The beginning of the end

Tuesday, November 20th

I have an appointment today with my O.B., so I figure I can swing by the hospital when I'm finished. My mom and I drive the 10 miles to my Doctor's office. While I'm driving, I get a call from the Neonatologist. He informs me that they suspect Molly has pneumonia, that they're starting her on a round of antibiotics. He sounds calm on the phone, but I can't help but notice an underlying worry in his voice.

We arrive at my O.B.'s office, finish the appointment, and make our way to the NICU. After scrubbing down, we walk into the room. Molly's incubator is the first one as you come into the NICU but I can't see her. There are doctor's and nurses around her bed, bustling back and forth from the monitors. 

A feeling of absolute dread enters my stomach. 

The Neonatologist spots me as I enter and rushes over. He quickly tells me the problem but I don't think I hear him right. All I can make out is "septic shock" and "touch and go". I glance at my Molly and fight back the tears. And then the thought crosses my mind, why am I fighting the tears? The floodgates open and I can't see straight. Its all I can do to not scoop her up. I don't know a lot about septic shock, but I know enough. 

The nurse comes over and puts her arms around me. I cry all the more. She offers me a box of tissues and says she will get us a room next to the NICU, so we can be close by. That's when I know this is serious. 

The rest of the day is a haze. Tyler comes from work. Specialists run test after test. Molly's heart rate jumps to 250. They ask us to step out as they place a different respirator. The doctors continue to give us updates, but it's all the same.

It doesn't look good.

And all the while I feel like I'm falling, not knowing when I'm going to hit the ground.