*


*



I’m not really sure why I’m writing this, but I just needed a place to… share my thoughts. I’m actually not sure if there’s anything to share, but I just need a place to… vent? Maybe vent isn’t the right word either. I’m not trying to be cryptic on you, nor am I speaking in code. I just want to log (I think log fits) what’s been happening with my little family. Please read on, my friends…




Pam (my wife) and I knew we’d won the lottery with our firstborn. Our three-year-old Cecelia is lighthearted, happy, and just easy as it goes. The kid is nothing but smiles. Everything has been so simple, so easy, and so sweet with her that we decided round numero dos was in order.


Pam became pregnant just as easily the second time around and we were overjoyed to be expecting again. I love being a dad. Parenthood can be difficult at times, but absolutely mind-blowing at all times. I’m not making this up – if you lived it and felt it, you know exactly what I’m talking about.


During the first trimester Pam was nauseous… a lot. She says it was the same queasy feeling she had with Cece, but she was throwing up a lot more than I remembered. And as days turned into weeks, the way she felt began to change quite a bit. Unfortunately for her, those changes weren’t always positive.


She began with major food aversions, which was strange because she was hungry all the time. I’m not talking just hungry, I mean famished, like she hadn’t had food in days. But through those first few weeks, whenever I asked her how she felt, she generally shrugged it off and said, “I’m okay,” instead of rattling off a list of ailments.


“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You seem a little pale.”


“I’m good. Just hungry.”


“Do you want a snack?”


“No, no. Thank you. I don’t—”


“My famous grilled cheese?”


“Oh no… This baby doesn’t want it.”


“This baby,” I said, moving towards her on the couch, “Doesn’t seem to want anything.”


She smiled and placed both her hands on her barely-there baby bump. My hands joined hers, protecting the little cluster of us taking shape inside her.


“We’ll have a picky eater this time,” she said. “I think you might want to start practicing your best sales pitch because I don’t see this kid eating anything grilled in the near future.”


We laughed that time because all signs pointed to a healthy pregnancy and an even healthier baby. But as the first trimester came to end, things began to change. She wasn’t even showing yet, but had a lot of swelling and other aches and pains. It was during this time that she was rushed to the ER because they found a cyst on her right ovary.


She was in a lot of pain and I felt useless watching the doctors insert a really long needle in her side to drain out the cyst. I remember holding her hand in both of mine as she quivered. Her entire body was tense, almost in shock. The pink rue from her cheeks was gone and her lips were pale, almost transparent. To give you an idea of the pain, they gave her morphine three different times with escalating volumes, but it was still off the charts. All I could think of was making it stop. I just wanted it to stop.


We ended up spending the rest of the night in the hospital.


The next morning she was no longer in pain, but was extremely exhausted. Her eyes would drift open, register me, but close.


They did a sonogram later that day and it showed no cyst and also a healthy baby.


“The heartbeat is slightly accelerated, but he is doing just fine,” the doctor said.


“He is doing just fine?” I asked.


And that was how we found out we were expecting a boy. I would’ve been happy either way, but man… I think Pam and I shed a few tears that day. I’ll be honest; I didn’t think the baby was going to be okay. But hearing the thump-thump of my son’s heart while the doctor listed all the good things going on with him… I just broke.




The pregnancy progressed ….We (I always say we, but Pam is doing all the work) entered a new phase. When she was twenty weeks along, she began to feel every bit of it. There were a lot of sleepless nights, back pains, and nausea that still lingered. Acid reflux was also a faithful companion and freak sharp shooting pains would often rise up her spine.


The first time it happened Pam was in the kitchen cooking with Cece. The prickly pain rocketed through her spine and down her left leg like a lightning bolt. Pam tried to mask the discomfort as much as she could, but the pain leaked through her façade and Cece was quick to notice.


Pam said Cece asked if she was okay, but since she couldn’t respond, Cece ran to me in living room screaming, “Daddy! Daddy! Mommaissaddaddymommahasabooboo. Daddycomecomecomedaddycome!”


It took me a minute to understand what she was saying but I sensed something was wrong with momma. I remember scooping Cece off the floor and running to the kitchen to find Pam leaning over the sink.


I lowered Cece to the floor and went to her; she had her eyes shut and her breath came in shallow gasps. I carefully circled my arms around her, trying not to alarm Cece who was pulling on Pam’s pant leg asking, “Momma you okay, momma?? Momma, you bedder??Momma, Daddy’s hea! Momma???”


I whispered, “Babe, what’s wrong? Should we go to the hospital?”


Pam just shook her head.


She looked at me with tight lips, her pain evident across her face. She gestured with her head towards Cece and I knew she needed me to get Cece away from there. I let go of her, picked Cece up, and began to walk away, but Cece she just cried, “Momma!! Nooooo!! I wan my mommaaaaa!!”


“Mom’s okay Cee. But let’s see if we can—”


“Daddy nooo!! Mommaahh!!!”


“How about we—”


“MOOMMAAHH!!”


And then Pam couldn’t take it.


“Jim,” she called. “It’s okay, just—”


I lowered Cece to the floor and she ran as fast as her little legs could take her, quickly circling her little arms tightly around Pam’s legs. Pam dropped her hand from the edge of the sink to Cece’s fuzzy head.


Cece looked up with her big blue eyes and said, “Momma I make u alllllll beddeer, kay?”


Cece is all heart.


Pam chuckled, but I could still see the turmoil ripping through her.


“How about we go to the living room?” I offered.


Pam nodded and we slowly made our way down the hall.


“Look Momma,” Cece kept saying, “We almosss dere. Look! Momma, you’re no lookin’. We almosss dere, Momma. Momma, you bedder???”


“Yes, I’m better, baby girl.”


Once we reached the Living room, I helped Pam get comfortable and Cece was there grabbing the couch throw and dragging it across the floor.


“Hea Momma. The blue comfy. ’S the best.”


“Thank you Cece, you’re so sweet.”


“How about we make Momma some tea, huh?” I offered and Cece’s eyes lighted up. She loves making tea, even though she’s not actually doing any of the making herself.


“Yes daddy! That’s a gud idea.”


Pam was okay after that. But that was the day we thought all these symptoms that had become the “norm” weren’t normal at all. We brought it to the doctor’s attention and he ordered an extensive list of tests, reinforcing that it was way too early in the game to be taken lightly.


So, a diagnosis finally came through and it hit us like a flood – abrupt, painful, and cold. Pam was diagnosed with preeclampsia. Her labs showed low platelet count, high protein levels in her urine, and higher-than-normal liver enzymes. (Her blood pressure was also through the roof). The doctors can’t explain why she has it. All they can do is try to prolong the pregnancy as much they can because the only cure for it is delivering the baby.


And that brings us to now… You can probably tell by what you’ve read so far that the smooth edges of our life are not so smooth anymore.


Pam is 25 weeks along. Our son is 14 inches long and weighs about 1 and a half pounds. I’m currently writing this from Pam’s hospital room where she is settled for the night. Cece is with us and is on the bed curled up against mom while Pam reads ‘Goodnight Moon’ to her.


Pam wasn’t feeling too good today and it turned out her blood pressure was acting up again, so she had to be admitted. The doctor is watching her closely because they fear she could go into labor. If that happens, the baby has very little chance of surviving. There was a two hour time frame where the doctor was pretty certain things were progressing and everyone was on high alert. But everything calmed down. They have given her medications, but they won’t do much to prevent her from going into pre-term labor if her body really decides it’s time for that.


They are running more test as we speak and we’re hoping everything checks out okay. Our goal is to deliver the baby at 32 weeks. He would still need to be in the NICU, but his chances of being a normal, healthy baby go up by 97%. If he were to be born today, the survival rate is 25% and if he survives, there’s a 95% chance he’ll have long term disabilities. I don’t know about you, but my head is spinning with this information.


But Pam’s holding strong (I am continually amazed at the resiliency and the strength of her body). She would stand on her head for the remaining months if she had to keep this baby healthy, and for that she gets the Amazing-Mom-Award. But according to the doctor, the next 5-7 weeks are critical for her and the baby. From here on we’ll see just how much this girl can take.


As I listen to my daughter say goodnight to all the apparatus beeping around the room, I think it’s time to end my “talking” here. I hope the next time I decide to write again I have better news. We know the next few months will be the greatest challenge of our lives, but we are in good spirits. Just keep out little family in your thoughts for now.


-Jim

*


*


Life is good.


For some of you, I imagine you might have to pick yourself up off of the floor after reading that statement considering our current circumstances, but hear me out… Life for us Halperts has definitely changed, but things could be worse (a lot worse).


Pam is stable, and that alone is reason to live by the slogan up top. Although this up-and-down game we’ve been playing has been extremely stressful, no doubt, but Pam says it’s all good as long as she stays pregnant. Her only frustration is that she might have to deliver before the baby’s ready (But so far, it appears that no matter what happens the doctors will hold out every last possible second before delivering the him).


Our little guy is also doing great. Pam’s getting pretty big and he is moving more now. I felt him moving for the first time yesterday. He appears to be very mellow, this kid. He will hopefully bring a much needed dose of calm amidst the storms that are rolling through our home nowadays. (Pam was a little worried about him, though. Unlike her brother, Cece was very active from the get go. I could easily get her to kick by nudging Pam’s belly in the right places. But this little one has been very complacent. He will usually tuck himself underneath one of her ribs and stay there.)




