Photo Extravaganza

Oliver is two weeks old today!

Having spent two weeks in the NICU, perspective should be easy to come by. Oliver has made steady progress and the doctors and nurses providing his care are consistantly positive about his prospects. We are surrounded by other little fighters, some of which are facing longer odds than our mini Joe Lewis. Not all babies have parents that come around often (or at all), and many parents that we do recognize look increasingly weary and sad.

We know we should consider ourselves among the lucky ones because we are confident our boy is going to make it. However, it certainly does not feel that way when Oliver cries in pain or experiences a drop in heart rate (Bradycardia) or a drop in oxygenation (desatting). Emotionally, we experience any lack of progress as a "setback" against Oliver's quest. Try as we might to intellectualize this experience, our guts are tied in knots.

Oliver is big and strong, but his gestational age at birth was just over 31 weeks and as of today he should still be facing 6 weeks in the womb. His size and his triumphant battle with collapsed lungs convinced everyone that he was ready to take on the world. As a result, he's been pushed a little farther than a typical preemie (if there is such a thing).

For example, Oliver was not quite ready for the bassinette and has been moved back into an incubator to make it easier for him to maintain his body temperature without expending too many calories. Intellectually, we understand this and want him to stay in the isolette as long as he needs but, emotionally, it feels like our little boy failed a critical test.

We are similarly anxious when it comes to his breathing assistance and his early attempts at bottle feeding. Oliver hovers ever-so-cose to having his nasal cannula removed but he hasn't quite made it over that final hump. As for feeding, the majority of his food is still delivered through the tube down his throat and we expect a slower-than-originally-expected transition to the bottle. Never mind that normal babies are not meant to use their lungs or their suckling instincts until they reach full maturity, this is not a normal baby! Our boy can breathe, he can eat, he can kick a soccer ball into the top corner of the net from 25 yards and he can play the violin, damn it!

As we celebrate Oliver's triumphant first two weeks, we find ourselves dwelling on the challenges he still faces. We made it this far by fighting for every day and every hour. We set the bar high and adjusted it higher at every milestone. We will continue refusing to accept anything short of perfection for our little guy. We beg your indulgence as we fret over every wrinkled forehead and each setback, real or imagined.

I know the day will come when young Oliver complains that his dad is too protective, that his dad won't stop reminding him of "all that we've been through." (My vocabulary is not robust enough to suggest the appropriate words to describe just how protective his mom will be!) In light of that, I would like to issue a blanket apology in advance to all the teachers and coaches that will be asked to participate in the challenging experience of raising Oliver the Great. We understand that every child is special, but this is OLIVER THE GIANT, Champion of Preemies, Future World Cup Hero, Editor of the New Yorker, Cures Cancer, Better Looking Than George Clooney and Volunteers to Save Orphans Around the World, Our Precious Little Baby Bird.

He sure has some handsome sideburns, doesn't he?

Birth + 13: Oliver Loves to Kangaroo!

Birth + 12: Fight the Power... and Mommy's First Diaper!

Birth + 12: A Monkey or a Bird?

There was much excitement on Saturday as we discovered that Oliver has progressed from isolette (incubator) to bassinette! This means that he has demonstrated the ability to regulate his body temperature without assistance and no longer needs to be confined to a controlled environment.

Continuing his steady march towards discharge, Oliver has started taking food from a bottle for at least two feedings per day. The picture below shows our little baby bird after Nurse Vanessa attempted an early bottle feeding.


He showed only passing interest on Saturday (why suck a bottle when you can have the food pumped directly in your stomach while you sleep?) but by Sunday he was suckling like a champion! Nurse Terri had him drinking fast and steady on Sunday night, and was quite impressed with his "dainty" burps. "Just like his father," I told her.

He continues to look strong and gain weight. If he masters the bottle feeding and shows he can breathe without the nasal cannula, he'll be quite near coming home. Is he too young to go trick-or-treating this year?

Birth + 9: One Happy Mommy!

