Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome

I thought it was over.  I thought that as the doors to the NICU swished closed behind us for the final time and Jimmy and I, giddy with excitement and trepidation, wheeled Hazel Grace down the hall tucked safely in her carseat for her first car ride home, I thought that I was turning the page...

I thought that I could look back, wipe my brow, and say, 'Whew!  Well, we made it through that one!' and move on to the next chapter in the book of our life with our baby.

And it's not like we have had to go back to the NICU.  Praise God we have been so far spared that trip, but we have had to go back to the hospital for check up appointments and routine exams.

Getting ready for our first trip out of the house and to our first follow-up appointment was a bit of a challenge.  I had made a list and checked all the items off:

Spare clothes?  Check
Diapers? Check
Feed pump?  Check
Spare extension tube?  Check
Emergency MIC-KEY button?  Check
Oxygen tank?  Check
Water for flushing...syringes for flushing and meds...feeding bag?  Check, check, check.

I think I'm ready.

And I was.  There was nothing that we needed that we didn't have on that first trip back to the place where it all started.

But what I was not prepared for, what I had forgotten to fully prepare, was myself.

I'm not even sure that there is a way to prepare for it:  Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

I know it sounds silly.  I was in the NICU, for Pete's sake, not a war zone, and there were no bombs dropping and no sirens blaring...

or were there?

As I headed down the hall toward the clinic where Hazel had her appointment, I passed by one of the elevators that is reserved for staff and patients.  At just the moment that I was passing, I heard the soft ding and the doors slid open, and there it was

an isolette

with a baby inside.

My stomach dropped to my knees which were feeling weak, and my hands got a death grip on the handle of the stroller where Hazel lay sleeping peacefully.  I peered past my white knuckles to instinctively check the tiny bundle inside the stroller.  Is she breathing?  Is she blue? How is she saturating?  Panic began to rise and along with it my breakfast, but my throat was so tight that nothing would have made it past it anyway.  The nurse peered at me.  'Are you ok?'

'Yes' I choked out and reminded myself to breathe and forced my feet to continue walking down the long hall that now looked too bright, was too noisy and was altogether way too long.  I realized that I could leave the NICU, but the NICU would never leave me.

I know that Hazel Grace feels it, too.

We have a bottle of the same hand sanitizer that the nurses at the hospital use, and for the longest time after she got home, when we would use the sanitizer and then approach her, she would tense and cry.  The memories too fresh for the gentle tones of our voices to overcome the fear of the unknown.  Or I guess I should say the fear of the known...the blood draws, the pokes and prods, the rough hands of strangers...the scent brought it all back.

She seems to be over that now.  She doesn't seem to mind at all that we approach her after using the lotion, but there are still signs of her recall of the time she spent in the NICU.  We got her one of those bouncy seats, you know the ones that have the vibrator in them that the babies just seem to love?  The first time we put her in it, to give her another view of the world, we switched it on, and a look of pure panic and terror came over her tiny face.  Her eyes flew open and her back arched, arms splayed, legs tense, and she started to cry.  A deep, heartfelt cry.  A cry of pain and fear and complete terror.

We immediately turned the vibrator off and took her out to comfort her, and it took a while for her breathing to return to normal and her heart rate to slow down.  What we realized was that the vibrating must have reminded her of all the time that she was intubated in the hospital.   The machine that breathed for her through a tube down her throat vibrated her bed very strongly such that you could feel the vibrations through the whole isolette.  It must have felt very similar to the vibrations of the seat.

We still put her in the seat, but we have taken out the batteries so no one can accidentally turn it on, and she lies there peacefully, looking up at us with a look of trust and dependence.

And I know that I will do all that I can to protect her from ever having to experience anything like what she had to go through the first 5 months of her life.

It is over,

But it's not.

It has deeply affected our family in ways that I am sure will continue to surface long after the whole ordeal is 'over.'

And in the meantime, we do what we can to protect and support one another, trying to keep in mind the raw and tender nerves and emotions that sit just beneath the surface of all that appears well and good,

And as I stroll down the halls of that big hospital where Hazel's life was saved and our lives were torn apart, revised, and thrown back at us in disarray,

And as the elevator doors ding and the wheels of the isolettes whisper their sticky swishing sound as they make their way down the hall in the opposite direction, going in  where we so recently came out,

Instead of turning my eyes down in panic and uncertainty, I will turn my eyes up.

