Due dates and other musings

So turns out there is a small, albeit vocal, following of this blog here in Dili (and yes, of course the family abroad are yelling out!) who implored me to keep writing.  While I realize the initial draw for most readers who were not somehow related to us, was perhaps something of the intrigue of the whole ordeal, and that - in all fairness, that has since pretty much worn off.  Which, after fourteen months, I have come to appreciate as a good thing.

Luka 22 March 2012,
Visalia CA

By way of a preface, I should point out that today, May 27th, is and was always supposed to be Luka's due date.  Of course, 'they' tell you that due dates are all a pile of smelly stuff, which in my enlightened state of pregnancy led me to respond to the big question with 'oh somewhere toward the end of May' - but secretly, every first-time pregnant woman hangs on to the notion of a due date like she last did for good weather on her wedding day even though 'they' tell you rain means good luck.

So, here we are, a whole two months and one week after we celebrated Luka's 1st birthday in the US with the extended US and South African families, and we have so much to be grateful for.  Chris and I recently reminisced about how much Luka has changed (matured if you will) in the past two months from this young man playing with his legos in grandma's house, to the toothy toddler rough-housing at today's bub club.

Luka, Dili 27 May, 2012

Of course, people point out what an amazing little creature he has become, and what a miracle the whole story is.  Which just reminded me once again over the past few days how incredibly, and indescribably fortunate we have been.  In thinking back to the dreadful day where we boarded a 70-minute flight to our future family, and measuring the difference between March 22 and May 27th, I am just blown away when I think of the whole thing one year ago.  I was not quite as able to take in the whole 'due date' anniversary last year as this day last year also coincides with the day that Luka was released from his second stint in the NICU, for his emergency surgery in Cape Town.

Consider that Timor-Leste, one of the poorest countries in Asia and where we currently live, is not the best place to be a child.  According to Save the Children, at least 54% of Timorese children under five have stunted growth due to malnutrition. In addition, it seems to me that most families I come across know first-hand the pain of losing a child(ren) at some point.  For most Timorese women, even the option of hospitalization is not always there, let alone one with the kind of care one would need for a premature birth.  My recent discussions and guidance to a colleague who's friend had a premature baby in the national hospital a few weeks ago and was being kept in a separate room in the hospital, away from the infant, with no instruction to touch, care for, or hold the small creature, alerted me to the breadth of support one needs in a situation such as the one we had.

Of course, I had a credit card and could access the internet to book a one-way ticket out of here.  I also had a US passport and health insurance to evacuate and get the care that my child seemingly deserved to give him the jump-start he needed.  As a result, I can't help but feel somewhat guilty when I bounce a healthy 11kg former preemie who more closely resemble 3-year old Timorese kids.  When I say 'guilty', I don't mean it in a melodramatic sort of way - but just that I can't imagine what I would have done without the caring instructions, guidance, support and encouragement I received from my midwives, pediatricians, nurses, lactation consultants and every other single person that guided us through that time in our life.

Today, we love watching Luka as he finally figures out this 'walking' thing, click his tongue, point to the light and hug our cat Gus.  I live for, and relish in his recent rediscovering of hugging and lap-sitting, especially at night, after his massage and bottle, when he decides he has had enough milk, hands me the bottle, sits up on my lap - throws his arms around my neck, and nuzzles his face, snuggling in secret  for a few seconds before pointing to his bed.

On his due date, all these many weeks after his actual birth date, I say a small prayer for all those who go into premature labor without the support network, care, encouragement and resources that I had at my disposal.  I also thank, once again, the doctors, midwives, nurses and administrators at the Royal Darwin Hospital in Australia, as well as my birth and antenatal coaches, and the staff and doctors at Vincent Palotti Hospital in Cape Town.  Luka is a product of his strong-willed parents, but he is also a testament to the difference world-class medical care make in our lives.

When blue is bad

Had pretty much the most terrifying experience with Luka since his regular apneas and other arrests in the NICU seven months ago.  While feeding him his mushed carrots and pumpkin this afternoon (which, similar to the breastfeeding these days, pretty much resemble an MMA match) he suddenly choked.  Now obviously any new parent has the overwhelming fear that you will tumble down the steps while carrying your child and smash his head very graphically into the wall, or you will accidentally let your car drop off the particularly wobbly bit of embankment next to the big bazaar in town (okay, only for those living in third-world cities, but still), and of course, the fear of having to do CPR on your child.  Well, as I watched Luka choke, then cough, then turn a bright red, followed by purple'ish/blue today - I immediately kicked into fight/flight/freeze (and fortunately did not freeze).  I yanked him swiftly out of his Baby Bjorn rocker chair where he was happily munching away a second ago, and in one swell swoop, flipped him onto his stomach, lying face down on my left hand and started banging his back with the flat of my right hand.  Of course I am leaning over trying to watch his face for a reaction, and god willing a piece of food to come flying out followed by a relieved hack, cough and a cry - but none came - instead, in panic, not knowing exactly what I would do next if I didn't get him to breathe again, I flipped him up, and grabbed him around a waist and performed my best interpretation of a Heimlich maneuver.  Of course, through all this, Chris was not home - and I remember, in the seconds (that felt like hours) of manipulating Luka's airways, I briefly thought about calling Chris - what I would say to my husband carelessly shopping for Australian-style plugs and fruit, I am not sure - but it seemed like a good thought to have.

The whole ordeal came to an end when Chris walked through the door, me with Luka still face-down, looking up at him saying 'he's not BREATHING!' - he rushed over, I handed Luka to him, who was still a little choked up, but he let out a big cry and Chris just tried to convince me that 'if he's crying, he's fine' and telling me how great I did...

...let me tell you...worst experience EVER.

In hindsight, my Emergency First Responder (EFR) training definitely kicked in as I instinctively grabbed him, flipped him over and started smacking him in the right manner - but I know in Australia they don't recommend or teach the Heimlich for infants anymore, so of  course I was terrified that I had somehow done any damage to him in doing so...happy to report though that he is fine.  Mommy's nerves notwithstanding.  I am sure this is not the last time I'll get a scare, I mean, he hasn't even started riding a bike yet, but holy cow. If you've ever watched your little one turn blue, you'll know what I'm talking about - and if you haven't, count yourself lucky.