Week One

Right after birth, Teagan was whisked to her very own suite at Evergreen Hospital.  She is a little fighter, as her name would indicate, and she decided she didn't like the little breathing tube down her throat, so she just pulled that right out.  The nurses had to re-intubate her and also put her on a little morphine to calm her down.

The medications and feedings they have been giving her through an IV are all in milliliters (mL).  Its amazing all the IV lines they had going into her, each with a specific function.

Her blood sugars started out on the high side (like Mimi's - Grandma Carolyn) but she has been weaned completely off insulin and is doing well.  They also gave her a little caffeine to stimulate lung development.  The nurses refer to this as her "quad shot".  Only in Seattle....

Mommy gets a little panicky without her coffee too.

She has been completely feeding breast milk the whole time.  That has been slowly increased to 6 mL per three hours and she has been digesting it with very little residual left in her tummy afterward.  This is huge as she gets all her antibodies and all the good fats and nutrients she needs from the milk.  It's also the best way I know of to introduce her to Top Pot doughnuts early on.  Also because of all the milk, she has started needing the tiniest diaper changes you have ever seen. 

Teagan and Daddy's hand

Her oxygen levels were on the low side, so they kept her on an oscillator at first.  This has improved so much that instead of moving her to the ventilator like the doctors thought she would need to, they moved her directly to a CPAP machine (Like Grandpa Ralph uses at night!).

The doctor noticed a slight heart murmur.  This is very common in preemies.  They frequently get PDA or what is called a ductus.  They ordered an echocardiogram and if they find the ductus, will treat it with medication.  If the medication doesn't work, then Teagan may need a surgical procedure where they clamp the ductus closed.

 She has her eyes open just a little and we can see her move them in the direction of our voices.  She is almost continuously moving her arms and kicking her legs - usually to kick off the plastic sheet that keeps her skin hydrated.  Her skin is too fragile to rub or hold yet, but we have been able to touch her (her whole hand is the size of my fingertip!) and kiss her tiny feet.

Whoa, Baby!

This post is a little delayed, but it's important to back up in the story before we move forward.

The weekend of June 10 - 12, Ian and I decided to go on a bit of a "BabyMoon" - like a honeymoon for new parent to be when they realize that it ain't gonna be happening again for a LOOOONNNGGGG time.  We decided to go to Whistler for the weekend, relax, eat crepes, hit the Olympic Mountain Park, watch Canadian Cable, and have a good time.

 I ALWAYS blink, dammit.

 After a few days, Ian really needed a shave.  Just kidding!  There were TONS of black bears!

 There's our hero!  (I might mean the Jeep.)

 They're just really, really thin pancakes...

Does this Olympic Sculpture make me look fat?

Anyhow, on the drive home, my ribs started hurting.   I figured it was no big deal and that I had just slept on my back wrong.  Over the next few days it started getting worse and worse, and by Wednesday, I couldn't sleep all night long.  We went into Urgent Care in Issaquah thinking they would just send us home for overreacting to extreme heartburn.  Instead the doctor on duty sent us to Overlake Hospital in Bellevue's ER.

At Overlake, they took an ultrasound of my chest, took my blood pressure (260/150) and started running blood tests.  The doctors were going to do some "sleuthing" but I should lie down, and they gave me Magnesium Sulfate which made me feel a little like I was on fire.  Dr. Haines, my OBGYN came over from his practice in Bellevue to tell me that they were working on the problem.  The doctors finally came back and explained that I had HELLP Syndrome, which is a rare occurrence that combines severe high blood pressure, elevated liver enzymes and low blood platelets.

Ian and I sat stunned as they explained that they would need to deliver our baby, possibly that afternoon if they could not get my stats in line. I automatically thought the worst - I had never heard of a baby being born at 24 weeks and change and surviving.  The doctors explained there would be a 50-80% chance she would survive and a good chance she may have complications.  They also explained that Overlake Hospital in Bellevue didn't have the resources to deliver and care for a 24 week preemie, so I was being transferred to Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland via ambulance.

When I got to Evergreen, they were able to even my stats out over the next afternoon.  They gave me a steroid shot to help the baby develop her lungs and respiratory system faster in case they would need to deliver.  The plan was to keep me stable in the hospital as long as possible and if things took a turn for the worse, to deliver the baby.  With my blood platelets so low I would probably need a transfusion first.  How long could I stay on bed rest in the hospital?  However long you need to was the reply.  Weeks?  Weeks.  Months?  Months.  I was starting to get a little freaked out.  Especially since they were taking my blood pressure every hour, taking blood tests every 4 hours and my arms were starting to look like a pincushion running out of places to poke.

