Yes, that's right, I'm doing a virtual Snoopy dance in celebration of my daughter's tiny little recovering brain. Mock away, invisible readers, but even the middle-aged, Southern-gentleman attending physician was doing a jig over this news. Finally, after a whole day of being reminded about it, we can once again forget about her hemmorhage! Only in a good way, not because more pressing concerns have bumped it to the back burner.
But wait, there's more! They've successfully begun to wean her off the nitric oxide AND they were able to bring down one of the vent settings very slightly. Her oxygen was in the 60s and low 70s all day, with high sats (= happy baby with lots of O2 in her blood).
Jane still has a long way to go with her lungs, but dude. This is good.
In celebration of that, here's an embarassing mom moment for your enjoyment. There's this woman on the staff who is sort of a parent relations coordinator something or other (no, that is not her actual title). Anyway, she's sponsored by the March of Dimes and has weekly or so gatherings for ICN parents where they've done things like learn infant massage or Reiki or make scrapbook pages and mini photo albums. Things like that. She kind of guilted me into coming: "Hi, I don't know if you remember me, I saw you when Jane first came in, we haven't really had a chance to talk and I've noticed you've never attended one of our events, and there's no pressure to come, it's not like I take attendance, but you might find this fun and relaxing and I REALLY hope we see you there." Oh, geez. Fine, I'll go, but I'm going to be curmudgeonly about it.
We made shirts. Be kind.
Sarah's "shirt" is going to become a nightgown. It would fit me, even in my bulgy post-partum state. Thank god she's three, she actually is excited about this thing, and may very well wear it until she's ready for college. It's THAT big.
Not a bad day, eh?