Ever since we found out we were having a boy, we began our baby name search. The name Cecelia came to us right away, but we still had other names line up. It was only when we saw her that we both went, “Cecelia.” We were going to wait to name him too, but we kept coming back to one…


Benjamin James Halpert.


Is has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?


It’s funny because ever since we chose the name we’ve been calling him Big Ben. And yesterday, at our sonogram, the doctor told us he is actually pretty big considering Pam’s condition. He is weighing a whopping two whole pounds and measuring about fifteen inches long. I told Pam this would happen because of a round of steroids she took to help accelerate his brain, lungs, and heart development if he came early.


Of course, I only kid. There’s no real parallel between the steroids and Ben actually being big. But it was very exciting news.


Now…from one Halpert kid to another...


Cece got a bit of the jealous bug that goes around firstborns this past week. We have been very diligent about including her in everything we do; readying the baby's room, shopping for the baby, and we even explained the reason for the bassinet in our bedroom. So we naively thought, “Done deal, jealousy averted!”


Oh, but wait – that’s not the way it works, is it? No, it isn’t.


We were on the couch watching TV while Cece played around us. I’ve been telling her to be extra careful with mom because the baby was growing in her belly and she’s been pretty good about that, even going beyond her calling to be momma’s best helper. But this day, she threw all caution to the wind.


She was climbing on me and putting clippy things on my hair while running around like her usual crazy self. Pam was next to me, her feet resting on the coffee table, when Cece very excitedly said, “Momma, I make you preeeetty, kay?” and leaped from my lap to Pam’s.


Yeah… time stopped for a few seconds.


“Cece!” I yelled (I shouldn’t have, but my brain short-circuited). “You cannot jump on mom like that,” I said lifting her off of Pam. “You are going to hurt the baby.”


Her big expressive eyes filled with tears and the biggest pout I’ve even seen on this girl’s face appeared. I began walking her to the kitchen to sit her down on time-out when she cried, “The baby has momma alllllll the time. She’s mmmmyyyyyyy momma fwiiiiist!”


I stopped amid my tracks - paralyzed under the living room’s threshold. What had she just said?


I just stood there holding my grief-stricken daughter, who was now full-on sobbing on my shoulder. I had definitely just tripped on my own heartstrings. I ran my hand up and down her back willing for her to calm a bit, saying, “Hey, Cee…Cece? Can you look at daddy?”


But she burrowed her face deeper on my shirt and just sobbed.


“C’mere,” Pam called from the couch, extending her arms to Cece.


I walked to Pam and carefully placed Cece on her lap. Pam wiped the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks with one hand while running the other through her hair.


“Cece, I want you to listen to me very carefully, okay? Can you do that?”


Cece nodded wiping her eyes and running nose.


“Daddy and I love you very much. You know that, right?”


Cece nodded again.


“I know we’ve been talking a lot about the baby. But Cece, you’ll always be our very first baby.” Pam smiled and tickled her belly - a small grin peaked through her sad face. “But see,” Pam continued. “The baby is really small in my belly and we have to be very, very careful, okay?”


“But momma [hiccup], I don’t hurrr [hiccup] the baby.”


“I know you didn’t, but sometimes—”


“I aaammm soooorrryyyy, mommmmmaaaaaa,” Cece broke. “I doooon’t huuurrrrr the baaaabyyy agaaaain!”


“I know, I know...” Pam said, kissing her, “You didn’t hurt the baby.”


We both got teary eyed. I knew this whole thing was stressful on us, but we thought we had protected Cece from it all. But I guess no one is immune to it.


“I think we need a nap,” Pam mouthed to me.


And we needed indeed.


But everything has been good since then. Cece will says little things like, “I wanna one [the mobile on the crib] on my bed too, daddy,” or “Can we move my bed hea [next to our bed] when the baby comes too, daddy?”


We’re just glad she hasn’t told us to give the baby away when it gets here. Perhaps if she asks us when we’re sleep deprived and swimming in dirty diapers we might consider.


But my ranting ends here.


It’s about three o’clock in the morning and I’ve typed this with one hand while holding Cece with the other. She woke up and went to our bed, but I took her downstairs with a promise of hot cocoa. Pam needs all the sleep she can get and wouldn’t likely remain asleep with Cece curling up next to her.


Obviously there are a lot of things that we can worry about with Pam’s immediate health and the striking fear of premature labor ticking and tocking between our ears, but we selected a fair share among the choices we were offered. And the outlook right now it good. So I’ll keep with the ‘Life is Good’ slogan for now.


‘Till next time,
Jim

*


*



I don’t even know where to begin


I’ve been feeling pretty restless lately, which for me is somewhat uncommon. I’ve been agitated, aggravated, like nothing I am doing or am about to do is quite right… lack of focus, having difficulty being present in the moment, any moment (as I try to type this, the words I can’t take this anymore are forming at the tips of my fingers).


If you can sense the frustration through my words, you are sensing right. And the fallout leaves me with a lot thoughts swirling in my head, all of which leads me to wonder just where to begin?


Pam went into full labor this past Sunday. The doctors told us Ben had a 75% chance of survival, but he would require a lot of intervention, potentially including mechanical ventilation and other invasive treatments. Pam immediately rejected the option and told the doctor she was not delivering, even though her body clearly told her otherwise.


“I can’t…” she kept saying. “He needs a few more weeks.”


“You might not have more time to give him,” the doctor told her.


“It’s going to stop,” she protested. “The contractions will stop.”


But they didn’t. They actually grew closer and closer together and at one point they were just minutes apart. My skin sezzled and my heart was beating so frantically, it was hard to breathe.


Restless…..restless….restless…..


“Pam, Ben is going to be okay.” I kept telling her, even though my mind told me otherwise. “They are going to take good care of him.”


“Jim, I’m not delivering him,” she said breathlessly. The contractions were taking a toll on her. “We have to give him the best possible chance. I know my limit, this isn’t it. We’ll be okay.”


I don’t know if she was saying it more to herself than to me because things were clearly not good. It wasn’t until the doctor did an ultrasound, showing a deficiency in blood supply to the baby that she understood, no, I’m not okay.


“It seems here,” the doctor said pointing to the screen, “There’s been a decrease in blood flow to the placenta.”


“I-Is he okay?” I asked.


“Right now he is okay, but he won’t be for long.”


“We have to deliver him?” I asked, but I phrased it like a statement.


“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We can try one last option before we proceed with delivery.”


“What is it?” Pam asked.


“It’s a very powerful combination of magnesium sulfate and Prostaglandin synthetase inhibitors. This is a last-resort drug.”


“In other words,” I began. “There are risks.”


“Yes,” he answered. “Mom and the baby will have to be closely monitored.”


“What are they risks?” I asked, but I really didn’t want to know.


“The symptoms for the mother are very critical. It may include, muscle weakness, fluid in the lungs, heart attack, stroke…”


“And for the baby…” Pam asked.


“Minor jaundice, fast heartbeat, but nothing that we can’t closely monitor.”


The room went silent. Pam and I just held hands. We were at a crossroads and it seemed that whatever path we chose wouldn’t be the right one. We definitely weren’t ready for this, and maybe we’ve tricked ourselves into believing that it was all going to work out just fine. What if we can’t possibly handle what’s coming our way? What if Ben doesn’t make it? What if our marriage suffers? What if Cece becomes over-stressed and overwhelmed? What if, what if, what if…


Restless…..restless….restless…..


My head was spinning until Pam broke the silence and asked, “How will you be monitoring the baby?”


“We’ll need to monitor him internally,” the doctor explained. “We’ll place an electrode directly on his head through your cervix.”


The room grew silent again before the doctor said, “I’ll give you two a moment.”


“Thanks,” Pam said.


As soon as the door closed behind him, Pam turned to me and said, “We’re stopping the labor,” She was defensively cradling her belly like a knight. All she really needed was a battle-ax in her hands to complete the picture.


“Whaa…What?”


“That’s Ben’s best option because he is safer in here. We have to try.”


I had all these counter arguments swirling in my head and I wanted to make her see what could happen to her if we chose this route. But she wasn’t worrying about herself. There was this little heart it was her job to protect and I knew she couldn’t bring herself to take any other chance.


“You said it yourself they would take good care of him, right? They will take good care of me too. And if something doesn’t seem right they’ll make it better, right?”


I looked at her and I couldn’t help but give her the answer she wanted to hear, “Y-yes… They will make it b-better.”


I moved towards the bed sat next to her. We both wanted to believe things would be okay, but the reality was different. I placed my hand over her belly and rubbed circles on it. Her hands joined mine.


“I don’t want to lose him,” she said.


I thought a bit before I answered. “We won’t,” I said, trying to keep my voice even and calm, despite the whirlwind of emotion I felt churning inside me.


“I haven’t even met him and he already has such a big part of my heart.”


“Pam, he is ours.” My Ben. My boy. My son.


“Why is this happening to us, Jim?”


There’s no actual answer, I wanted to tell her. It’s a rhetorical question. Life is not always fair. But at the time I told her there was no use in trying to make sense of things (or something along those lines). I sounded so empty and thinking about it now makes me wonder why she didn’t see right through me.


