the other evening we arrived home from dinner and upon asking (more out of habit) how the kids were, our helper said, "sela is ill."
sela?
no mistake, sela was ill. had vomitted. all over. everything.
instant flashback to june, july, august, and september, when sela had TERRIBLE reflux and was vomitting everywhere. 2/7 feeds a day MINIMUM played deja vu.
it was so incredibly frustrating to feed her in those days. gently and patiently force feeding her 70mls over a 65 minute period, only to have her vomit up the entire contents of her stomach in 20 seconds. the smell of slighly sour formula in between my fingers, rings, in my hair, on my collar. permeating from the sofa and carpets.
we beat the reflux by giving the girls MYLANTA. it worked a treat. i was so convinced that vomitting was over that i bought new sofa covers.
mistake. sela had vomitted over two covers (she can still projectile, our girl!) and had even managed an obligatory splash on to her sheepskin blanket.
i cringed, remembering the smell and the frustration. remembered to be slightly thankful that at least i don’t have to worry about her vomitting up medication.
i left my inlaws in the living room and crawled into bed. i knew it was going to be a long night.
unfortunately, i was right.
sela’s unmistakable cries started at around 1.15. magnificent charles took care of her the first time round, he rubbed her tummy until she dropped off to sleep.
at 1.45 she was up again, and again magnificent took care of her. and got her back to sleep, i might add.
at 2.20am it was my turn and i walked into her room. she had a fever, and was giving her usual cry: a quick quiet intake of breath, a swift pause and then a raw bellow from the back of her throat.
but unlike most other times when sela cries, attention didn’t take care of her discord. her little limbs were shaking with pain?/fear?/anger? and although i could tell that she appreciated being held, being held alone couldn’t take care of her sorrow. (poor little poppet).
i could hear some weird noises coming from her tummy, but her nappy was clean. but she obviously had some pain. so i practiced the five S’s, which have always helped calm our babies:
swaddle – swaddling is comforting for distressed babeolas
shhhhhhh – make the shhhh sound…reminds them of the sounds they heard while in the uterus (this is not my theory, someone wrote a book on this)
swing – rock them back and forth
side – put the babies on their side, their tummy against yours
suck – offer them their thumb or a soother
it did work, but a sleep deprived woman can only swing for a certain amount of time before tiredness begs her to sit down. and whenever i did, within five minutes, sela’s little rosebud mouth would turn downwards and wahhhhhhhhh! the pained angry cry would begin again. second scenario, if her eyes were shut and her long lashes making patterns against her beautiful skin, within minutes of settling my weary bottom on to the sofa, her little eyes would pop open, and after the few seconds of disorientation, the recognition that she was in pain would hit, and then the cries would begin anew.
it was a fricking long night.
but it wasn’t so bad. unlike their NICU days and stays, i could hold sela throughout the night and throughout her pain, and i think it helped. as long and as tiring as that night was, it helped heal a lot of the sorrow and guilt that i have over the babies early birth and my inability to carry them into the third trimester.
i sang to her all our old NICU songs, wonderful tonight you already know is a favourite, show tunes from guys and dolls & hello dolly!, and a very sweet song known by most people, eidleweiss. yes, the corny song from the sound of music. children are no critics…she loved it.
the song always seemed appropriate to the NICU. i can remember getting up each morning, kissing sebastian goodbye (our friend libby had an excellent playgroup and had agreed to take sebastian on for four days a week), throwing my hair into a ponytail, grabbing some sweatpants and running to the hospital. i never wore makeup and never brushed my hair. walking quickly down the white corridors, getting clearance into the ward, and while signing in my name checking out the attendant to see if he was looking at me oddly, or was unwilling to meet my glance which could suggest that one of the babies wasn’t doing well…..
moving down the hallway, turning left at the second door, and bursting into the room, apprehensively yet swiftly moving from one isolette to another. triplet one, alive, triplet two alive, triplet three alive. knowing all three were alive i would exhale what felt like my first breath of the day and then get down to really examining their oxygen levels, heartrates and charts.
then i would start reading, praying, singing (even with my terrible voice, they didn’t mind), and talking to them. telling them what i had done the night before. who had called, who had emailed.
after the first couple of weeks, when the babies eyes were open, they all started acknowledging me. they would make the effort to turn their tiny tangerine sized heads toward me when i spoke. some times, when the babies were tired, had had a bad night, or when carys was really sick, i was discouraged from talking or standing too close, because it got the babies too "active". that was painful, i felt rejected and that my presence was harming them, but i always was thrilled that they knew i was there.
eidleweiss was a song i loved because it seemed so appropriate. there my wee three were, waiting for me in that pristine cheerless room every day, while i came to see them, hoping for a new sign, any indication that they were thriving. wondering what their faces looked like, if ever i would see them smile.
eidlewiess, eidleweiss
every morning you greet me
strong and white, clean and bright
you look happy to me
blossom of snow may you bloom and grow
bloom and grow forever
eidleweiss, eidleweiss
bless my homeland forever
have no idea of the importance of the last line, but at the time, it seemed to fit.
Reader interactions
6 Replies to “sela ballerina”
Tess, I’m certain that hearing that any child is sick when you walk through a door must be unnerving, and you’ve freely admitted (which I admire you for your truthfulness) that you have unresolved feelings about the triplets time in the NICU at the start of last year.
That being said, it sounds as if despite Sela being ill, that last night offered up a bit of therapeutic healing for both you and Sela. That is truly a gift. You both deserve a bit of healing. The five S’s sound made for this, and I’m so pleased you had that time with Sela to bond even simply a tad more.
Your sentiments about the triplets early arrival is heartbreaking. I hope that you are able to piece together that part of your soul that is a bit crumpled, and realize that your triplets simply had another plan about how they would arrive, and that it wasn’t anything you did or did not do.
I wish I could be there to soothe your pain with an offering of choice pieces of the 5 S’s for you. Please feel our love and admiration for your fortitude through all of this. It takes a strong woman to know what she can take and when she needs to step away to rejuvenate – and you demonstrate this time & time again.
Amen to the part of the song that says:
blossom of snow may you bloom and grow, bloom and grow forever
That goes for you too, Tess. May you bloom & grow as well.
xoxo
PS – Meant to write “at the start of this past year.” Don’t know why I wrote “last year” – know that it was this year, but it does feel EONS ago, as you all have, thankfully, come so far.
It is so wrenching when your babe gets sick or you feel they might be in pain. Sounds like although a long night, you had a little therapy.
the 5 S’s really do work, especially the long loud Shhhhh… at least they do for my babe.
When my little sister was a baby and her stomach was really hurting her, we would sometimes put her in the “football hold” where her head was in your handad her tummy was lying across the underside of our forearm, her legs on either side of the arm. The other arm would be a support. Sometimes that was the only thing that would console her. I’m sorry to hear your darling baby was sick.
Reflux is horrible. And gas is almost as bad.
I hope Sela is better and you’re getting some sleep.
I was a preemie and threw up on my parents for a very long time. But I was the exception to the rule.
Then my son, who was full-term, had it as well but he got over it in a relatively short time. It seemed like a very long time.
And then the gas would start. There were many sleepless nights in my house.
You are my sunshine was the song of choice.
I’ve kept a skirt that I no longer wear because I got to wear it once and the stain from his throwing up on it five minutes after I had put it on could never be removed. And my dry cleaner tired everything under the sun. I can still smell that smell.
Poor Sela-critter. I’m glad that she can know your comfort now, where before plastic and tubes separated you. You’re a very strong woman, and you’ve got very strong kids. Hope Sela’s feeling better soon.