Fingers Crossed

Keep your fingers crossed -- because so far, it looks like Quinn has averted a real medical crisis.

Her gaggle of doctors and nurses are divided on the theory of what caused her bloody stool earlier this week. Some are certain the increase in her (blood) platelets is an indication her body was wrestling with a virus; others contend her explosive diarrhea started when formula was added to bulk up my breastmilk, which would suggest she has a sensitivity to it. It will take a few more days to figure out, if we can at all, what caused this blip in her progress.

Either way, Jack and I are nothing less than grateful, and pretty close to euphoric that this scare is not materializing into anything more.

For me, it feels like I awoke from two of the worst nightmares I could have in one night . . . As in a twist of fortune, the night Quinn's health seemed to come undone, Jack was suddenly out of touch. It wasn't clear why he didn't call when he emailed to say he would, but I tried through the night not to let my worries expand to that other quadrant of my little universe. Thankfully, by the next morning, both he and our girl proved to be just fine.

That I didn't totally crumble under the uncertainty of both Jack and Quinn's well-being wasn't because I found a stash of superhuman strength in some hospital cabinet, or had learned the secret behind Ronald McDonald's perma-smile . . . Rather, it was from the resounding support and compassion that every member of the hospital staff expressed to me (I think the cleaning lady even reached out to show she cared as she asked me to move the *&@! ouf of her way).

There were not many dry eyes when people stopped by Quinn's room to hold me up with a hug. Some felt they were being "unprofessional" by showing emotion for a patient in front of a parent; whereas all I saw were professionals who understood the gravity of what we as NICU parents, and all humans at some juncture, endure when all our hopes and expectations hang in the balance.

Slowly, Quinn is regaining her strength and is now back to basic feedings of breastmilk through a tube in her nose. She is showing a renewed interest in life as she squirms and roots for food shortly before a feeding, and then afterward stares endlessly at Jack's picture. Tonight, I will sleep soundly knowing she is on the mend.

Thank you all for your concern, encouragement and support. . . It certainly worked and helped keep me sane.

All the best from the snow-capped NICU,
Mama Murphy