We painfully made the decision to go ahead with the drugs and my heart grew a little tighter with every consent form I signed. They began administering the drugs, but the contractions kept coming. Pam began going in and out of conscience and a tidal wave of emotion and stress came over me and sent me reeling into backwash of doubt and anguish. Did we make the wrong choice?


Frustrated.....agitated.…...aggravated…..


I felt as if every cell in my body was in a stranglehold. My blood was racing, my mind was in a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions, and the only thing I knew for sure was that someone was going to end up hurt.


“I want to see Cece,” Pam blurted out. The time between her eyes opening and closing were getting longer and longer.


“W-what?” I immediately thought, bad idea.


“I haven’t seen her, Jim. I want to see her.”


“But Pam—”


“Tell m-my mom to c-come for a visit,” she said a bit breathless.


I wasn’t going to argue with her, not now. “Okay.”


I called Helene and masked the turmoil raging through me as I asked her to bring Cece for a visit. At the time, it didn’t even occur to me to ask the doctor if it was okay, which I found out, it wasn’t. But after a lot of talking and convincing, we were allowed to get Cece up to the room for a couple of minutes.


When Helene arrived, I met them in the lobby.


“Daddy!!” Cece called, flying into my arms.


“Hey, Swea’Pea!”


“Daddy, I made dis,” she said showing me a very colorful piece of construction paper. “S’ for baby Ben ’n momma!”


“That was so thoughtful of you!”


I kissed her and just held on to her - a tight knot of tension coiled inside me.


“How’s Pam doing?” Helene asked.


“We are waiting for the drugs to kick in.”


“And the baby?”


“They are monitoring him very closely.”


“Are they going to be okay?” Helene whispered in her smallest voice. I knew she didn’t want to know the answer.


“Yes,” I replied, more to myself. Everything will be okay.


“Daddy, I wanna see momma!!”


“Okay, Okay.” I told her.


“I’ll wait here,” Helene said.


“Thanks,” I mouthed.


We took the elevator up to the 5th floor and as soon as the doors opened, Cece said, “Ahh we dere yet?”


“Almost, but remember… you have to be really careful with mom.”


“Daddy I’ll be a gud girl, but daddy?”


“Yess?”


“Can I hug momma?”


“Of course, but not like this,” I said, squeezing her tightly. She giggled. I can’t explain how good it felt hearing her laugh. I began to understand the logic behind Pam’s madness.


“Daddy?


“Yes?”


“Can I kiss momma?”


“Yes, you can.”


“Like this, daddy?” She asked and planted the sloppiest kiss on my cheek. She knew what she had done and was completely amused to see the shock on my face.


“Oh no you didn’t!”


She flashed that mischievous smile of hers.


“You’re so silly,” I said.


“Daddy?” She said with a bit more gravity in her tone. “When‘s momma comin’ home?”


“Soon, Cece,” I told her. “Very soon.”


“Daddy? I miss momma dis much,” she said extending her arms out.


“I know bug… I know….”


When we reached the room, Cece inexplicably tightened her grip around my neck.


“We’re here,” I said, pushing the door open.


Cece’s smile grew three times when she finally saw Pam.


“Momma!” She exclaimed, but held herself tight in my arms. Normally she would wiggle and pitch herself at Pam.


“C’mere, Baby girl,” Pam said exhausted. Cece looked up at me - she was waiting for my okay. I nodded and placed her on the bed next to Pam.


“Momma, I made dis jus for you!” She said showing Pam the card.


“This is beautiful, Cece. Thank you.”


Pam just held Cece close, absorbing everything about her. I just sat back and watched. It is truly beautiful seeing them together. I can’t wait to see Pam with Ben. Our kids won the lottery when it comes to mothers and I sure know I did too in the wife department.


We had told the doctor Cece would only be up with us for a few minutes but since no one (there were nurses coming and going constantly) asked us to bring her out, we kept her with us. And after about an hour, Pam began to feel Ben move.


“He is moving,” she said.


I didn’t know what to make of it, but I jumped on the happy wagon and fed on the feeling.


“Momma, can I see it?”


“Sure,” Pam said, taking Cece’s small hands in hers.


It didn’t take long before Ben was nudging Cece’s hands.


“Oooohh momma…. Dere he is!”


“Pretty cool, huh?”


And that was when Cece said, “Momma, you no sick. Can we go home now?”


Up until that point, Pam and I hadn’t realized that her contractions had stopped. There were no more spikes on the machine, and Ben’s numbers looked stable. The doctor came in shortly after and confirmed our suspicion. Pam’s contractions had fully stopped.



Pam and I looked at each other and we just burst into tears. We were so relived and happy and ecstatic and fortunate, and blessed, and, and, and….


Restless…..restless….restless…..


Pam is now 28 ½ weeks along. We are tired, stressed, ready for things to calm down, and hoping that those calmer, relatively more restful days come sooner than later.


As the metaphor goes, we are still climbing the mountain and probably will for a while, but the terrain seems to have leveled out a bit as we get close to the 32 weeks checkpoint. The trees are beginning to clean and we can almost see the first of what is sure to be many summits on the path ahead.




-Jim

*

*


We are at thirty weeks along and we are counting the minutes remaining before the unknown hour at which Ben will make his entrance into the world. Pam had a good night of sleep last night, though not as good as the previous two. But she’s settled into some sort of pattern: decent mornings, awful afternoons, decent evenings, and good nights. We’ll see if this continues to be true over the next couples of weeks.


Pam is still pre-eclamptic, but she is stable. The doctors decided not to do labs on her until next week, so we live without the threat of delivery for now. They actually think Pam can hold out another two weeks (as long as her contractions do not progress to real labor). But even Pam’s water breaking will not mean that we make a mad dash for the operating room! Apparently, as long as there’s a bit of fluid in the amniotic sack, Ben can continue to survive and grow inside Pam’s belly.


Big Ben continues to do well and has a pretty good chance all around, over 95%. He is almost three pounds and measures about 16 inches long. But I’m not concerned with Pam or Ben nowadays (they’ve proven to be tough cookies), my concern is with our little Cecelia.


Last week Pam had to stay at the hospital (Nothing is taken lightly at this stage) because of pending lab results. Usually I would drop Cece off at Helene’s and return to stay the night with Pam. But Cece wasn’t feeling good and Pam and I decided that I would stay home with her.


When I picked her up, she was already sleeping and would normally remain asleep all night. But at around 11-ish she woke up and staggered into our bedroom, dragging her blanket.


“Mommma?” She called.


“Hey girl. Why are you awake? It’s night-night time.”


“Daddy? I wan momma,” she said rubbing her sleepy eyes.


“Oh bug, momma’s in the hospital.”


I expected her to counter with, “But I want to see her,” or “Can we go see her?” but she didn’t. Her face scrunched up, her little legs gave in from underneath her, and she broke completely. It caught me off guard. Cece is not one to just burst into tears, even if she is feeling a bit under the weather.


“Mommaah!!!” She cried.


“Cee, c’mere girl.” I asked her, but she didn’t move. So I walked to where she had planted herself and tried to lift her to me, but she grudgingly pulled away.


“I wanna mommmahh!!”


I tried to lift her to my lap again, but she stiffened her entire body like you wouldn’t believe. Helpless, I sat there on the floor with her.


“Cecelia, you're breaking my heart. You're shaking my confidence daily,” I began singing. I know, I know…It’s not the best song. But it’s her song.


“Oh, Cecelia, I'm down on my knees. I'm begging you please to come home...........Cecelia, you’re breaking….”


By the third verse she had stopped crying. She let her little body slump on the carpet and nuzzled her flushed face on her blanket. I sat there with her, rubbing my hand on her back. She was a bit warm, but not feverish. Her nose was running and I’m sure she felt just as miserable as she looked.


“Cee?” I said.


She looked up at me with eye swimming in pools of tears.


“You miss momma, huh?”


She nodded as I wiped her nose.


“What if we go see her tomorrow first thing?”


“DaddyIwannaseemomma,” she repeated with a new a rush tears.


“I know sweetie. But it has to wait till tomorrow, kay? C’mere….”


She crawled to me and burrowed her face on my shirt. Cece was tired, tired of this whole situation, tired of being whisked away from us.


“Do you want to go to the big bed?”


She shook her head.


“Yeah... me neither.”


So we just slept there, on the floor.


I can’t explain the sadness that overcame me that night. I was heartbroken. Cece’s not the seven pounder who came in our lives three years ago and turned everything we knew upside down for the first time of many times to come. She’s definitely not the one-year-old who used my stomach as a trampoline. She’s this little girl with a big heart that is very much breakable.


And it is my job to protect it and I feel like I have slept on the job.


You might think I’m over reacting. And maybe I’m. Beside, kids cry for their parents all the time, right? It’s just….Everything seems to be slipping away from me and I can’t find any quick absorbing action that will get it under control. I do all that I can to be a devoted father, a caring husband, and a good person, but it seems I’m lagging behind ….


Pam called that night and I avoided at all costs telling her what happened, but she knows me very well. There’s very little I can hide from her.


“I know there’s something wrong, Jim.”


“Pam, everything is fine.”


“I don’t know why you’re choosing to hide whatever it is you’re hiding from me. Does Cece have a fever?”


