Blue balloons welcomed us home; it was Saturday. Millie and Wells both had special stuffed animals to give to their baby brother. A nurse at the hospital gave us stickers, “big sister” and “big brother”; they were so proud. They both took turns holding Crosby and kissed him on his head. I felt so good to be home.
To make sure Crosby was eating enough through the night, we supplemented with the soy-based formula from the hospital, in addition to my breast milk. He was lethargic from being jaundiced and didn’t want to wake to eat. My milk had finally come in; I was pumping at least 3oz of white, thin milk every session. We made an appointment with the pediatrician for Monday morning for a weight check.
We were unable to book Crosby’s appointment with our regular pediatrician because her schedule was full so we had to see another doctor in the practice whom we didn’t know. When we were checking Crosby into his appointment, the receptionist asked if we had been exposed to Covid in the last ten days. I was honest and told her that I was currently Covid positive (I should’ve lied). We waited a long time before the doctor’s assistant came out to inform us that I could not go back into the room with Crosby; I was told that I could go to my car and they would put me on speaker phone for the visit. Oh heck no. I said, “It has been five days since I tested positive for Covid. If I wasn’t on maternity leave, I’d be expected to go back to work today and teach 500 children. Why can’t I be in the room, masked, with my newborn?” The aide came back after speaking with the doctor and said I was allowed to go back into the room with Crosby.
The medical assistant stretched Crosby out on the table and measured him an inch shorter than what he was measured at the hospital. He shrunk? My emotions were already heightened from the debacle in the waiting room and now I definitely had an attitude. We took off Crosby’s clothes to weigh him and found that he had lost more weight since leaving the hospital. How? I couldn’t believe it. I felt so defeated. The doctor came in and immediately told us that we needed to take Crosby to Nationwide Children’s Hospital to run some tests because he was concerned that Crosby could have brain damage from the lack of nutrition. I got defensive, “My milk just came in. I’m going to take him home and feed him even more. We do not need to go to the hospital for testing.” The doctor told me that if I did not take Crosby to the hospital that he would call Children Services. With that, I started to cry, like ugly, gasping, desperate cry. The doctor asked to examine Crosby. He took one look at his umbilical cord and said, “You’re not only going to the hospital for his weight loss but I am calling the ID unit, Crosby has an infected umbilical cord.”
Omphalitis is an infection of the umbilicus and/or surrounding tissues, occurring primarily in the neonatal period. It is a true medical emergency that can rapidly progress to systemic infection and death, with an estimated mortality rate between 7 and 15 percent.
The doctor left the room to call the hospital to let them know to prepare a room. I was an emotional wreck; how did this happen? Chris and I both noticed that Crosby’s cord site looked different than Millie’s and Wells’ did, but we didn’t know it was from an infection. We felt like failures for not realizing something was wrong. Thankfully, while the doctor was away, our regular pediatrician came in to see us. She reassured me that I was doing everything right in regard to breastfeeding. She told us that if weight loss was the only issue, she’d send us home but she looked at his umbilical cord and agreed that we needed to get it looked at by the infectious disease doctors at the hospital. She explained that the umbilical cord is a direct portal to his insides and that we needed to treat the infection, quickly.
We rushed home and I packed a bag for me and Crosby. I had just cleaned out my hospital bags. I never expected to be packing them up again. When we checked in at the hospital, the receptionist gave Crosby a toucan chime-toy to hang on his car seat. It was a far walk to the infectious disease unit – probably too long for someone who had just given birth days before. Once we were in our room, a nurse came in and took vitals from Crosby. A resident doctor took pictures of Crosby’s umbilical cord site. It was decided that Crosby would be put on antibiotics for a possible infection. If the redness and swelling of the site went down, we’d know that the medicine was doing it’s job. We were warned that if Crosby were to have a drastic fluctuation in body temperature, they would have to perform a spinal tap. I prayed to God that a spinal tap would not be necessary.