I will turn them up toward the twinkling blue ceilings of that impressive hospital, and I will breathe the prayer that I have sighed so many times both over my baby going out, and that baby going in:

Numbers 6:24-26
The Lord bless you and keep you
The Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious unto you;
The Lord lift His countenance upon you, and give you peace. (Italic emphasis mine)

Because I can't take away what has happened to us, and I can't stop what will happen to them,

All I can do is turn it over to God and pray peace over all of us.

And as my eyes burn and the tear threatens to fall over what has happened and what is to come, I know that His peace is enough.

Getting Beyond Survival

In an effort to take one of those poignant pictures of the books on the old oak table with the steaming mug beside them that makes you want to just jump in there, grab whatever afghan the person who just took the picture just got done knitting and snuggle into it, wrap your hands around the mug of tea that they brewed from herbs they grew in their garden and sit in the chair that their husband just reupholstered and watch their 12 very well behaved children doing puzzles and reading to the dog while basking in the heat of the fireplace,

I had to move a pile of dirty dishes off the table, brush crumbs onto the floor because the Cheerios hiding out under the chairs were lonely, move the scraps from Gabriel's latest cutting project to the recycling bin, shift Piglet and his Uno cards to the side, find my books, take a swig of lukewarm Mother's Milk tea, and finally take a shot.

And I can still see crumbs.

But whatever.

There they are.  The books that I'm reading.  Perhaps an interesting conglomeration of books, but let me explain.

I loosely follow Crystal Paine's blog Money Saving Mom, and one day, as I sifted through the posts about the women gathering coupons, scouring ads and visiting various stores so that they can live on a grocery budget of $50 a month, the title  'Say Goodbye to Survival Mode' jumped out at me and I knew that I had to have this book.

I want to say goodbye to survival mode.  It's driving me crazy!  It's kind of a joke around, but not one that's really funny, that goes something like this:

Jimmy (or Elizabeth):  So, what's the plan for today?
Me:  Survival.

Both of us turn toward each other and kind of chuckle, but for some reason we can't really meet each other's eyes.  Because we know it's true.  That's all it is:

Survival.

And I am tired of it!


My mother always says 'The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.'

Which is true...

But that means that if we (me, Jimmy and Elizabeth) want something to change around here, if we want to get beyond survival mode, and move on to enjoying life, we are going to have to...gasp...change!


The second book in my stack is Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis.  Her story is incredible, and one that I always dreamed would be my own...one day.  But I realized that 'one day' will never come if I don't get ahold of my 'today', which leads me back to removing myself from survival gear, and takes me to the third book which is The Books of the Bible:  New Testament, and is the book that our church is using to read through the New Testament as a community.  (If you would like to join us, please do and let me know and post a picture of yourself reading on the Downtown Baptist facebook page (or not, and just read the book, although I would really like to know if you are doing it with us...)

You see, the thing is I realized that in the past, I had opportunities to be a 'Katie', but I was not standing in the center of God's will, so either I didn't see my opportunity, or it 'fell through' because it would not have been the best thing for me nor for the people I would have been sent to serve.  And now, I feel that I am so entrenched in my own world, in my own issues, that I can barely get out of survival mode, let alone be a 'Katie' to anyone else.

And so, in the next few weeks, I plan to do 3 things:
1.  Pray for Katie and her work in Uganda in a purposeful way
2.  Read through the New Testament with Elizabeth and explore what God has to say to us, and
3.  Work through Say Goodbye to Survival Mode with Elizabeth and Jimmy so that Jimmy and I can become stronger, more effective parents and partners, and Elizabeth can learn some good strategies for organizing her thoughts, priorities and goals.

In the meantime, I will tell you that I did submit a piece of my work to a company that is looking for someone to write for them, but I have not heard back from them, so I am assuming that I didn't get the job.  It was just some place on craigslist that I submitted to on a whim, so I don't even have a phone number or anything to follow up with them, but it was kind of fun, and it made me think that I may want to try again somewhere else.  Getting a small income on the side would be a part of saying goodbye to survival mode,

So, follow along with me here as our engines cough and sputter and hopefully roar into life to carry us on to the next chapter!

Our Friend MIC-KEY (Not the Mouse!)

Because I know that you are all dying to know, and because I personally think that it's pretty fascinating, I wanted to give you all a quick tutorial on Hazel's MIC-KEY button.

