Tales From the NICU

 After they were born, the triplets were put into their own little isolette’s in the NICU.

Vivienne and Kian shared an area and Kai was right across the walkway. It was observed on many occasions, that when one would cry, the others would answer. 

That was just the beginning.

Once testing began, if one baby seemed to be getting “Special” treatment, then the other baby’s would find ways to mimic their symptoms so that they would also get special treatment as well.

This behavior held true and seemed more predominant with the boys than with Baby Vivienne because she was always babied more than they were and received FAR more attention from literally everybody else's nursies including their own.

When Kian started looking a little yellow, he managed to blow his I.V. and they had to put it in the vein in his head. 

This meant that he ended up with a huge gauze hat looking contraption that sort of resembled a dunce cap.

This ALSO meant that he also got to sun himself under the jaundice lamp for a day much like a trip to the tanning bed, which meant he got to wear these really cool shades (they looked like tiny baby sunglasses made of foam that were sticky-taped to his head.)

WELL then, the very next day, wouldn't ya know it, Kai, as not to be out-done by his brother, decided that he, too, wanted a very spiffy hat and shades.

Sure enough, when I came in for the morning after "Lock-out time" had ended (ie shift change) he had the EXACT same set up as his brother.

Kian only had to have his for a day. Kai, on the other had, ended his treatment a day afterward, BUT refused to let anyone remove his uber-cool-dude shades.

He fought everyone and anyone who tried to wash his face and remove those shades. 

This meant that Kai wore those spiffy shades for nearly three whole days before the sticky-tape finally became un-sticky and the foam shades finally fell off.

He was so ornery and outright MAD over this, that the nurse finally gave up on the sticky-tape removal and had my husband try and do it. We took a bunch of pictures of him because he was so very proud of himself.

We would discover that the boys had sibling rivalry down to an art form. Soon, the boys were sharing a bed which would lead to fighting. Kai would steal Kian’s pacifier and toss it down into the well of the isolette where NEITHER of them could reach it.

Kian would wrap up in Kai’s wubby (a half blanket/half doll that was used to put over their heads like a tent to keep their heads warm and shade them from the bright lights of the NICU.) 

This would inspire them both to slap at each other much like “Laverne and Shirley” or rather "Larry, Moe & Curly" from The Three Stooges would do.

Then somebody thought it would be cute and sweet & helpful if both were co-bedded with their sister for the first time since birth thinking a reunion would be most welcome.

That was when they figured out that, although they got bottles and sister didn’t, she was getting something that they were not-MEDICINE-and it looked and smelled super sweet and yummy.

It only took them a few days of sleeping with their heads on her chest to mimic what it was that they believed won her all the extras.

Kian was the first to get the “Royal” treatment. Apparently, Kai believed (or rather his brother had told him stories) that his brother was escorted from their bed in his very own little bed with wheels full of fresh-out-of-the-dryer warm blankies down to a place where he was given an extra-special bottle to drink over & beyond their regularly scheduled ones and then they took pictures of him because he was so cute and handsome and debonair.

So the very next day, Kai came down mysteriously with similar symptoms and was also escorted with the same fan-fare to that special portrait room where it was reported later that the techs found him extremely cute and funny and had played with him for quite some time.

It would seem that he basically sang for his supper down there and felt that he had to earn that extra bottle which he drank with such gusto that he didn’t even notice that it was full of barium until he started feeling funny.

He had taken it all in so very fast that it came back up even faster, much to the chagrin of the techs. Yep, he spewed EVERYWHERE like a regular fountain...more likened to the force of a fire hose actually...

Apparently NOBODY ever gets sick on their table….except Kai, and he had done it so very well.

All's well that ends well of course...So everyone ended up with the same formula and the SAME special medicine. And all seemed peaceful, for a time.

Originally published THURSDAY, MAY 10, 2007

Originally published THURSDAY, MAY 10, 2007 BY MIMI RANKIN WEBB

HTTP://MIMIRANKINWEBB.BRANDYOURSELF.COM/

Oh the Things People Say and Do!

 As a triplet mom, I hear all sorts of things being said both to us as a family and about us as we go about our daily lives. People always are surprised to see me out shopping with my baby’s or going to the doctor by ourselves.

