The Ticket
This is the story of what will likely be Joseph's earliest memory he will ever retain.
In the days following Ben's birth, things were a little hectic. Ben was very small. He weighed five and a half pounds at birth and lost a half a pound while in the hospital. If he had lost any more weight, he would have been admitted to the hospital for being so small. This caused us some concern.
On top of that, he was very jaundiced. We were able to get a bili-blanket driven up from Eugene to help drive his bilirubin count down. The bili-blanket is actually a small pad attached to a tube that houses optic fibers. The flexible tube is about three feet long and is attached to a small unit that houses a blue light. The light travels through the optic fibers out of the pad and directly onto the infant's skin where it will break down the bilirubin. The infant should be in direct contact with the pad 24 hours a day with the exception of diaper changes and baths. Treatment lasts a few days or more.
For the mother, this means that you need to pick a single spot in the house that you will not move from for the next few days, as moving the source unit is not advised while the light is hot, and waiting for the light to cool down can take up to a half hour. This drove Denise a little stir crazy. The night before my mother flew into town, Denise cried as she desperately called older mothers in the ward so that she could take a break while I took care of the kids. It was heartbreaking to watch, and I was so grateful when Heidi Neuffer answered the call and came over to hold little Ben while I put the kids to bed and Denise took a shower.
The next morning, I readied the kids to make the drive to Eugene to pick up my mother, and her extra pair of hands. I had made every effort to be on time, but each time I thought I was on my way out the door, something came up, and another few minutes were lost to another important task. Finally, when all the kids were buckled in the car and I pulled out of the driveway, I looked down and saw that I needed gas. Now I was going to be late. I hate being late. Fortunately for me, the drive to the Eugene airport, along old Highway 99 is rarely patrolled outside of the small towns every few miles, and I'm not a shy driver. I was frustrated, but I'd be able to make up some of the time.
There isn't a direct route from our side of town to Highway 99. Either you travel south of town for 10 miles before you take a side road to catch the highway (the route we prefer now), or you go downtown and catch the highway as it passes through the heart of Corvallis (the route I took this night). I took one of the main roads (speed limit: 45 mph) across the river and took a long turn onto 3rd street (a 1-way street, speed limit: 25 mph). I'd have to drive a block on 3rd before I could swing over to 4th and head out of town.
As I turned on to 4th, I saw the flashing lights. I stopped and asked to kids to calm down, secretly thinking that if they were going crazy that the offices would have pity and ask me why I was going so fast. I could honestly reply that I was late picking up my mother who was coming in to town to help out with my days old newborn. The kids calmed right down and Officer Roach (his real name) never asked. I explained to the kids that daddy was driving too fast and the officer was helping me remember that its not safe to drive so fast. I explained that police officers are "good guys" and they are always trying to help everyone be happy obey the laws.
To this day, when Joseph thinks we (either Denise or I) are driving too fast, he asks us to slow down, and reminds us of the time that daddy got a ticket while we were picking up Nana. I'm glad that we were able to have a teaching moment that will last a lifetime, but somehow I wish Joseph could have chosen a different event as his first and earliest memory.
In the days following Ben's birth, things were a little hectic. Ben was very small. He weighed five and a half pounds at birth and lost a half a pound while in the hospital. If he had lost any more weight, he would have been admitted to the hospital for being so small. This caused us some concern.
On top of that, he was very jaundiced. We were able to get a bili-blanket driven up from Eugene to help drive his bilirubin count down. The bili-blanket is actually a small pad attached to a tube that houses optic fibers. The flexible tube is about three feet long and is attached to a small unit that houses a blue light. The light travels through the optic fibers out of the pad and directly onto the infant's skin where it will break down the bilirubin. The infant should be in direct contact with the pad 24 hours a day with the exception of diaper changes and baths. Treatment lasts a few days or more.
For the mother, this means that you need to pick a single spot in the house that you will not move from for the next few days, as moving the source unit is not advised while the light is hot, and waiting for the light to cool down can take up to a half hour. This drove Denise a little stir crazy. The night before my mother flew into town, Denise cried as she desperately called older mothers in the ward so that she could take a break while I took care of the kids. It was heartbreaking to watch, and I was so grateful when Heidi Neuffer answered the call and came over to hold little Ben while I put the kids to bed and Denise took a shower.
The next morning, I readied the kids to make the drive to Eugene to pick up my mother, and her extra pair of hands. I had made every effort to be on time, but each time I thought I was on my way out the door, something came up, and another few minutes were lost to another important task. Finally, when all the kids were buckled in the car and I pulled out of the driveway, I looked down and saw that I needed gas. Now I was going to be late. I hate being late. Fortunately for me, the drive to the Eugene airport, along old Highway 99 is rarely patrolled outside of the small towns every few miles, and I'm not a shy driver. I was frustrated, but I'd be able to make up some of the time.
There isn't a direct route from our side of town to Highway 99. Either you travel south of town for 10 miles before you take a side road to catch the highway (the route we prefer now), or you go downtown and catch the highway as it passes through the heart of Corvallis (the route I took this night). I took one of the main roads (speed limit: 45 mph) across the river and took a long turn onto 3rd street (a 1-way street, speed limit: 25 mph). I'd have to drive a block on 3rd before I could swing over to 4th and head out of town.
As I turned on to 4th, I saw the flashing lights. I stopped and asked to kids to calm down, secretly thinking that if they were going crazy that the offices would have pity and ask me why I was going so fast. I could honestly reply that I was late picking up my mother who was coming in to town to help out with my days old newborn. The kids calmed right down and Officer Roach (his real name) never asked. I explained to the kids that daddy was driving too fast and the officer was helping me remember that its not safe to drive so fast. I explained that police officers are "good guys" and they are always trying to help everyone be happy obey the laws.
To this day, when Joseph thinks we (either Denise or I) are driving too fast, he asks us to slow down, and reminds us of the time that daddy got a ticket while we were picking up Nana. I'm glad that we were able to have a teaching moment that will last a lifetime, but somehow I wish Joseph could have chosen a different event as his first and earliest memory.
Labels: Corvallis
posted by ronny at 20:56
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