“Not really.”


“Do you have a fever?”


“No… It’s just—”


“What?”


I sighed. How was I supposed to tell her this without breaking her heart? “Cece woke up and came to the room asking for you. When I told her you weren’t here she just…broke, Pam.”


“Oh Jim...Is she okay now? Did she cry for long? Are you sure she doesn’t have a fever?”


“She doesn’t have a fever. I’m keeping her with me tonight. I told her we’re coming to see you first thing tomorrow.”


I heard Pam sniffling on the other side of the phone. I knew this would happen.


“You okay?”


“Umm…. Yeah.. I-I’m okay. You should make an appointment for Cece, though. Maybe there’s some bug going around that we don’t know about.”


“Yeah, I’ll call tomorrow.”


There was a beat of silence before she asked, “What time are you coming tomorrow?”


“Around 10. I have a feeling Cece will be sleeping in. How are you holding up?”


“I’m hanging in here. Ben hasn’t moved tonight.”


“He is sleeping, Pam. Actually you should go rest yourself. It’s late.”


“I guess… Kiss Cece goodnight for me.”


“I will. We love you.”


“We love you too.”


I didn’t sleep that night and I’m pretty sure Pam didn’t either. The next morning she looked worn out. But being the amazing mom she is, she put it all aside and placed a smile on her face for Cece.


Even though Cece’s tears have since been replaced with lots of smiles, we are still keeping a close eye on her. We make sure we dedicated a day just for her. We also make sure we don’t go a day without seeing her. We actually spent the day at the park today. It got my mind away from… everything. For a moment it was like everything was okay - an escape from reality. It calmed my restlessness a bit.


I want to finish this post with something Pam told me today. She said that headaches only appear when we forget to laugh. But how can I laugh when my wife’s health is at risk? Or when I don’t know if Ben will be okay? And how can I laugh when my little girl cries because she misses her mom? Or when life is just really, really, really hard and unpleasant and downright awful sometimes? Honestly? I don’t know. But I think Pam is on to something.



Hopefully the next time I decided to write again I’ll have it figured out.


-Jim

*


*


It has been one crazy morning. They are going to deliver our little guy today. Pam’s kidneys have started to fail and the placenta has begun to detach from her uterus, but her labs are looking good – her platelet count is way up, so the doctors decided we can’t wait any longer.

I’m completely nervous and scared out of my mind while Pam is suspiciously calm. I think the pain meds have made her loopy.

Definitely more to come later,

Jim

*


*


Happy Birthday, Benjamin James Halpert!


He is finally here and doing very well for his age and weight. Whew! The little guy came out weighing 3 pounds and 2 ounces (4 pounds less than Cece), and measuring 16 inches long. He still needs a bit of extra help breathing, but no worries... he is doing just fine. Pam is doing okay. She’s still dealing with a lot of pain and discomfort. Her belly is extremely sore and her legs are still swollen. She’s trying to get some rest, but is very anxious to see Ben (she only got a flash of him in the operating room before he was whisked away for further care).


I got to see him a couple of times already. He is very small. I can already tell he will be a total beach bum. Both times that I’ve been up to the NICU he’s been completely stretched out under the special blue lights like he’s laying out at the beach … to funny!


We already got some great news. The doctors sonogrammed his brain to determine if there were any “brain bleeds” (these brain bleeds are known to cause cerebral palsy and are common in premature babies). Evidence of a few brain bleeds would not have been surprising. Well, the GREAT news is that Ben doesn’t have any brain bleeds!


There’s only one little issue that the doctor’s have picked up. They’ve noticed a faint heart murmur, which means that one of his heart valves is leaking. Again, this is something that is common in preemies, but can develop into something more serious. We hope that Ben’s little heart will heal up on its own, without intervention from the doctors.


Little Miss Cecelia is super excited to be a big sister. She can’t wait to see Ben (she needs to be totally checked out before going into the NICU). Penny got her a shirt that says ‘big sis’- not that she needs help with the announcement since she’s been notifying anyone around her that she’s a big sister. I’m very proud of her.


I’m on cloud nine right now. The high seas that came with Ben’s delivery (and pregnancy) seem like a distant past. I can’t describe the feeling of... relief? Yeah, I’m relieved.


Here is a little rundown of what went down earlier today.
**


Ben was alert and kicking all morning, moving all around Pam’s belly like it was a bouncy castle. As I mentioned before, the kid is relatively complacent and fussing is not his style. Hence, it didn’t last long. After lunch, he settled in his place of comfort - under one of Pam’s ribs.


It was only by mid afternoon that Pam began feeling a different kind of pain. She said this pain was low, very low, and it wasn’t the pain that was concerning to her, it was the intense pressure that she felt down there. So we called the hospital and they told us to come in.


When we got there, the nurses immediately brought Pam in and began examining her. Then they wheeled the ultrasound machine and began scanning her belly. After a few minutes I was beginning to panic because no one was saying anything and I could sense something wasn’t right.


“Is everything okay?” I ventured.


“We are double checking.” The nurse replied.


Pam was wide-eyed looking between me and the sonogram screen. I could see the blood slowly draining from her face the more nervous she got. I pulled a chair next to her and whispered in her ear, “Everything is going to be fine.”


She closed her eyes and nodded.


They checked her down there and noticed she was bleeding a little bit. They asked her if she had noticed any bleeding earlier, but she said no.


“It seems your placenta has begun to separate from your uterus.”


“W-what does that mean?” She asked.


“It means we have to deliver this baby very soon. We’ll wait for your labs to come back and if everything looks good we’ll get you prepped for a c-section.”


“W-whaaat? Really? I-I….” I began to utter, but there was so much going in my head that the words weren’t coming to me. Ben is coming today? Did he say that?


“Right now the abruption is not severe. You’re currently at grade one. Hopefully you’ll not advance any further until your labs come back.”


“O-Okay.” She said.


I just stood there watching everything as if I was hovering, looking down on myself and Pam from above.


“You okay over there?” Pam asked.


“Yeah, I-I am… Ben’s coming today,” I said. Despite all that could go wrong, I was extremely thrilled to meet my son.


“I know, It’s kind of crazy, huh?” she said.


“Yeah…crazy.”


The events that followed have a dreamlike quality in my head. Pam’s condition aggravated and Ben’s heart rate began to drop and my heart began beating so hard and so fast I thought it would tear itself clear off my chest. I had to give myself a good talking-to (the nurses who passed me in the hall probably thought I had gone insane). I was losing my focus.


But it wasn’t long until Pam’s labs came back and she was wheeled to the operating room. Time stood still then. Every minute was separated by infinity of seconds until the moment the doctor told me to look over the blue partition and see my son being born.


“Look dad,” the doctor said.


“Oh my God, Pam… He’s…here!


They immediately began working on him, attaching tubes, wires, and some sort of baby bubble wrap over him. Although he didn’t cry, he was very fussy, waving his arms and feet all over the place. The nurses kept saying, “We got a live one here.” Unfortunately for Pam, she did all the work and missed out on seeing him.


I followed them up to the NICU, where I got a quick lesson on all the tubes and other apparatus Ben was attached too. When I went back down to the recovery room to check in on Pam (at that point, I hadn’t seen her since I left the operating room), I walked into where she was and with tears in her eyes, she asked, “Is he ok?”


With adrenaline still coursing through my veins I exclaimed, “Yes, he’s doing great!”


She responded with the pleading emotion I think any mother would have in her heart given what she’d just been through, “Really? You’re not just saying that? He’s really okay??”


By that time, both of us were a mess of emotions and the tears were rolling as I told her, “Yes, he’s ok.”


We’re all okay.


Pam will probably get to hold him starting tomorrow. They will do a skin to skin for a few minutes. They say contact helps the baby grow better and helps Pam’s milk to come in better. It also allows Pam to come into contact with the germs that Ben is exposed to which will cause her body to build up antibodies to fight these germs. Pam will then pass these antibodies to him through her milk. Unfortunately, since there is no medical benefit to Ben, I won’t get to hold him for a few more days.


I haven’t slept in two days and I probably won’t for the next couple of months. It’s going to be tough going home without Ben. He will stay at the hospital until the doctors say so. They have to play everything by ear and once they feel it’s okay to bring him home, we will.




This whole experience taught me how to be grateful for the small things in life…you know, health, happiness, and all that good stuff. Call it maturity, call it parenthood, call it the lessons learned from the logic of life, if you like; but the past 4 months taught me to look at life with a different pair of eyes. I’m certainly more grateful for what I have than I ever was.


I have a wife, I have a beautiful daughter, and now I have a handsome baby boy. I feel utterly and blissfully complete.


That’s’ all I have for now. I’m here at the hospital writing this post while Pam and Cece sleep. (Yeah, Cece’s with us. We are going to try to get her up to the NICU to see her brother.) Hopefully I’ll update this with more good news.


-Jim

*


*



I’m going to try to make this relatively quick because it’s late and I’ve had a crazy busy day, but I wanted everyone to have an update on things.


My main man, Ben, continues to do well and is now breathing on his own. The only concern continues with his little heart. They did an echocardiogram on him yesterday and the murmur is still there. He is not showing any ill effects at the moment, but there is still plenty of concern. They are going to start him on some meds tomorrow and hopefully his heart will respond to the medication. If not, Pam and I will have to choose whether we want to proceed with an operation, or wait until he is a few months older.