First, I want to start out by saying that I do not know why it is called a MIC-KEY button, but I do know that there are other types of G-tubes out there, like the PEG, but the MIC-KEY is the one that Children's uses, and I have heard that it is 'better' then some of the others and easier to use.  One of the differences that I have seen is the the MIC-KEY sits pretty flat on Hazel's tummy and the tube comes out the side whereas I think that the tube for the PEG comes straight out.

Next, I want to assure you that I am not a doctor.  Or a nurse.  Or anyone having anything to do with anything medical in any professional way.  The only reason I know anything about any of this is through experience, asking questions (did I tell you that while Hazel was in the hospital Jimmy and I took this great marriage course in our church and when he was asked to write down my hobbies, he wrote 'asking questions' as one of them?  Well, he did, and I do) and reading...a lot.  Preemie book?  The one that said 'don't read this book cover to cover because it will worry you too much'?  Yeah.  I devoured that one.  That being said, anything that I say here, or anywhere actually, should never be taken as medical advice, and feel free to correct me (nicely, please!) or add to anything that I say.

Anyway, here we go:

G-tube stands for gastrostomy feeding tube, with 'gastro' indicating something having to do with the stomach, and 'stoma' meaning 'hole', so we have a tube that passes feed through a hole into the stomach.


In the pictures below, you can see a diagram of the basis of the button itself and the extension kit.  The 'balloon' looking part that is what goes on the inside of Hazel's stomach.  A tube starts right at the end of the balloon, passing through it, passing through Hazel's abdominal wall and ends with the 'button' that sits right on her skin.  The flap in the picture that is down and to the right is what closes the hole when there is no extension tube connected to it so that her stomach contents don't come out, and the little pointer looking thing pointing up and to the left is where you connect a syringe to inflate or deflate the balloon, in our case with water, that is on the inside.  The purpose of the balloon is to hold the tube and button in place both so that it doesn't come out, and so that it stays snug against the skin and doesn't leak.

This picture below is the packaging for Hazel's 'emergency' tube.  It is sterile and ready to be used in case hers comes out.  So far, we have not needed this, and I am hoping to never, ever need this.  Even though the tissue that forms the hole where the tube passes through heals much like a hole for an earring while the tube is in, it is not like an earring in that if the tube comes out, it will heal very quickly, beginning to close in a matter or 30 minutes or so, and being impassable in about 24 hours.  This is a good thing if you remove the tube because you no longer need it, but a not so good thing if it is pulled out accidentally.   This package also shows the size of the tube that Hazel has.  It is has a diameter labeled at '12 French', which I don't know why it is French, nor what that unit of measuring is, but the other size is 1cm, which indicates the length of the tube between the top of the balloon and the bottom of the button.  Which means that Hazel's abdominal wall is 1cm thick.  Now, you may think 'how can that be?  The stomach does not lie that close to the skin, so how can the tube be only 1cm long?'  Ahhh...good question!  And one that has an answer that then greatly affects the way that we are able to feed Hazel.  You see, when Hazel had her surgery, they did the surgery laproscopically by making a cut in her belly button and another in her abdomen where the button would go.  Then they pulled her stomach out to the edge of her abdominal wall and passed the tube through the hole that they made there and inflated the balloon.  That is why if the tube came out in the first 2 weeks or so, she would have needed surgery to put it back.  The stomach would have gone back to its original location in the abdominal cavity.  Now, however, the stomach is more permanently connected to the abdominal wall by the tissue that forms the hole where the tube passes.

So, how does this affect how Hazel eats?  Well, imagine that you have a tiny tummy with an opening at the top where the food goes in when it comes through the mouth.  There is a flap covering that hole that is supposed to let stuff in, but not out.  In a preemie, and many term babies, too, for that matter, that flap is very underdeveloped and immature, and so it is floppy and doesn't close well.  Now, take that tiny tummy and stretch it way off to the side and imagine what happens to the opening at the top.  Right.  It's stretched, too, which means that the floppy flap is even less effective at keeping food where it belongs in the stomach.  Add to that the extra space that the balloon is taking up in that tiny tummy, and you can imagine that we have quite the compromised stomach capacity.  That is why Hazel has a hard time nursing.  While nursing, the milk flow is fast and fills her tummy faster than she can handle it.  That is why when we hang her feeds, we have to run them over an hour, which is much longer than an average baby would usually nurse.