Meanwhile, they had to keep constant monitoring on the baby, which isn't hard on a larger baby, but 24 weekers still have room to move and hide.  The nurses (who were all incredibly nice and helpful) would joke with me about the little java bean hiding behind my belly button and kicking back at the monitors.  They would ask me if we had a name picked out, which, among many other questions that were asked about her got the response "We thought we had until October to figure that out."  Ian would read me names from books and we would star the ones we liked, but part of me worried if I could take the heartbreak if we got too attached.  Maybe we shouldn't give her our favorite name, just in case.  It's horrible to think that way, I know.

Many thanks to all our friends and family who came to visit, called, texted and supported us in so many ways.  We could not have made it without you and we are so thankful for everyone.

Saturday night things started to take a turn for the worse.  My blood pressure shot up, my ribs started burning again, and despite everything the nurse on duty did, things kept getting worse.  Ian thankfully had decided to stay the night in the hospital because I got weaker and weaker.  Finally Ian told the nurse it was time to call the doctor.  Dr. De Regt came, ordered a EKG of my chest to check for blood clots, then decided it was time to deliver.  By that point it was like a bizarre nightmare I couldn't wake up from.  Ian called and had a friend pick my mother up in Issaquah and bring her to the hospital.  They decided to give me an epidural and keep me awake during the surgery as it was safer for the baby and I.  I nearly cried at the thought of another needle, but Ian held my hand.  I was lucky that Ian was as level-headed as he was because it helped tremendously to have him there during the surgery.

As the surgeons worked, I thought to myself "This little girl can't come into the world without a name.  And she deserves parents who are all in, committed to her success."  I turned to Ian and told him, "Let's name her Teagan Leigh"  Teagan is a Welsh name meaning "warrior".  I saw Teagan carried past and Ian was asked if he wanted to stay with me or go with the baby.  I told him to go and they were off.

Teagan Leigh Balin was born at 5:44 am on June 19th 2011, Father's Day, weighing 1 lb 2 oz.  She was 11.4 inches long and had a head circumference of 8.3 inches.

I was taken to the ICU for a day following the c-section, then returned to my previous hospital room for further treatment.  I was slowly weaned off the Magnesium and the other medications.  I was strong enough to first see Teagan on Tuesday night.  The nurse on duty let me touch her hand - her whole hand was the size of my fingertip.  

I was discharged from the hospital on Thursday, with steadier blood pressure, but weak and unable to drive for the next couple weeks.  My mom thankfully is staying for the whole time and has agreed to white-knuckle drive I-90 and I-405 to the hospital and back.  Currently, I'm tired but getting stronger day by day.  From here on out, this blog will focus on Teagan's progress.  Because all Teagan's paperwork currently calls her "Baby Girl Balin", even though we already named her,  I thought that was an appropriate name for this blog.

Again, we are so thankful, amazed and humbled by the outpouring of kindness, support and generosity of our family, friends, colleagues, even perfect strangers.  It is the direct reason we can handle this as well as we have been able to thus far, and it means more than we could say.

Stay tuned for more updates as our little warrior begins her life, with an army of loved ones around her.

Baby's First....

I'm a bit delayed in writing this, but recently we took Baby Balin, whom we are delighted to announce is a little girl to her very first concert.  The Seattle Rock Orchestra gave a performance of Queen's Night at the Opera.

It was fantastic.  I you have never seen the Seattle Rock Orchestra and you get the opportunity - its amazing.  A group of talented folks that have gotten together because they love the music.  They had a full choir in addition to the orchestra, and a rock band, and had recruited the lead singers from several local bands like the Pilots and Honeypot to sing vocals. 

Complete with an encore sing-along to "Bohemian Rhapsody" - it was a perfect evening.  And how many little girls born in 2011 get to say their first concert was Queen?  I'm looking forward to more "in utero" performances.  Then she'll have to wait a bit.

But it started me thinking about other "firsts" she will have.  I'm just materialistic to start thinking about the first car she will ride in, her first stroller, her first Louis Vouitton handbag (Thank you, Aunt Kathy!).  The other day Ian and I were discussing her first word.

"Sheesh, since she can already hear my voice, her first word is probably going to be 'Fuck'.  Or 'Shit'."
"Well, if it is, we'll just keep trying for Mama or Dada."
"Ha, nah, we'll just write it in the baby book as 'Duck'."

It's the funny little stories of our firsts that we internalize and look to give ourselves definition.  When I was born, my mother was so dead set against having an epidural for some ungodly reason that she made my dad wait to take her to the hospital.  That wait caused them to catch the train at a crossroads and I was very nearly born right there in my father's BMW.  Some would say that this is why I am a master procrastinator.  Others might say it contributes to my taste for fine German engineering.  We are nothing if not rationalizing creatures.

Recognizing that there will probably be far too many "firsts" to keep track of, and not knowing which ones will become important to her later on as the gospel of who she is, I can only hope to keep track of as many firsts as possible and leave it up to Baby Balin to decide what's important to her.