Hopefully, we won’t have to be faced with this decision.


Pam is also doing exceptionally well. All the little ailments (swelling, nausea, heartburn, back pains, etc…) are gone. There’re still the normal aches that comes with having an operation, but she’s having a speedy recovery. Yesterday we went for a walk around the hospital and we made all the way without stopping. This is an enormous leap from not being able to stand for more than 15 minutes.


I want to open a parenthesis for a moment and tell you how amazing my wife is. Her resilience and optimism is inspiring. She is simply the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I’m speechless with her strength and unconditional love. Babe, I love you and I consider myself the luckiest man alive.
**


Cece finally got to meet Ben yesterday afternoon. I took her up for her visit and she didn’t have a whole lot to say. She was excited, for sure, but not certain what to think of Ben - with his cool eye shades and the trendy wires and tubes going in and out of him.


“Dat’s him, daddy?”


“Yeah Cee… That’s your little brother.”


“Daddy, whas dat?” She asked, pointing to the blue tube taped to his mouth.


“That helps him breathe.”


“Ann dat?”


“That helps the doctors listen to his heart.”


“Daddy, why his eyes haff dat?”


“Do you see that light over there?”


“Um-humm.”


“Well, that protects his eyes from that light. Just like when you put sunglasses when the sun is too bright.”


“Ohh… “


She went on to ask a few more questions about the weird little creature we are calling ‘her brother,’ and you could see the wheels spinning in her head. But in the end, she reached inside the isolette and with her index finger she grazed Ben’s hand. She was very gentle and very, very careful. Ben in return opened his little hand and circled his tiny fingers around Cece’s.


“Ahh,” Cece gasped.


“I think he likes you.”


I’ll forever remember Cece’s facial expression - it was both, anxious and warm. She looked a lot like Pam. It will be very interesting to watch as she processes everything that happens over the coming days, weeks, and months.


Now, I couldn’t post this without telling you I finally got to hold Ben for the first time this morning. It was also the first time that I got to see him without his beanie and eye shades…his little face is so perfect. They took him out of his isolette and placed him on my chest, skin-to-skin, for about 30 minutes of good cuddle time. He just settled right in and stayed perfectly content for the entire time. As you can imagine, I had a hard time giving him back. Now I know how Pam felt the first time she held him.


Her first visit only happened the day after Ben was born. Crazy, right? I still can’t believe they kept her away for that long. She harassed every nurse that came into her hospital room. The momma-bear in her came out in full force.


Where’s my son?


I want to see my son!


Why aren’t they letting me see him?


Jim, is he okay?


Tell me Jim, is Ben really okay??


This is ridiculous, where is my son???


Needles to say, she was pretty emotional when she saw him. But her tears were quickly replaced with smiles as the nurses debriefed her on Ben’s condition. She was a little scared to touch him – he appears to be so fragile, not to mention tiny, but when it came time to hold him, she was a natural.


“Hey little man, I’m your mom,” she said and looked at me with glistening eyes, “Jim, he is so small.”


“I know,” I said watching her hands engulf him completely.


“Watch this,” I said removing my wedding band and placing through Ben’s hand like a bracelet.


“Oh wow!” She said, holding his small arm in her hand. “You have to grow really strong, kay little man?


“He will,” I said.


Time stood still as she rocked him, telling him about the new world he’s now part of. But the nurses had to end our visit shortly after. Ben’s nervous system was still very immature and prolonged sensory overload (touching, speaking...) could harm him.


She handed Ben back to the nurse with a heavy heart and with tears in her eyes.


“Can we stay here a little longer?”


“Sure,” the nurse said. “But you have to be very quiet.”


Since then, Pam has held him many times. As a matter of fact, she got to nurse him for the first time today. He latched pretty quickly, in my opinion. He did fuss for a good 5 minutes, but his sucking instincts kicked in and he nursed for a total of 7 minutes before tiring himself out.


Pam will be discharged tomorrow and I know she will not want to leave. And it will be weird leaving the hospital and going home without him. A piece of us will be missing. The doctors want to keep him until his due date. But it could be longer if his heart doesn’t heal like we expect it to.


I just want to fast forward until he is home, you know? Fast forward until I have my whole family together. I actually dreamt yesterday that we were all home and Pam was making the year’s first pot of chili. I woke up with a smile on my face. But that day isn’t far. Pam is actually saying she is going to sneak Ben out of the hospital under her shirt.


“No one will notice, right?” She jokes.


“Someone will notice.”


“If you think about it, I’m not stealing him.”


“You’re not?”


“No, I’m just taking something that is mine.”


“Right, you are right.”


“Exactly.”


I glanced at Pam, who was grinning broadly. She actually had a very elaborate plan that was more involved than placing Ben under her shirt. I’m afraid if I share it on this post the hospital security will be escorting us out tomorrow. . .


So, that’s it for now. I’ll be returning to work next week and I don’t know how often I’ll be able to update this. But thanks for reading and giving me an outlet to vent…. Vent fits better now.


Till next time,
Jim

*


*



Just last week Ben was rounding the final bend and into the home stretch. I mean, Big Ben was moved to an open crib, he was nursing on a regular basis, and he even passed the car seat test… my little man was really pushing for that ticket out of the NICU. Our hearts were set on bringing him home towards the end of this week and Pam had everything ready for his homecoming. Everything was perfect….but there was a setback.


It turns out that Ben was not responding to the meds they gave him to close the hole in his heart after all. His heart rate began dropping about three days ago and it hasn’t stopped since. The doctors had told us the murmur was gone, but when they performed an echocardiogram on him yesterday, not only did it confirm that the hole was still there, but that it is a very large hole (the fact that it is very large is probably why they couldn’t hear it any longer).


At this point they are stepping the meds up as a last ditch effort to get him to respond, but the doctors are not real optimistic that it will do the trick. There’s a big chance that Ben will need to have an operation. Pam and I are a bit shaken by this turn of events.


To easy our minds a bit, the doctor put us in contact with a mom in Carbondale, Sheryl, whose child had to go through this operation. We called her up and she agreed to meet with us. We took an afternoon off and drove up there. She was really helpful.


“I was very scared,” she told us. “Haylee was not even a month old and was already having major surgery? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.”


“Same here,” Pam said. “It’s hard seeing my son go through that. I keep asking, ‘why him?’ you know?”


“I know. I was just in your shoes a couple of months ago. This decision was by far the hardest I had to make. That being said, it was also the best decision I made. Haylee is a new baby.”


“I know it will be the better option for him, but...it’s hard not to think the worst, that he could be one of the small percent that doesn’t make it,” Pam said teary eyes.


“Did they give you an option to wait to do the surgery?” I asked.


“Yes, they did. But I decided to go through with it.”


“What made you decide?” Pam asked.


“I didn’t want this condition to hinder her later on. I wanted her to grow up normal, you know? I didn’t want her to be the kid with the condition.”


Pam and I picked her brain for a while longer and she definitely eased our minds. It helped us come up with a game plan, which is to wait and see if the meds will work. If they don’t, we will go on with the surgery.


This decision was made with a heavy heart.




I’d be lying if I said the stress isn’t getting to us….. It is. As it is right now, Pam and I go to the NICU every morning and afternoon. And it’s getting harder and harder to balance our time around, work, home, and the hospital. I thought that once Ben arrived, things would calm down. I was wrong. The stress just shifted.


Pam is really struggling with not having Ben home (separation anxiety). The day she was discharged was very, very emotional. She cried all the way home. I remember my heart being so tightly knotted in my chest that I lacked words to comfort her. Guilt had us both in a choke hold.


I know Pam doesn’t say it, but I know she blames herself for all that’s happened. I know she cries at night. I kills me that there’s nothing I can do or say to remedy it. Talking to Sheryl helped, but I wish she would talk to me. Nowadays, our conversations don’t go beyond Ben and Cece. And I miss her, like, really, really miss her. She is my soul mate, she’s everything to me. I’m always scared she will reach her breaking point and will come to me and say, “Jim, I can’t do this anymore.”


I know I can’t push her to talk to me, but I’m here for her. I hope hasn’t forgotten that.


Did I ever tell you that Ben has her mouth? He also has her nose.


I’m typing this (one hand- I’ve become a master at that) while Benny is curled up on my chest, inside my button-down shirt. It turns out that the most effective way to raise his heart rate is to do a skin-to-skin hold. I hadn’t held him like this since he graduated from the isolette to an open crib. He is a little bigger now (a whopping 5 pounds) and he moves and stretches his arms and legs a lot more.


He is back with the nasal cannula and because he is sleeping more since they up-ed of the meds, he also has the feeding tube in his nose. Our hope is that he comes home soon, but more importantly that he comes home when we are 100% certain that all his issues are resolved.
**



I planned for this post to be a little longer, but it’s been about 3 hours since I last wrote the sentence above. The machines Ben was attached to began beeping and a sea of nurses was around me in a span of a few seconds. They pulled him away from me and it was like they were ripping my heart out.


I didn’t know what was going on and I panicked. A few hospital personals had to escort me out of the NICU room. Yeah, it took a few of them. Enough about that…


Turns out, Ben’s breathing rate dropped and his oxygen levels were dangerously low. They had to intubate him.


