At 4pm I woke up to some nervous faces, a few nurses were in Jane’s room working frantically. A few nurses turned into a dozen doctors & nurses very fast, and we were soon at rock-bottom, with Jane at rock-bottom.
A few minutes prior (while I was sleeping), Elisabeth was watching the nurse suction out Jane’s mouth and reposition Jane’s cute little swollen little 4lb body, which helps getting rid of the fluids. Swelling in infants is bad. What happened next nobody will ever know, but the doctors believe that 1) Jane’s breathing tube got slightly removed, or 2) Jane’s breathing tube got plugged by something, maybe secretion.
Since Jane is extremely sensitive, any little problem can turn catastrophic. We got to watch Jane’s heart rate drop, then drop more, and more, and more, until it couldn’t drop any more–she had no pulse. Jane’s heart stopped pumping. Elisabeth looked at me and said, “that’s it”.
With Elisabeth in my arms, I reminded her that Jane is our miracle baby; God has more in His plans for our baby.
We were both numb from it all, our emotions can only take so much. We’ve experienced horrible events like this several times over the past 5 weeks, but never THIS BAD. We both stood there in awe, not believing what was happening, we weren’t even crying. Just 1 week ago I watched and listened to a crying mother slowly lose her son in the room next door to us– deja-vu.
Shortly after, her heart again started to beat on its own, while the doctors kept with the CPR and manually injected oxygen into her lungs. Her heart rate hovered in the low 20′s for about 20 minutes. They weren’t able to get her heart rate up, no matter what they tried. By Epinephrine (adrenaline) dose #5, there’s just no reason to think that a 6th dose will get her heart beating faster. For babies, if by 2 or so doses the heart hasn’t responded, any more doses have historically shown to not be of any more benefit. The head doctor told us she’s probably not going to recover. So we’re still just as numb as can be. Elisabeth just asked him to get back to work, don’t give up. He came to the point twice just asking out loud, “Does anybody have any ideas?!” Shortly after his 2nd plea, the doctor told us to bring in our family and say our last good-byes to Jane. We didn’t know what to think. “Not now” is all we knew. Since she did have a pulse, though small, we felt encouraged that it can possibly go up. So we asked him if he’s sure she won’t recover. He said he’s sure. I said 100% sure? Then he clearly stated, “I’m 100% sure that she will not recover from this, her heart hasn’t responded to the “epi”, and it won’t now.” And he mentioned that he doesn’t want to keep doing CPR and make her suffer more from the constant compressions. We decided to tell him to not to worry about us, and just get back to work.
Not 2 minutes passed, and her heart rate went up to 27, then back to 23, and bounced back and forth. Then it went all the way up to 35, then 37, 45, and stayed around there. We were getting excited, still scared as can be, because Jane can’t sustain life at 45 bpm, needing CPR forever. Then it went to 50, 70, 90, and hung around the 90′s for a few minutes.
Elisabeth prayed with Luba earlier today, telling God that today is the day for a miracle. She had no idea that she was speaking the truth.
100, 120, and comfortably at 130 the rest of the day, a normal rate for infants.
Jane decided that she wasn’t ready to die.
There’s more details, but I’m done thinking for the night. Over the next 48 hours, the main concern is to reduce possibility of brain damage as a result of today’s event. They’re also very concerned with her other organs, since she went so long with very little blood throughout her body, assuming that for-sure there IS damage, they just need time to see the extent. We disagree with them.
Without getting in to too much details today because we’re so exhausted, we do give glory to God, for coming through in the last minute. Sometimes He seems like a procrastinator.