Well, the four of us had a good day on Saturday, and we enjoyed it.
Eliot got moved back to the nasal canula. Her face, that had been hidden behind the wretched C-PAP for a week and a half, was finally visible again. It was so beautiful.
Owen was doing well too, so they decided to move him from his encapsulated isolette into a "big boy" open crib - an awesome, white spindle, twin co-bed crib. I moved him in on Saturday night - snug and swaddled - and when we left that evening he was happily staring at the ceiling and sucking on his pacifier. The look on his face was a little confused, as if he was saying, "Someone put down the lid!"
Around 9am this morning, we called the nurse for an update. "Eliot's doing okay," she said. "But Owen had a rough night."
Whaaaattttt?! Are you serious?
They suspect Owen has an infection now. (Insert mommy's heart dropping here.) He started having trouble with his oxygen saturation levels and his feedings - nothing major, the doctor said. He wasn't acting like himself though, so they took a blood and urine culture, and started him on a round of antibiotics immediately. Once again, the doctor thinks the PICC line was infected (deja vu), so they pulled it. Just like with Ellie's cultures (which, by the way, are all negative!), we will have to wait 48 hours to see if anything grows. Awesome. I feel like all I do now is stress out and wait for more test results.
We visited the twins early this morning, and the beautiful, white spindle co-bed crib that Owen would eventually share with his little sister was gone. Owen was put in an open warming bed because he couldn't maintain his temperature through the night - another sign of an infection. Just check them off the list, little guy. God forbid you miss any.
You would think - by now - that we would be used to this crap. But, we're not. One good day was really nice, but - seriously - could we just get a few more?