He is not lying on my chest anymore. He has so many tubes, wires, IV's that makes it impossible for me to hold him. All I can do is kiss his fuzzy head and tell him over and over how much I love him and that I can't wait for him to get better and come home.


I called Pam, but not until I knew everything was okay. She is on her way here. She stayed home because our eldest chill bug has a bad cold, along with a nasty fever that persisted all through last night.



My thoughts are scattered all over the place. I don’t know what’s going to happen. The doctor wants to operate on him now (within the next 24 hours). We are having a meeting with the cardiologist as soon as Pam gets here. I don’t really know if I’m mentally prepared to deal with that.


Pam’s coming down the hall right now and oh boy, she has Cece draped over her shoulder- not good. She looks like what I think I look like right now.


I have to go.


-Jim

*



*


Hmmm, where do I begin? I think I’ve said that before starting off a new post. I apologize for being repetitive, but once again I have thoughts in my head circling like a tornado (Remember Twister? This is a category 5 tornado). Maybe I should start with the probable catalyst for these spinning thoughts: it’s been five days since my last post and exactly 48 hours since Ben underwent open heart surgery. (My stomach churns miserably thinking about it.)


The operation took 6 hours and 23 minutes. It was the longest I’ve ever went without breathing. Really. I don’t remember breathing. I don’t remember blinking. I don’t remember thinking. I don’t remember much of what happened in that time span. Everything is hazy and unclear. Now and again I’ll start to see snippets in my mind, playing out in short, broken images, but that’s all.


I do remember, though, seeing Ben right after the surgery. It was shocking. He didn’t look like my son. With all honesty, Ben didn’t look human. His face and body were swelled beyond belief. He looked yellow (the nurses later told me the yellow was from the Bentadine they scrubbed him down with). There was a blue respirator tube coming out of his mouth, a forest of IV poles around him, and a big gauze patch covering his entire chest.


I have a hard time looking past all that. My stomach feels like a tangled mess of knots. I have to push myself to walk into his CVICU (Cardiovascular intensive-care unit) room. And the most frustrating issue right now is my lack
of control. I’m just helplessly standing by. I haven’t held him in four days and I want nothing more than to hold him, dress him, change his diaper; but I’m powerless. There were very brief moments that I felt useful, but his life is truly in the hands of others.


The doctor’s say he is doing okay. But being a parent of a preemie for some time now, I know how quickly the status quo can change.


“He is doing well,” the doctor assured us. “His heart rate has been consistent. That’s what we want to see.”


“Is he in any pain?” Pam asked.


“No, he is sedate and will continue to be for the time being,” he said and ran his finger over Ben’s little head. “I know he doesn’t look okay right now, but trust me. He is doing very well.”


Pam is trying to cope much like me. She has good days and bad days. I try to be patient and understanding, but I really don’t know what to do sometimes. Needless to say, the day of the surgery was a bad day for both of us. We almost didn’t proceed with it. The hardest part was when Ben’s little fingers loosened their grip around Pam’s index finger when they sedated him. We felt our own heart bursting as the nurses took him away, not because we thought he might die, but that he might die without us. I knew I had to be strong for Pam, but I broke completely. Both of us did.


Since then, the only thing keeping us going is Cece. We have to keep a daily routine down for her. Otherwise, Pam and I would be two hot messes. We get up because she’s up, we eat because she has to eat, and we sleep because she sleeps. She also never let us forget to smile.


Cece knows Ben’s heart is sick, and knows he needs to have mom and dad at the hospital with him. She is aware that when mom and dad are not with her is because they are helping Ben get better and not out at the park with him. But she’s three and the jealous bug still lurks around, but not as frequent as one might anticipate, considering the amounts of time we spend at the hospital.


“Daddy! Whea you goin’?” She asked one day.


“I’m going to the hosp—”


“Ahh you goin’ to see Ben?”


“Yeah and then I’m going to work.”


“Is momma goin’ toooo?”


“Momma is staying here with you.”


“Daddy, can I come wit you? I ammm a big sistah.”


I racked my brain and tried frantically to come up with an excuse I hadn’t used yet. “You are the best big sister in the whole world, but if you make him a card like you did for momma I’ll bring it for him to see.”


“Oookay, daddy. I’ll make Ben theeee best card.”


She’s made about three cards since that day and all three can be found taped to Ben’s incubator. My office has about seven of her cards and our fridge is completely covered in cards she’s made for Pam. To anyone else it’s just scribbles and uneven lines. But to Pam and I Cece’s cards contains all the courage we need to get through the tough days.


Yesterday I stopped by Hallmark on my way home and got Cece her own card. There’s a bear on the front and when you open the card the bear opens his arms and it reads in big letters, “Lots of love and hugs.”


“Daddy, dis is the best card!” She said hugging me.


“You like it?”


“Daddy, dis bear is like Meeestah Fuzzs.”


“Yeah, that’s Mr. Fuzzs’s brother, Mister…… Fluff.”


“Meeestah Fluuuuff?”


“Yeah, why don’t you go put it next to Mr. Fuzz so he can see his brother.”


“Daddy, I haff a bwother jus like Meestah Fuzzs!”


I also got Pam a card. I wrote a small note inside and gave it to her. She was a little surprised to get a card. She didn’t open right away. She said she would read it later. I didn’t see when she finally read it, but she cuddled closer to me that night.


When I felt her moving near me, I immediately turned towards her and instinctively placed my arms around her. She settled her head under my chin and for a few brief seconds it felt like it was spring outside and not a bitter fall night.


“Should we be there with him?” She asked, her voice a notch above a whisper.


“With Ben?”


“Yeah… He’s all alone,” she said and released a frustrated sigh.


Yes, we should be there, I thought to myself. I wanted to be there. But we had been alternating shifts at the hospital and we had gotten very little sleep since Ben's surgery. “I think he is better off having parents that are awake with him during the day.” I said, hoping my words made sense, because my brain really wasn’t functioning properly.


There was a hitch in her breath, and I could hear the beginning of her tears. “What if something happens?”


I wished she hadn’t asked that because she materialized my greatest fear. “They will call us if something does happen.”


After a moment she said, “He should be here.”


“Yes, he should be right here,” I agreed, patting my chest.


“I want him home.”


“Me too.”


Our conversation didn’t go beyond that. The silence that reigned afterward was comforting. We are good at silence. I think we speak better when our conversations are devoid of words. I understand her more from the way her eyes lingered on me than I ever could from words she strung in sentences


I’m just outside Ben’s CVICU room summing up the courage to go through the doors. Pam’s is there with him. I can see her through the small glass window. I think she’s singing to him, like she does with Cece before she puts her to bed. (Although I call it singing, nothing really comes out. It’s just a rushed whisper she intones of a lullaby.)


She couldn’t wait to see him. The wires and the tubes and everything Ben’s attached to doesn’t bother her one bit. He’s still Ben to her. He’s still her little boy. And the same holds true for me, but I can’t seem to get over his current condition. It’s just… I don’t want to see him like that.


I think I’ve been avoiding it long enough now.


I’m going in.


-Jim

*



*



It has been a hectic, busy, exciting, stressful, tiring, and sometimes dizzying past couple of weeks. You can probably deduce from my last post that Pam and I were pretty shaken up after Ben’s surgery (some of us more than others). I had a hard time facing Ben for a couple of days there. Pam began to wonder if I had fallen into some old habits, my old ways of “dealing” with stressful events in my life – avoidance. Sounds great, right? Never feel stress again…who wouldn’t want that?


Pam brought the issue to our doctor who referred us to a support group. I didn’t like the idea at first, but after the second meeting, I was in. I didn’t talk much, but listening to everyone else’s story helped me see that I wasn’t the only feeling the way I did.


But enough about that – it’s all water under the bridge.


Ben is recovering nicely and is back on an open crib without any of the tubes or wires or breathing cannulas (only monitors are attached to his chest). He takes all his feedings by mouth and is weighing a whopping seven pounds. That’s right; Big Bad Ben is back and ready to attack!


He is on a three hour feeding schedule, round-the-clock, which means we have kissed any hope of sleep good-bye. Pam pumps and nurses as much as she can and is at the hospital with Cece 85% of her free time. Cece is our little miss helper with anything Ben related. When Ben is sleeping, she gives us updates every minute or so… “Momma, he’s squeeeekin’,” or “Momma, he’s eye’s ahh openin’!” She helps with the bottle during the feeding and has even “read” him a bedtime story complete with showing him the pictures! (“D’you see it Ben, d’you??)


The doctor thinks Ben will be ready to come home next week. We are very excited at the possibility, but it’s still only a possibility. We are holding ourselves tight, but our hearts are busting with the thought of having Ben finally home with us.


Consequently, Pam and I broke out in a little spontaneous moment of celebration when we got home that night. I went to the fridge in search of a lasagna to warm up for dinner, what I discovered, along with the lasagna, was a bottle of champagne that a client had given me a few months back; a bottle which I figured due to our hectic life would not be dusted off for many months from now.


I pulled the bottle out, but another reason began to emerge, unknown and unspoken to most, but equally important. In the midst of all of the chaos and craziness that these months had brought to our family, Pam and I had not taken a pause to celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary. Four years, can you believe it? That sunny day in Niagara Falls will forever serve as one of the more captivating memories in my overstuffed inbox of memorable times.