I know we must be quite a site to see. Our stroller seats three, one behind the other and has foot rests for each baby. It is very, very long. So long, that I call it our limo.

It doesn’t drive well for a stroller; however strollers rarely do drive well. Complete with our diaper bag and bottle bags for three and my purse and adorned with three sippy cups hung over the sides of each compartment, we must appear quite a site.

We stop traffic, that’s for certain. Whether it is grocery shopping at Brookshire’s for our 97 cans of formula or shopping at Sam’s for our case of diapers and wipes, you can be assured of seeing quite a spectacle when I push that limo sized stroller loaded full of baby’s and pull that shopping cart.

People react in many different ways. Some just stare at us, while others will talk about us as if we can’t hear them. Then there are those who will stop us and ask questions. I don’t mind talking to people about my baby’s. It doesn’t bother me if they are pleasant and kind.

Some people ask about the baby’s names. Other’s ask their birth weight, or if I was on fertility when they were conceived, and the usual “How old are they” and “How much did they weigh when they were born?”

I don’t mind the general questions, but the fertility question is really much too personal and really border-line rude. It’s almost like asking if a man is that baby’s father or if that baby is adopted.

Then there are the people who just make comments. I like to think that they are just awkward and don’t know what to say. I really hope that’s the case. These types of people say things like, “Better you than me,” or “Triplets?”

Then there is,”I’m sorry.” I can tell you right off that I am not sorry in the least. These are my children, folks, not lesions caused by a plague, and let me tell you, it is NOT catchy!

Another thing people will say is, “You’re hands must be full.” To this, I always reply, “Very happily full!” Then there is the old, “You must have a lot of help.” Actually, I don’t, something that appears to shock most people, including other mother’s who have multiples.

I always figured that I didn’t deserve my triplets if I couldn’t take care of them myself. I would like to be one of those moms that you see out with their mothers or mother-in-law, however I am just not that mom.  It simply was never in the cards for me and I'm good with that.

You see, my mother died the month before my 12 year old was born and both of my grandmothers died the very next year. My mother-in-law died when Bregon was three. I did have a sort of step-mother-in-law for lack of a better term, however, she lived 45 minutes away and had many, many other grandchildren of her own that she ALSO must be grandmumsy to.

Ultimately, she, too, ended up leaving long before my children turned 4 and they barely even remember her save for the one time she came to take us all for dinner several years ago.

I don’t mind not having help, but it does sadden me when people assume that I must have some.  OR they actually look at me as if there is something wrong with me for doing this all by myself. I like to think or rather hope that they mean well, but sometimes I get the idea that they do not.

It’s really hard to stop and be nice to all of these people and still remember what it is that I was out to buy in the first place, or where it was exactly that I was headed to before they stopped me. I do try very hard to be pleasant and smile and at least try and answer some of their questions as nicely as I can muster, even though it’s most difficult when the children are sad, hungry, or crying and need my attention.

It seems that someone almost always wants to talk when I need to be helping my babies. The strangest person I have come across while shopping actually sped up her walking in the grocery store to physically block me from turning down an aisle that I was in the process of heading down.

This lady literally swung her cart around and blocked the end of the aisle with her buggy and jumped in front of it, heels clicking on the floor and all, just to stop me and strike up a conversation about my triplets as if they were THE MOST interesting  infants she had ever laid eyes on.

I was just as surprised as the ladies who had also been trying to exit that particular aisle and who found themselves also being blocked by the very same person! She actually said that she figured I wouldn’t talk to her if she didn’t block me like that.

I told her that in the future it would be pleasant perhaps if she were to try giving me the benefit of the doubt.

I get all sorts of strange reactions from people while out and about. I try to learn from what they say and do, though. I really have learned to stop and think before I say something to  another Mom  about her newborn or baby.

I know that while I may mean well, ya just never know how what I say may be taken and I would HATE for a fellow Mom to misunderstand and not take something the way that it was meant!

After all:  we're THE MOMMIES and we are ALL In this together!!!

Originally published TUESDAY, MAY 8, 2007 BY MIMI RANKIN WEBB

HTTP://MIMIRANKINWEBB.BRANDYOURSELF.COM/