Two nurses came to administer Crosby’s IV. They couldn’t find a vein in his little arm. It felt like an eternity that I sat and listened to my 5lb baby boy scream. Tears soaked my face mask. The blood they eventually were able to draw, clotted. I came up out of my chair. I asked, “How?” The nurse said, “It happens.” and continued to reassure the younger nurse that she was doing a good job. I said, “Doing a good job is keeping the blood viable from my son. You should be moving it!” When they were finally done taking multiple vials of blood, they capped the IV and swaddled him tight so that he couldn’t pull it out.
My face was so swollen from crying and Crosby was exhausted from crying. It was getting late and Chris and I decided that he would go home for the night to be with Millie and Wells. Chris helped me figure out how to order dinner. I set up my “bed” on the squeaky recliner chair next to Crosby’s metal crib. Chris didn’t want to leave me and Crosby. He said that leaving us in the hospital was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.
I was trying to breastfeed but feeling so self conscious about how much I was getting so I was also pumping (which was not coming easily with the stress). I was asked to label my bottles and call the nurse anytime I pumped or needed the milk from the fridge. Every diaper that came off Crosby had to be weighed. We went through three swaddles that night; he peed every time I’d change his diaper. Between diaper changes, feeds, IV antibiotics rounds, and vital checks, I did not get any sleep. Around 3 am, Crosby felt cold to the touch. I frantically called the nurse and she checked his temp, which was normal, praise God. They found Crosby a baby hat and I watched the Elvis movie.
At 7am, the jack hammering started. Construction was taking place below our room. I couldn’t have slept if I wanted to. Chris came back just in time to hear from the doctors during their morning rounds. From what they could tell, Crosby’s umbilical site seemed less inflamed. His cultures had not grown. They told us that if he stayed on this trajectory, we could possibly go home at the 24 hour mark. With that good news, I was finally able to catch a few hours of sleep.
At the 24 hour mark, the doctors hadn’t come back in to speak with us. We asked our nurse if going home was still on the table and she told us, no. Every test resulted in Crosby responding well to the antibiotic and we were given no reason other than “further observation” for making us stay another night. I voiced that the hospital wanted us to stay because they could charge our insurance 10k a night for the room (a room with a squeaky chair and construction noise). If we chose not to stay, we’d have to sign a release saying we were leaving against the doctors wishes and in turn, our insurance might not pay for the services we received. We decided to stay for “further observation”.
We FaceTimed with the kids so that they could see Crosby and me. It was devastating telling them we weren’t coming home yet. Then the thoughts of never bringing Crosby home crept in and I couldn’t stop crying. I needed my kids, and sleep, but that I night I wouldn’t have either. Chris left to be with the big kids and I turned on some movie with J-Lo.
I was wearing a pad the length of my arm. My “bed” sheets kept slipping off the back of the second, squeaky chair. I was expected to log all feeds (which was incredibly difficult because once fed, Crosby would sleep on me and I was afraid that moving would wake him). Nurses were in and out of the room every two hours doing vital checks. IV antibiotics were administered every 8 hours which meant a 2AM beep and flush. I should’ve been drinking more water. All this to say, when the lactation consultant showed up in the morning, I was miserable to her. She wanted to weigh Crosby before and after a feeding and I yelled at her to get out. It was his infection that was making him lose weight, not my breast production. I was an emotional wreck and the jack hammering continued through morning rounds.
When the doctor came in, she saw that I was distressed. She was super comforting and reassured me that Crosby was getting better and stronger. She agreed that his swelling was lessening and that he was responding well to the treatment. Chris came in during her examination and we both exhaled when she told us that we would be discharged before noon. A nurse explained to us the schedule of his medicine and how much to give him. She told us that it would be most pleasant for Crosby if we gave him the medicine with him sitting up for 15 minutes. We were instructed to go to the pediatrician the next day for another weight check and exam. Before we left, I gave the nurse our left over meal cards for another family to use during their stay.
The pediatrician told us that because of the trauma to the umbilical cord site, Crosby could have a herniated belly button. If he does, he could need surgery before he turns five to correct it.
I desperately wish I could “re-do” Crosby’s first week in this world. We will never know how Crosby got an infected umbilical cord; could’ve been a nurse, the aide who bathed him, the doctor who circumcised him, even me.
Mothering Millie 