Palate Repair (sigh)

In all honesty, I am thankful for Gunnar's cleft palate.  The obstacles we met provided us an opportunity for growth that I had not imagined. In fact, I am convinced that adversity is just that - an opportunity to show strength of character, trust in God, and love for one another.  Gunnar's arrival brought our family to Christ and has strengthened the bonds of our marriage.  We are better people now, than we have ever been. It's funny, I thought my world was coming to an end the first 8 weeks to 4 months of his life and in a way, it was true.  My world, as I knew and cherished it, was coming to an end; but in its place an improved universe was unfolding.

A cleft soft palate is not repaired until the babe is 10 to 15 months old, specifically depending on the child's health and your surgeon's preferences.  This makes for a LONG year, as you nervously await the day.  We were trying our darnedest to be trusting and patient, but our humanity got the best of us and we were nervous, temperamental idiots by the time late July arrived.  We had been told by a number of doctors, nurses, & occupational therapists to prepare for "absolute hell" in recovery and my over active imagination went to work! I asked for A LOT of prayer as we prepared and everybody ponied up and prayed like the dickens.

We loaded up and went to Seattle Children's Hospital on July 30. The pre-op appointments that day were low key but thorough.  It was also Eric's birthday.  His parents traveled to Seattle with the girls and they took us out to an excellent meal.  The stress levels were fairly high and so we took ourselves to bed... that is, after I gave Gunnar a hibicleanse bath.  That stuff stinks and is radioactive red, but I was not deviating from doctor's orders!

We awoke early and arrived at the surgical center by 7:00, with surgery scheduled for 9:00.  They checked us in, tagged Gunnar with the necessary bracelets/anklets, and then we began waiting.

Upon arriving in the pre-op room and dressing him in an itsy-bitsy hospital gown, he started freaking out.  He was really hungry and had begun to get a sense of the foreignness and foreboding of the place and certainly the vibe from mom and dad wasn't helping.

He screamed bloody murder and threw himself about until the anesthesiologist showed up and took him from my arms and down the hall. You'd think that would be the worst part, right? Watching some stranger cart your child down an unknown passage to a pretty rigorous surgical procedure... Oddly, as soon as he was out of my hands, both Eric and I had a Spirit given sense of calm and composure.  We felt that everything would be well. It had to be the prayers.

The surgery went really, really well. In fact, Dr. Sie arrived smiling. She told us that he had ample tissue and the repair went marvelously.  We got to have him back a couple hours later; they kept him in the immediate recovery room, very closely monitored while he came to.  He was swollen looking and groggy, but otherwise seemed alright.

 We just held him a lot.  He was whiney and obviously pained.  He slept much more than I thought he would for the first 18 hours post op.

 Look at the hospital crib... redefines baby jail.  He hated it. In fact, when he came to he began to be super pesky.  Wanting to get down and crawl all over. Wiggling this way and that.  He kept ripping off the vitals monitors and eventually tore his IV from his hand, with his gums.  Gunnar was not a fan of hospital recovery.

Aunty Staci dropped in...

Although he had not eaten enough and we were worried about dehydration, they decided to release us Wednesday early afternoon.  Which was really much earlier than anticipated, but he was tearing the place apart.

 We bathed him, got him to eat a little vanilla pudding, and off we went.  But first, some photos of Aunty Staci entertaining the girls...

We loaded him up on the Tylenol and Oxycodone and got in the car.  Trudi and Bob, took the girls for a couple days at their house so we could settle in.  THANK YOU! The first 24 hours at home was the roughest part.  He was CRAZY grumpy and refusing to take on any liquids or food and teething and hadn't pooped.  Clearly, he was in pain but the oxy was giving him trouble. We ended up having to force feed him water & breastmilk via syringe an ounce at a time, as he began to dehydrate.  We skipped a dose of Oxy, got him to eat an egg yolk, kept forcing liquids, and he pooped. Things started to get better.  He began eating and everyday was easier than the previous.  Below is a photo of him a mere 2 weeks after!

Ultimately, it wasn't that bad. He now functions as someone who is born with a completely fused palate. I quit pumping 2 weeks after his first birthday, hooray!!!  

We did not just survive, we thrived.