Three Rides for a Dollar

I have never been one for amusement or theme parks. I rode my first rollercoaster at 26 years old, and I am not sure why I even bothered then. It was probably peer pressure. I am not big into thrill seeking or risk taking, and I don't care for wasting money. It should not be surprising that I am not into Las Vegas, either.

It should be surprising that I am any fun whatsoever.

Amusement parks are not amusing to me, by definition:

1 : a means of amusing or entertaining amusements
2 : the condition of being amused amusement
3 : pleasurable diversion : entertainment amusement

Amusement parks could be renamed Tedium Parks or Trepidation Parks in my world. There's just not much for me to do except people watch, and then all I can think is "the herd is unhealthy." It would figure that my little man is a thrill seeker, and he's already into shocking and worrying his parents. We had become too used to arriving at the hospital and getting glowing reports from his nurses. He's been a little overachiever. I was not expecting to get to his bedside this morning and hear "He's been good for me, but he had sort of a rough night" in answer to my usual "How's he doing?" question.

Overnight, he had 11 spells. That's more than he usually has in the course of a couple of days. For two of the spells, he needed a lot of work to get him to come around. I am guessing that he had to be bagged. I did not ask. I looked down at our sleeping little baby and had that choking, desperate feeling that accompanies an all-encompassing fear of loss. I did not want to start crying at his bedside because I don't like to do such things in public, and I was afraid that if I started right then, I might not be able to stop.

He's back on the high flow, back up to 2 liters, and 30%. They checked for infection and found no signs, and his blood test was good as well.

Suddenly, after Pete had a great cuddle last night, with no spells and barely a de-sat, it's like two weeks ago. It's the proverbial step back that parents of preemies have to get used to, and that we have to expect. I know that I had finally settled into a comfortable space, at least in my head, if not in my schedule, and this was a big, fat reminder that he's a teeny tiny baby with immature systems who still has a long way to go.

We thought it could be his red blood cell level, and that he might need another transfusion, but when the doctor called Pete later in the morning, she said that she thought his level was fine, even good, and that she did not want to go the transfusion route. When they get too many transfusions, their bodies don't think that they need to make their own red blood cells, and it's hard to oxygenate when you don't have enough of those snazzy little things. The doctor also said, as Pete was reminding me in the parking lot, that he's acting like a preemie; they do these sorts of things. We thought he might have to go back on the ventilator; we thought he might have to go back on C-PAP; we thought he might have to have another transfusion. What we need to remember is that we don't really know what will happen. This is something that I was concentrating on throughout my pregnancy: trying to be as pragmatic as possible. That was relatively easy during the pregnant part (relatively), but it's much more difficult when faced with sweet little actual baby.

We had our morning visit with him, during which he had a spell, and we talked to him for a little while. I made it to the car, and Pete talked me down. I made it to work, and have made it through the day, which means I should be fine for now. Our Little Man weighed 1410 grams this morning (3.109 pounds), and he seems to recognize our voices, but it's hard to tell. Of course, we like to think he does.

I think that this whole experience will be enough amusement for me until Finn wants to go on the rides.