When I poured out the first glass, Pam thought the celebration was in reference to Ben: he is finally healthy, happy, and growing. And most certainly we were celebrating Ben. We were also celebrating Cece and how her attitude and happy-go-lucky-ready-for-anything nature was just right for the challenges we faced. We were celebrating the fact that we’re still alive, still mentally competent, and still happy after seven, wait make that nine, of the most difficult months we had to endure. Yes, we had reasons to celebrate!


But it was more than that.


Pam was the first to raise her glass. “To Ben coming home,” she said.


“To Ben.”


Our glasses clinked together and we took a long sip of the bubbly. It glided easily down my throat with a fresh, citrus finish.


“I’d like to propose another toast,” I said.


“Another toast?” Pam looked at me warily, but raised her glass nevertheless. “I am all for toasts today. Make it a good one, Babe.”


“I would like to make a toast for us. For the four wonderful years we’ve been married.”


The wheels began spinning in her head as she realized that a celebration was indeed called for…and maybe even longed for.


“Wow… It’s been four years, huh?”


“Four of the best years of my life.”


Her eyes began to glisten and a rosy flush appeared on her cheeks. “Best years of my life too,” she said.


“Here is to us,” I said raising my glass.


“To us.”


Our glasses clinked once again and down went the bubbly. I looked at Pam’s slightly flushed face and I felt so much love for her, deeper than anything I had felt. You know, we have encountered various obstacles in these four years: we fought, we laughed, we cried, but the health of our marriage, our relationship, and our love for one another has only grown stronger.


I try not to descend down memory lane, but today I feel like telling you guys a story…


When I met Pam (and fell in love with her) she was engaged. Not only that, but she had been with the guy for most of her teenage and adult life. He was a permanent fixture, no doubt, and I was... well, I was the other guy. In other words, I didn’t stand a chance. But we just clicked and everything about her was fascinating to me. I knew I had found someone that was designed perfectly just for me.


One day, years after, I told her how I felt and she turned me down. I took it hard, real hard. I moved away, tried to move-on, but fate brought me back to Scranton. Turns out, she never married the other guy, but I was too hurt to open myself to her again – I began dating someone else.


Let me tell you, it’s really hard to date someone while you’re in love with someone else. Long story short, Pam shook me out of my stupor with a confession that broke me to pieces. We began dating and the rest is history. Oh, funny little fact, when Pam and I got married, she was 5 months pregnant with Cece!


The reason why I’m telling you this is because being married to her for four (short) years is not something I take for granted. A celebration is indeed necessary. Lots of things happened that I didn’t mentioned above that could have possibly torn us apart...forever. Everyday I’m amazed that I got the girl in the end. Not only that, but that same girl gave me two amazing little gifts. And somehow, through all of the craziness that has swirled around our lives lately, our marriage has found an even better place than it had a year ago.
**

It’s late and we are spending the night at the hospital. They have a room just down from the NICU for parents of preemies to come up and spend a night with their baby before they come home. It’s a good practice run because we will have to deal with different issues with Ben that may require more than the average baby care. The nurses are just down the hall if we need anything, but it’s nice to have some time alone with our baby boy and…… our baby girl.


Cece is with us and is current asleep between Pam and I. She was very excited to have a sleep over at the hospital. Took us a little while to get her to sleep, but she surrendered after a few readings of How Many Kisses Do You Want Tonight?


Pam is nursing Ben right now and it doesn’t seem like he was fed just three hours ago. The boy is famished. It’s funny to see him so eager to eat. No wonder the kid is packing on the pounds – my future heavy weight champ!


All is peaceful and quiet (except for my typing). I’m looking forward to falling asleep to the sounds of a squeaky baby at our bedside, and hopefully it we’ll get our fill of it in the coming week (fingers crossed).



-Jim

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Ladies and gentleman, may I please have your attention…. Stop whatever you’re doing and listen to this very important, super exciting announcement…..This past Tuesday, the Halperts welcomed its littlest member home. That’s right; my main man, Benjamin “Big Bad Ben” James Halpert, is finally home! I’m sorry for not announcing this sooner…we are in major transition, as you might imagine, which means writing has taken a back seat, unfortunately.


Ben is doing very, very well and continues the pattern he established in the NICU – eat, sleep, sleep some more, eat again, and sometimes poop. The hums, beeps, and nerves of the NICU have been replaced by giggles and squeals and countless smiles to brighten our days…good stuff! He has been enjoying some good cuddle time with mom and big sister and is currently curled up next to me on the couch while mom and sis are grocery shopping. (It’s pretty hilarious to see how excited Cece gets when she goes to the grocery store with Pam. Every little outing for her is a grand adventure!!)


Ben is a very good baby. I know every parent says that about their kid, but Ben is just cool, calm, and collected. And trust me; this is not an easy title to hold when Cecelia “easy-as-it-goes” Halpert happens to be your big sister. We are literally surprised when he is upset about something (as if that is something babies are not known for!). While the rest of our world swirls about at the pace of a headless chicken on crystal meth, Ben doesn’t seem to notice, or care for that matter. He is as content as content can be…for now, at least, and we are going to enjoy it while it lasts!


Miss Cecelia is also doing very well. She was a little unsure of things when we first brought Ben home (I think we all were), but now she’s a pro! She keeps us smilin’…and laughing…and usually shaking our heads in bewilderment! The other day this girl came to our bed after we tucked her in saying she couldn’t sleep because her eyes wouldn’t close all the way.


“What do you mean, girl?” I asked her.


“Daddy, looooh,” she said squinting those big blue eyes of hers. “See? I don close’m!”


Pam and I just looked at each other and laughed. How does she come up with things like that? Pam insists she got it from me. But I have six words for her: government-created killer nano robot infection. Wondering what’s that all about? Yeah, Pam thought that disease up herself. It was a long, long time ago, but I still remember. So, where does Cece gets her wit from? It’s debatable.


Thankfully we had a cure for her little aliment - a big, warm cup of milk and a good dose of cuddle time with mom and dad. No eyes can remain open after that! She was down and out like a light. I can’t help but think….At three years old this little lady is inventing new diseases, I can’t begin to imagine what she will come up with at five, seven…thirteen!?


Wow, I’m getting ahead of myself here…


Anyways…..We had a little get-together yesterday to officially celebrate Ben’s home coming. Not everyone was able (or allowed) to visit him at the hospital, so we invited everyone to come and meet him. It was really nice to finally show him off, you know? My brothers and their families came, Pam’s aunts and uncles, my cousins and their kids…it was a little chaotic, but it was nice.


Pam’s dad also came. That was surprising to both of us. The whole time Ben was in the hospital, Bill came to visit him once. I know he and Helene don’t get along and I know he doesn’t want things to be awkward… I know, I get all that. But sometimes we need to act like grownups and put the past aside. Bill didn’t really need to be there for Ben…. He needed to be there for Pam.


Sadly, Pam has gotten used to not having her dad around. She has come to terms with the fact that he is living a different life; one that she’s has a small role in. This depressing conclusion didn’t come easy to her. She couldn’t admit it for a long time. She hoped that someday her parents would find their way back to one another and I think a small part of her still believes that. Hope dies last, right?


Bill didn’t want to stay at first, saying something about a prior commitment he needed to attend. Pam’s face immediately fell. To an outsider, she put on a happy facade. But I know all the subtle nuances of her face, I know each and every twitch and flicker that ever rippled across it. And I could clearly see all kinds of sad. That was when I decided to do something.


“Hey Bill,” I casually called him. “Do you want to come up with me? I need to change Ben’s diaper.”


He was reluctant, but I knew he wouldn’t say no. I know Bill’s done a lot of douch-y things, but he is a decent guy. “Sure.”


Once we were up in Ben’s nursery, I let the silence reign for a bit. I didn’t want to come right out and attack him. I knew his guard was up, it’s always up. I just watched him wander around the nursery, fingering the decorations and little pictures frames we have around.


“Did Pam paint this?” He asked. I was glad he was the first one to break the silence.


“Yeah, she did,” I said.


“It’s really something.”


I just nodded.


Then, through my periphery I watched him pick up a picture frame from atop Ben’s dresser. He looked at it intently, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. I turned back to Ben and focused on changing his diaper. He was almost falling asleep on the changer. Moments after, I heard Bill hesitantly shuffling his feet towards me. I fastened the traps on Ben’s new diaper and gave him a big kiss, square on his big belly, and lifted him to me.


“Is this Ben?” He asked, pointing at the picture.


“Yeah, that was him the day after he was born.”


“Wow, he...umm…”


“I know. He looks like a little baby alien,” I joked.


He chuckled and said, “I didn’t want to say because he’s my grandson, but yeah… He was really small, huh? Is that your wedding band around his wrist?”


“Yeah… crazy small, right?”


“Yeah,” he said looking at the picture, his gaze a few miles away. “You know Jim, I wanted to come and see you and Pammy.”


“Why didn’t you, Bill? Pam would have been really happy to have you there.”


“Honestly, Jim? Every time I come around I feel like an intruder.”


“Bill, you know that’s not true.”