This is a close up of the end of the extension kit.  This is the end that we attach the feed pump to.  The white clip is a clamp that we use to clamp off the tube when it's not in use.  If you don't clamp it, then if you open one of the ports, and Hazel has anything in her stomach and she cries or kicks her feet or tightens her abdomen in any way, the contents of her stomach will come out the open port.  This can be good, if you are trying to get gas out of her tummy (she did not get a NISSIN, by the way, so she is able to burp, in case you are wondering.  A NISSIN is a procedure that tightens the top of the stomach to help control reflux but makes you not be able to burp or throw up).  If she is very gassy and can't bring up a burp, we have a very large syringe, that we take the plunger out of and attach to the open port so that her stomach contents can bubble up and with them, the gas.  When she calms again, gravity takes the contents back into her stomach.  But in any other case, you pretty much want to let what goes in, stay in.

This is the other end of the extension kit.  It snaps into the button on Hazel's tummy and locks into place (hence the 'key' part of the name?  Don't know...)

The milk that I pump is hung in this bag...

...and run through this pump.

Of course, you have to get the air out of the tubing before you can start the feed, so you can either use the 'prime' button on the machine, if you happen to have all day to wait for it, or you can squeeze the blue part of the tube where the little symbol of a drop of water is, squeeze the bag at the same time, and hope you don't squirt milk on the cat.  Just sayin'.  Things happen.

Then, the end of the tube from the feeding bag that has passed through the feeding machine is connected into the feed port of the extension kit like so,

 the machine is programmed, and off we go!

The smaller port is where we put the medication in.

So, looking for the sliver lining in this whole thing, we have two very nice benefits that come from having a G-tube.  One is that we never have to give Hazel her meds by mouth, we just push them through her tube, which is very handy when she has 4 oral meds she takes twice a day, and two, in the middle of the night, she just fusses a bit when she's hungry, and I have gotten quite adept at setting up her feeds quickly, and we both just fall asleep while they run and let the machine cut off when it's done.

Until, of course, she kicks her feet and happens to accidentally open the med port of a defective tube and we end up with a sopping wet mess of milk and stomach contents in her bed, but that doesn't happen often, thank goodness, and I have learned my lesson and I make sure to keep the tube up high and wrapped in a blanket so she can't kick at it.

And there you have it. That's how those cheeks have gotten so chubby!

An Almost 10 Pound Thank You Miracle

One pound, 7 ounces, 652 grams.

That's what Hazel Grace weighed when she entered this world on August 1st, 2013.  A soaking wet, bleating little 11' handful that was whisked away from us before her scent had even settled on our skin.

And now, that tiny waif of a soul, that barely-there child, a heart just a beat away from heaven and lungs that could not even support the body that fit in a palm,

that girl-child of ours weighs almost 10 pounds.

Six months later, after that fateful day in August, I hold Hazel Grace in my arms, and she sits heavy on my chest, no longer able to tuck into the hollow of my collar bone like she did that day so long ago in the NICU at INOVA Alexandria Hospital, the very first time that I held her.

She's actually kind of...chubby!

Little baby legs filling out and gathering rolls of baby fat, the second chin hiding her neck that becomes more sturdy every day, round tummy, smooth arms waving...

chubby.

And I see it for what it is:

A miracle.

Someone close to me recently said that they don't believe in miracles anymore.  That they used to be wide-eyed and believing like I am, but that now they are sour on the whole thing and that miracles just don't happen.  'But what about Hazel Grace?' I say.  'She is a miracle.  How can you not see a miracle in her?'

'But she's your miracle,' was the response that came.  'She's yours, not mine.'

But that's just not true!  Hazel Grace is our miracle, to be sure, but she's not only our miracle!  She is a miracle for all of us.  For all of you out there reading this who have cared about our sweet baby and prayed over her and our family, she is your miracle, too.

There is no possible way that I can personally thank everyone who has prayed over us, lent a helping hand or a listening ear, blessed us with gifts of time, money or much needed equipment and goodies for Hazel Grace, or just been there when things got really tough,

but please don't think that it has gone unnoticed.

Every gift, every prayer, every kind word or helping hand has been tucked away in my heart and in the heart of this family.

You have made this possible, and Hazel Grace is your miracle just as much as she ours.

So breathe it in, the milky fragrance of the miracle of a sweet baby,

And sigh it out with a word of thanks to our Heavenly Father who is the One who made any of this even possible.

And it is with sincerest thanks, and a promise to do better at keeping everyone updated, I present to you

Hazel Grace.  The micro-preemie who's not so 'micro' anymore.

Ignorance is Bliss?

Hazel had an appointment with a cardiologist earlier this week.

