We're so close to Jake's homecoming we can taste it, but he still needs to perfect the feeding thing. He's up to eight bottles a day, but has yet to make it through a 24-hour cycle without having an episode during a feed, or needing to be tubed when he can't finish the bottle. Eric and I now equate feedings to the old gameshow "Press Your Luck." As we cautiously proceed with what should be a fairly stress-free task, we occasionally chant, "No Wammies, No Wammies!" (You have to know the show to get the Wammie part.) If he's already blown a feed, the pressure's off since we know he'll have to start over the next day anyway (the cycle starts fresh at 8:30am). But if he's good up to that point, the stakes are higher. (I asked a nurse if he can smell fear, but we decided that only applies to dogs and horses.)
Anyhoo, the day is getting closer. In the meantime, Eric and I took the infant CPR class (along with the grand'rents and Mary and her daughter) and have been trained on the monitor we'll be going home with. (Mama Bear had to do a bit of "lobbying" to make the monitor happen since many docs feel it's more for the parent than the baby and can be a real pain in the neck with all sorts of false alarms, etc., sure to wake a 2-year-old and crazy poodle. But we're the ones that have to live with it--and ourselves, for the one time we wished we had it.)
So that's the latest. Please keep praying for no more apnea or bradys while eating, and that Jake finds his bottles good to the last drop so he graduates and vacates!
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