Today, Olivia was scheduled to have her G-tube swapped out (something that’s done every 3 months).
The doctor asked how things have been going and I told him “Wonderful! We haven’t used the tube at all since January 3rd, and weren’t totally dependent on it half way through December.”
He warned us that if Olivia got very sick and needed fluids and wasn’t taking them, they would have to do another surgery to replace the tube. And… since we are low risk for getting the flu (everyone at home has had the flu shot, we don’t go out very much with her, are homebodies, strongly discourage people from coughing directly in her face…) that he would take the tube out.
And he did. It took 2 seconds. Olivia didn’t even flinch.
I asked if the “button” was hazardous material and they had to dispose of it or if I could keep it. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I felt embarrassed. Was that weird to ask to keep it? I don’t know… it was a means to an end. Her ticket out of the the NICU, after 90, we were able to feed her enough for her to thrive. Hell yeah I want to keep that.
Holding her afterwards… it was incredible. I was like I was holding her for the first time. I didn’t have to worry about pressure or positioning, question whether or not tummy time hurt, if she was going to get angry enough to pull it out herself…
It was a healing cuddle.
They popped it out and bandaged her up, the bandage is ridiculously large. It covers nearly half of her belly!
As we approach the second half of her first year, I’m looking back with gratitude and forward to smoother path.