I figured that it was just a follow up appointment due to the fact that Hazel is a preemie.  I had kind of wondered why they sent her home with a heart rate and breathing monitor since as far as I had been told, she had never had any apnea nor brady episodes (where her breathing and/or heart rate slow to unsafe tempos).  Her biggest issue had always been that her blood would desaturate due to her chronic lung disease, but they didn't send her home with a pulse/ox monitor.  When I asked about it, I was told by the doctor that I was to watch her heart rate and breathing rate and if those slowed and if she showed clinical signs of desaturation, then I would know that she was desatting and take action.

But the clinical signs of desaturation are turning blue and what not,which doesn't happen until the condition is pretty bad, so I was not too confident in the process of monitoring what I understood to be her biggest problem.

I talked to my pediatrician, and she agreed that we should watch her saturation levels more closely and put Hazel on a pulse/ox monitor, too.  That also means that we can take her off the oxygen for a few hours a day to give her lungs a workout breathing on their own while still keeping a close eye on her O2 levels but that's another story.

Anyway, while I was a bit perplexed about the cardiologist appointment, as I said, I just assumed it was routine follow-up.

So, imagine my surprise when the doctor, whom I had never met before, asked me how Hazel was doing with her 'condition'.

Me:  Ummm....what condition?

Then came the question:

Do you know why you are here?

Me:  Ummmm....no.  But now I get the feeling that I should know why I am here...would you like to tell me why I am here with Hazel?

Doc:  Oh, so they didn't tell you?

Me:  No.  Tell me what?

Doc:  Oh.  Well.  Hazel has a hole between the two ventricles in her heart.  It's just a small one....they never told you about this?

Me:  No.

Doc, looking at the charts:  Well they did the echo on December 20th...oh, that's the day you got discharged!  Anyway, they found a small hole.  Let's just take a look, shall we?  I will explain after we see what's going on...

Me:  Why yes, I do believe we shall take a look, and then perhaps offer an explanation, oh, so many explanations...

Doc, peering at the screen where my sweet baby Hazel's heart twitches and pulses as she squirms in my arms in protest of the slimy goop smeared across her chest:  Ahhh...yes...there...here's another angle...let me see...Well!  Good!  It looks like it's all closed up.  No explanation needed!  Whew.

And I sat there, still thinking that there really did need to be some sort of explanation...like why was I not informed of the hole in my daughter's heart...

But as I clutched my tiny girl to my heart, wiping her chest of goop and her face of tears, buttoning her PJ's and straightening her tubes and attaching her leads...

I realized that what I must say is

Thank you, God.

Thank you for healing her heart.

And even though I was a bit put off and frustrated by yet another example of the lack of communication, I also sigh over my baby girl and say

Thank you, God.  Thank you for hiding this from me.  It was not life threatening, and there was nothing that I could do about it, and so I guess, in your infinite wisdom, you knew that this would be taken care of, and I just didn't need to know about it.

And in that ignorance, instead of worrying and stressing, I was able to sit and hold my baby, heart to heart, as she healed in ways that I will never need to understand, and together, we could just

breathe.

Frustrated

Right now, I am really frustrated.

Hazel's nose is stopped up so she hasn't been nursing at all, and so I have to pump and pump to keep up with what she is drinking.  And when I hang a feed, whatever is left in the bag has to be tossed but it is almost impossible to gauge it right because of priming the tubing sometimes takes more or less milk depending on if there are air bubbles in the tubes.  I am also not convinced that the moderator calculates correctly because sometimes it seems that I put in way too much or too little and it never seems to calculate for what I think that I have measured and put in.

Frustrating.

Also, our nurse that came on Friday is sick and can't come tomorrow, so we have yet another new nurse for tomorrow, but if our 'regular' is still sick on Tuesday, we will have yet another one til she gets  better.

I like our new nurse well enough, I guess.  I mean it didn't seem like there was instant chemistry or anything, but I'm not sure that it is possible to have that kind of thing in this kind of situation.  I mean, some stranger is coming into our very crazy house and trying to take care of Hazel with me looking over their shoulder all the time.

Also, one of my other children is exhibiting very disturbing behavior and I am worried.  I need to make an appointment for an evaluation, but when?  That's another thing that I must do tomorrow.

I am light years behind in schooling and I am supposed to start back up tomorrow, and you are looking at one unprepared homeschooling mom.

So then, why am I on here instead of over there in that corner getting myself ready for the onslaught tomorrow?

Because I'm burnt out.

