankfully all was eventually well and he didn't need any extra medicine to help with that.

Over the next 18 hours or so we fell back into the routine of the PICU, although this time he had many fewer lines, we knew how to do his bedtime routine, and I stayed overnight. I spent the night in one of the sleeping rooms which were dark and quiet, if not the most comfortable place to sleep. Around 4:00AM I woke up and went to check on Henry, and he, of course, seemed to sense I was there and woke up to eat. Unlike at home, I then let the nurse lull him back to sleep. (She insisted. I swear!) When I went to feed him again around 7:30, I found myself entering the room with the technician who was tasked with his echocardiogram. This led to a complicated array of activities to keep Henry happy which included Freddie the Firefly and his rattle, but ultimately required stored milk warmed for a bottle followed by me pumping MORE milk so that kiddo could eat 5 oz. of milk. (Hungry, Hungry Henry.)

What was truly special for us was that his two main nurses from our time there before either added shifts or snagged responsibility for him so that they could have the chance to see him. (We benefitted as well because they continued to also take amazing care of US.) I just cannot say enough about everyone at the hospital we have worked with.

So, now we are back at home, trying to get back into the groove, preparing for visiting grandparents, and continuing to find it amusing that the words 'poop explosion' never cease to make Henry silently laugh.