Their Special-Care Baby

Stewart smiled warmly at the crib and then at Desiree. ‘She is very beautiful. I’m glad you think that. A lot of people can’t see the beauty in a premature baby. They look so different to the image most people have of newborn babies.’ He shook his head at the unenlightened. ‘She is a miracle of creation.’

Stewart crouched down and slipped his arm around Desiree’s shoulder and hugged her gently as they peered into the crib.

Somehow Desiree knew he would do that for any new mother confronted by a tiny skinned rabbit of a baby, but she was glad of even that small comfort. More than glad—she was in desperate need of strong arms around her.

‘She’s gorgeous,’ he went on. ‘Her skin is only a few cells thick and very delicate. Her tiny veins are so clear under her skin the vessels look like lace. At the moment we’re using the umbilical vein for intravenous access, which is what the contraption stuck to her tummy is about.’

There was an ice-cream-stick bridge of balsa and strapping taped to her baby’s soft belly that supported a long tube connected to the IV stand and fluids.

He pointed to the thicker red tubing that sealed each of Desiree’s daughter’s tiny nostrils. ‘She’s managing well on CPAP, which is the name we give this nasal continuous positive airway pressure that keeps her lungs inflated.’

He checked to see that she was following his explanation. ‘A tiny amount of air stays in the lungs to stop the lung surfaces sticking together like wet paper.

‘Whenever she doesn’t breathe, the machine breathes for her, as necessary. But she’s doing most of it herself.’

They both looked at the diminutive face disfigured by the thick tubing.

Stewart lowered his voice. ‘I know the tubing does stretch her nostrils and make them look larger than they are but there are disadvantages for throat intubation of infants as well.’

Desiree found herself checking the monitors and glancing over the intravenous fluids and she felt reassured by the numbers. She still had trouble grasping that this was her baby connected to these leads and monitors, but surely ‘reassured’ seemed a strange thing to be in the circumstances.

Had she been here or somewhere like this before?

Had Sophie been born prematurely as well? Could she be as familiar with this equipment as it all seemed?

Her heart pounded with the thrill of excitement at the thought of a breakthrough in her memory block.

Surely most parents wouldn’t feel this comfortable with such a bombardment of technology around their tiny precious baby. She must have loads of experience with such a place or been there before.

Stewart broke into her thoughts as he introduced a third person. ‘This is Gina. Gina is one of your daughter’s primary carers. She’s a neonatal nurse.’

‘Hello, Gina.’ Desiree forced herself to smile at the tall girl who was caring for her daughter and tried not to think she looked as if she should still be at school.

The young nurse stood up from her stool beside the crib where she’d been recording observations and shook Desiree’s hand.

Gina grinned at Desiree. ‘Your daughter has a very determined will. Dr Kramer says she takes after her mother.’

Desiree smiled and glanced at Stewart before looking back at her daughter. It warmed her that he thought that and it had been good of him to say so.

She still couldn’t believe her baby was here to see in front of her eyes when she could barely remember her pregnancy. ‘Can I touch her?’

Stewart answered. ‘Absolutely. But remember if you touch her charts, or a phone, or anything, you need to wash your hands before you open the door again. The humidicribs are perfect places for germs to grow and she’s very susceptible at the moment.’

Desiree nodded and gently opened the crib door and stroked the top of her daughter’s tiny hand. ‘She’s so tiny but perfect.’

‘I think so,’ Stewart agreed, and there was no doubting his sincerity.

Desiree knew her daughter was in good hands. ‘So what have you done for her so far?’

Stewart glanced at Gina. ‘Very determined.’

He looked back at Desiree with a smile. ‘Are you ready for this?’

Desiree glanced at her baby. She had to be. ‘Yes.’

Stewart nodded. ‘OK. She has respiratory distress syndrome because of her tiny lungs and her sudden arrival but we are treating that with the CPAP I mentioned earlier.

‘Her lungs did not have enough of a substance called surfactant in the air spaces. We gave her a dose of surfactant when she came down to us and that helps the stiffness of her immature lungs so she can inflate them and maintain the expansion she needs to breathe.’

Desiree nodded. That was clear so far. ‘So how long will she stay on CPAP?’

‘Only a few days or possibly more than a week, depending on how much help she needs.’ Stewart glanced at the oxygen saturation monitor screen and nodded at the reading. ‘The amount of oxygen present in your daughter’s skin at the moment is ninety seven per cent, which is great. We don’t need one hundred per cent and would prefer your baby’s levels stay a little under that because of the risk of damage to her eyes.’

Desiree didn’t want to think about damage to eyes. ‘What about infections? What if she does get one? You said she is at risk.’

‘Your daughter is having forty-eight hours of antibiotics intravenously for the risk of infection from her birth. Her skin swab cultures have been clear so far and that medication should stop tomorrow.’

She would pray that everyone washed their hands properly. She could feel herself becoming paranoid already. Was this what premature babies did to you?. She tried to think of something to divert her mind away from the image of other people’s dirty hands going near her daughter and germs colonising happily in the crib. ‘What about food?’

‘The fluids that are dripping into her umbilical vein keep her hydrated and with enough glucose for energy. Gina will discuss tiny tube feeds of breast milk a little later with you.’

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