The days are pushing together.  I don't really leave the house, and if I do leave the house, I have to take everyone with me.  That usually doesn't bother me, but this one child is driving me crazy!  From morning til night, it is constant whining, crying and fighting.  I am hoping that school will help, but then I am defeating myself by not preparing more than I already am.  I plan to just pick up where we left off in September when everything went to pot and came to a screeching halt.  Yes, I'm that far behind.

Well, except for Elizabeth.  She has been keeping up with her work for the most part.  But if she doesn't finish her science, she's not going to Kung Fu in January.  Oh, wait.  It is January and she's not done.  So I guess she's not going.  But she's out there playing some video game with Jimmy, so I guess she's not going to miss Kung Fu as much as I thought (hoped?) she would.  I hate nagging, but I can't seem to find the trigger that will make her just get this class done!

The days are about survival, the nights are about snatching snippets of sleep between feedings, and I'm about to crumble.  I haven't been to church in weeks, and I'm missing my life.  The one that was hard, but do-able.  I don't even know what this life that I have now is.  Everything is a juggle of people, time and space, and I feel that the lion's share of it is falling on my shoulders.

I am feeling weighed down and bent.

Maybe it's God waiting for me to hit my knees and finally look up again

and breathe Him in.

The Helper that Wasn't

Well, so our first skilled nurse turned out to not be what we really needed here with us.  It's all pretty sad, really, but it turned out that she had been cheating the company for a while, and it just so happened that I ended up asking the right questions of the right people, and her deception was discovered.

It's sad because I liked her as a person, and also because she said that she didn't really need the job, that her husband made the money for the family and she was just making extra 'fun' money, really, so it's not even like she was lying in an effort to make ends meet or because of financial hardship.

So why did she do it?

I guess I'll never know.

But, anyway, a new nurse started on Friday, and I hope she works out better than the last one, and that our family is a better fit for her.  The nurse we had before seemed to like the kids and the action here at the house, but I think that she was a bit overwhelmed by what Jimmy and I expected her to do with Hazel.

The nurses are here only for the good of Hazel.  They are not helpers for the house nor for the other kids.  They can if they want, but they don't have to do anything other than attend to Hazel and her needs.  But that meant that nurse #1 only sat on the couch, rocked Hazel's bassinet with her foot occasionally when she cried and hung her feeds and gave her her meds.

Well, I could do that.

What Jimmy and I are looking for is someone to hold and love on Hazel Grace to make up for all the lonely days and nights in the NICU.  Now, you could say that that is not part of the contract since it does not have to do with Hazel's medical well-being, but I would have to disagree.  To make up for the delays brought on by being a preemie, Hazel needs more attention and more interaction than a 'regular' baby does.  She also has to be both swaddled and let free to mimic the muscle tones and movements that she missed out on in utero by being born so early.  By being left on her back unswaddled for hours at a time is bad for her skeletal, muscle and cognitive development.  She must be able to and encouraged to bring her hands together in front of her to properly flex and stretch her muscles and frame as well as to be able to eventually 'discover' her hands.

Well, with nurse #1, this was not happening.  She was not familiar with nor did she know how to use the swaddle that we had which is the same as what is used in the hospital.

She also had issues with drawing up the correct dosage of Hazel's medicines.  She drew up a dose that was 5 times more than it should have been because she did not understand the label on the bottle.

That's kind of scary.

I mean, if she's been a nurse for years and years, and we are just now discovering that she does not know some of the basics of medications, breast milk and preemie care, then what has been happening to the other babies that she has cared for before Hazel Grace?

I guess I'm just trying to say what is said in books all over:

You have to be your own or your child's advocate in the medical world.  All because someone has a title or someone is employed by a company, that doesn't mean that they really know what they are doing nor that they have your best interest in mind.

I mean, what if I had gone along with the time sheet fraud like she asked me to?  She posed it in a reasonable way.  What she said about how she was paid and how 'the system' worked kind of made sense.  What if I had just trusted her without watching what she was doing or asking questions?  If the fraud had been discovered down the road by someone else, would we have been implicated since we are the ones who sign her papers every day?  And what would have happened had tiny Hazel gotten a dose of her meds that was 5x's what it should have been?  Would she have gotten sicker?  Would we have been able to trace it back to that incident or incidents to be able to know what happened to 'fix' it?

Anyway, hopefully this new nurse #2 will work out better.  I feel a little gun shy about the whole thing now.

I guess Hazel and I both need to work on just breathing through it all.