He looked at me and said with a huge gush of air, “Well Helene thinks I’m—”


“I’m sorry, Bill. But I have to interrupt you right there,” I said and positioning Ben I little further up on my shoulder. “I know you and Helene have your differences, but you can’t let that consume your relationship with Pam. She’s your daughter.”


“I know I kno—”


“And we really went through tough times back there. We didn’t know if Ben was going to make it….” I said, clutching a little tighter to Ben. “Pam needed you… She really needed you there….”


He hung his head low and said, “I messed up big time, didn’t I?”


“I’m not going to lie to you….” I began, but didn’t have the heart to finish. I felt sorry for him. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know? You can make this better.”


“I don’t know where to begin,” he said defeated.


“You can start by staying through lunch,” I suggested.


He looked up at me and smiled. “Okay.”


He stayed until a minute after we had lunch. It’s a start. I’m not here to judge or cast any stone. I would hate to be in his shoes. He is a dad and I know it must kill him to be away from his kids. But yesterday was a turning point for him. He’s called Pam and the two of them have begun talking again. I hope the Bill I met when I started dating Pam makes a comeback.


I just heard Pam pull up on the driveway. I have to go help her unload the car. But before I go I just want to thank you for listening to me through these past months. And if you can take anything useful from my ranting, take this: life is a journey filled with lessons, hardships, heartaches, joys, celebrations and special moments that will ultimately shape who you are. The road will not always be smooth. Some of the challenges will test your courage, strengths, weaknesses, and faith. I can tell you that Pam and I somehow have found ourselves happier, healthier, and hopefully a wee bit wiser at the end of this journey than when we began.


These words might sound empty and maybe vain, but what I’m telling is from experience. Life is simple, it’s just not easy.


Pam is calling me now. I have to go.


-Jim

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Hmm, what to say, what to say…? First off, this is Pam and not Jim (Gasp!). I’m hacking his blog for the next hour or so while he “cooks” dinner. I had known about this blog for a while now, but I had yet to read a single entry…. that is until today. I’ve cried, I’ve laughed, and I’ve cried some more (What a roller coaster ride!). But I see that Jim’s last entry dates almost six months back. If you guys allow me, I would like to give you an update and maybe my perspective on a couple of things.


First things first, our little guy is as healthy as can be and continues to amaze us with his persistent growth. He is officially nine months and a few days old, but his adjusted age (based on his actual due date) puts him around six months developmentally. Ben “the beef cake” (as he is known) is just about 20 pounds and 8 ounces and measures approximately 27 inches long. Let me tell you, the boy is a formula eating champ, putting on an amazing display of back-to-back full bottle chugs every night. You think I’m kidding? I’m not!


The cool, calm, and collected Ben you were introduced to is long gone (I can hear Jim from the kitchen telling Ben to get out from under the table). He has proven himself to be quite mischievous. When Ben is quiet, something that happens less and less these days, he is probably venturing off to explore and get himself in trouble!


He still isn’t crawling, but he’s mastered the army crawl with great speed…and, boy does he love to be on the move! The kid is everywhere – crawling under the bouncy seat, wiggling his way down the hall, diving into the stacks of clothes, sneaking around the couch, and all points in between! And, oh yeah, don’t get in his way ‘cuz he’s not changing course. He’s also starting to pull up on chairs and tables and Jim thinks it’s possible that he will go from the army crawl to walking without ever doing a real crawl.


He also has teeth! Two to be exact and it’s the bottom two front teeth… adorable. He likes to show it off when he giggles which happens quite a bit these days, even with an ear infection. That’s right. We took him to the doctor for his check up and we came home with a prescription for antibiotics because Ben had infections in both ears! We had no idea he had ear infections because he never once acted fussy or troubled in any way by it. What a resilient guy!


The only thing that we are struggling with him that we didn’t struggle with Cece is the rice cereal feeds. We have recently started him on cereal (mixed with a few greens) and he hates it! Jim can sell him on anything. The other day he gave Ben half a lemon and the kid sucked the thing dry. (You should have seen the faces he made.) But when it comes to the cereal, there are no airplanes, funny faces, or Oscar winning performances that will win him over. I’m pretty sure that if Ben could speak, he would say something along the lines of, “Just what the……….do you think you’re putting in my mouth?!?!?!”


All in all, Ben is a joy and we can’t wait to see what he has in stores for us in the coming years. (Jim says lots of gray hairs!)


From one babe to the other…


Cece turned 4 last month (Where has time gone and why is it in such a hurry to get there!??). We can’t believe our baby girl is all grown up now! Well, I guess “all grown up” is a relative term – I guess grownups don’t put on singing shows for their parents while wearing a princess night grown like Cece did last night. And I guess most grownups don’t pout for half an hour because one of their party balloons floated away while unpacking the car. And I would have to say most grownups do not spend their evenings drawing pictures of their family, complete with rainbows, sunshine, smiley faces, and Daddy’s shaggy hair.


Cece continues to do really well with all of the comings and goings in our new, little world. She has not complained once about her wild little brother, though she definitely has had her moments of major need of attention and clinginess.


I got really worried about her during those crazy months. We expected the jealousy, but we didn’t expect the separation anxiety. Cece didn’t want anyone but me or Jim, which put a lot of stress on us. She also wanted to be carried most of the time and that really was not a viable option. Things got really bad when she began having crying episodes at night.


It was hard to see my child go through that. I was heartbroken. But things got better. A lot better. As my pregnancy became more manageable, we began to separate time just for her and we also made sure we didn’t go a day without seeing her. Even after Ben was born, we continued the “Cece day” tradition. It was hard to balance our time (with Ben in the hospital), but looking back, it was what kept Jim and I from completely falling apart. Cece gave us some sense of normalcy.


There are a lot of things I’ve kept to myself. But while reading Jim’s posts it is clear that I didn’t do a good job at it. One of the things I tried to keep from him was my guilt. I felt really guilty for a lot of things that happened. I know what you are thinking (I can hear your thoughts). Trust me, I know I had no control over the situation, I know it wasn’t my fault. I know all that…..now. Try telling that to a hormonal, pre-eclamptic pregnant lady. I was devastated. There was nothing Jim, the doctors, or the nurses could have said to change the way I felt.


I don’t feel like that anymore. Although, I still feel a small sting whenever I see the scar down Ben’s chest. The doctor says it will “fade” as he grows, hopefully the same will happen to this small bit of guilt I still carry with me.


I want to clear something up. I didn’t go crazy on the nurses the day Ben was born. I simply wanted to see him. (Was it too much to ask to see my newborn son? I think not). I only saw a glimpse of him in the delivery room before he was quickly taken to the NICU. If everyone hadn’t been so mum about my kind inquiries, I wouldn’t have imagined the worse. I thought they were trying to “protect” me or some stupid BS like that. To this day I still don’t know why I only saw Ben 24 hours after he was born.


Jim had his “crazy moments” too. (I’m not throwing him under the bus. I’m just trying to make a point here). One that stands out is when Ben’s heart rate dropped and they had to re-intubate him. (Jim grazes over the incident on the “What just happened?” post). According to the nurse’s report, Jim didn’t want to be leave the NICU and the hospital security had to literally carry him out. Aggressive, belligerent, and enraged are some words that they used to describe him. I know, that’s not Jim, but it’s true. I read the report.


Jim definitely had his ups and downs (Some of them I didn’t know about until I read the posts). But a “down” that clearly stands out was after Ben’s surgery. When I thought he hit rock bottom, he found a shovel and continued digging. He had a tough time being in the same room as Ben. He couldn’t look at him, he didn’t want to touch him and it worried me. He would go to the hospital, but he would stay outside. I would ask him to come in with me but he would always reply, “In a minute.” One day, I confronted him about it.


“It’s been about ten minutes and you’re still out here,” I said.


“I know. I’m going, I’m going.”


“Jim,” I said taking a seat next to him. “You’re not coming in, are you?”


He hung his head.


“But why?”


“I just can’t Pam. He’s… um…. He’s not… I can’t see him like that.”


“Like what?” I really didn’t understand. It wasn’t much different than the NICU.


“Like… sick? I don’t know,” he said in complete and utter defeat.


We went to a support group which helped him (and me) understand that it was okay to feel that way we felt. Part of the problem was that at some point we stopped talking to each other. We both went inward, thinking we would rather not trouble the other with our concerns. But like any other obstacle life has thrown at us, we surpassed it and our marriage is on a more solid foundation than it was one year ago.


I want to take some time here to talk about my husband, Jim. He talked a lot about me. Now it’s my turn (insert evil laugh).


I’m sure you can tell how dedicated he is to this little circus we call our family. He is up with the kids and he’s by their bedside (or crib side) when they go to sleep. He is human and I know the stress of two kids, a wife, and a full time job gets to him. But he never lets his frustrations affect the way he is with me or the kids. He always has time for one more piggy-back ride, one more bedtime story, and one more cookie monster impression.


Pickles, I love you and I couldn’t imagine anyone else I would rather take this journey with. Thank you for being the most loving husband and the most fun-loving dad. Also, I knew it was you who convinced my dad to stay at Ben’s party and for that, I love you more.


Jim is calling me – dinner’s ready. I hope you guys like the update. I’m not sure if there will be more in the near future. But who knows…


Take care,
Pam