Good things in small packages
Lori Borgman | Monday, Aug 23, 2010
Our family has been given many blessings, but
height has never been one of them. So we were surprised when our twin
granddaughters arrived early and were being called the big kids on the block.
Even if you’re girls, when you’re closing in on 4 pounds in the neonatal
intensive care unit, you pretty well qualify as middle linebackers.
Because the bruisers in soft pink and white sleepers
were doing well and breathing on their own, they were promoted to the unit known
as The Village. Technically, this makes them Village People, although they have
yet to jump up and sing “YMCA” and do the accompanying arm movements. Maybe next
week.
The two babies share an Isoloette which is a large
clear plastic box with two holes on each side and one on the end so caretakers
can tend to the babies without changing their air temperature. Moms and dads are
encouraged to do all the hands-on care in The Village, changing diapers,
comforting the babies and taking the babies temps at regular intervals.
The babies are swaddled separately amidst a tangle
of wires for IV ports, heart, respiratory and oxygen monitors. There is a 10 to
1 blanket –to-baby ratio. Periodically, the Isolette begins looking like the
morning after a slumber party. Blankets and bedding are piled high in wild
disarray that says we stayed up all night, laughing, talking, drinking breast
milk and having a ball.
The babies are mirror images of one another, perfect
in every detail, from their round little heads, to their almond shaped eyes,
tiny noses and delicate lips. And yet, like all premies, they are not quite
finished. They’re on the scrawny side for linebackers. Their little legs lack
meat and they would not be comfortable sitting on metal folding chairs.
There are three things premies must learn to do when
they are born. They must learn to breathe, feed, and maintain their own body
temperature. This is what is happening in the isolette. And one twin is doing
this a little faster than the other.
But there is something else happening. They babies
have been swaddled afresh and positioned side-by-side. There is a space of four
inches between their little heads.
One twin yawns and turns her head and the space
between them narrows ever so slightly. Then the other one stretches her neck and
the space narrows a little more. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, like watching a
cloud slowly inching across a vast blue sky, the babies inch and wiggle until
there is but a small sliver of space between them. In an effort to help the twin
who is not quite as skilled at maintaining body temperature as the other one, a
nurse swaddles them together in one blanket. Heaven.
They are now as close as they can be, not even a
pinkie apart. The Isolette is covered with a heavy blanket and the babies are
enveloped in shadows to simulate the environment in the womb.
A peek inside several minutes later reveals the one
baby has laid her small pink hand on the other one’s head as if to say, “Don’t
worry, I’ll warm you.” And few minutes after that, they are holding hands.
Two premies in an isolette already have what nearly all mankind
longs for -- someone to share the journey with, someone who will give you a pat
on the head, and someone to hold your hand.