This picture pretty much says it all. The mixture of joy and relief in Michele's eyes is matched in intensity only by the sheer contentment of little Oliver. Don't let go, Mommy, hold me right there... yea, that's the stuff!

In the picture, the two are engaged in something called "Kangaroo Care." This is where Michele holds Oliver (naked, except for his diaper) directly against her bare chest. In addition to creating one very jealous Daddy (the astute reader will ponder the object of his jealousy: mommy or baby?!), it is said to work wonders on the development of premature babies. Oliver certainly prefers it to being swaddled in the incubator... and just you try taking him out of Michele's arms!

The surprising news of the day is not that Michele loves holding Oliver or that Oliver loves being held -- we hold these things to be self-evident! The really big news is that the NICU doctors are thrilled with Oliver's progress and are predicting that he could come home within two weeks!

The thought that we might have our little fighter home and healthy by the end of October/early November leaves us both ecstatic and petrified. There is nothing more we want in the world and yet we are almost paralyzed with anxiety. (Well, OK, Daddy is paralyzed with anxiety and Mommy will soon attempt to slap some sense into Daddy.)

If this holds true and we all get to cheer for our victorious and dashing young fighter, we hope you all take a moment to appreciate the role you played in making it happen. To stay strong for Oliver during his has taken every ounce of our power and you have recharged us when we were most in need. You believed in us and the power of our love and you were a participant in a collective spirit that was stronger than the sum of its parts.

I'll stop now before I pen the lyrics to a Whitney Houston song. Besides, Mommy has quite a list of chores for Daddy... there's a lot to do before Oliver comes home!

Birth + 7: So Sweet

After a long and exciting day, the little bloke settled into his new isolette for an evening of restful sleep. He will never remember his struggle during these first few weeks of life, but his parents will never forget.

Birth + 7: Daddy's Turn

It was Daddy's turn to hold the little spider monkey today. The big bloke and the little bloke, together at last! After a solid hour of bonding and little extra time with mom, Oliver was moved into his new digs: a fully inclosed isolette where he is sheltered from the bustle of the NICU. Photos of the handsome one and his doting parents below:

Birth + 6: Mommy's Surprise

To our surprise and delight, Oliver was 'extubated' today... in other words, his breathing tube was removed and he was placed on a much gentler nasal cannula breathing device. Not only did he move a step closer to breathing unassisted, he was allowed to leave his incubator and rest in Mommy's arms for the first time! Mom and Oliver spent about an hour bonding over, I assume, their mutual love for Adoring Husband/Father.


Oliver attempted to verbalize his pleasure by singing the Carolina fight song but, being a little hoarse from the breathing tube, he sounded more like a baby pterodactyl. The tune was off and he had trouble enunciating all the words, but it was music to my ears nonetheless.

If all goes well, Daddy's turn comes tomorrow. I think I'm going to need a sleeping pill to get any rest tonight!

Birth + 6: Special Blue Lights

Oliver continues to make steady progress on the road to World Cup 2026. His lungs are growing stronger: his chest tubes have been removed and he is close to breathing on his own. He was even allowed to digest some of his mother's breast milk for the first time yesterday. Never in our lives have we longed for anything like we pine to hold our baby boy in our arms. That wonderful moment could come any day now.

Like the majority of premature babies, Oliver has jaundice. The treatment involves constant exposure to blue lights from below and above, which lends to the dreamlike state of our time with him. Here's a picture of the little spider monkey in full blue glory:

He's wearing an eye mask to protect his eyes (are they blue? mom hopes so!) from exposure to the lights and overstimulation from the blur of activity that surrounds him. It's just as well, since it also keeps him from watching his old man sobbing over his incubator. He's just so beautiful and so strong.

My friend Ed says that what makes a good fighter is the ability to take a punch. This may not be the sweet science, but Oliver certainly seems like a great fighter to me. I'm closing in on 31 years old and my inspiration is now a 6 day old baby who has yet to open his eyes. When he finally does, his pop will most likely still be crying alligator tears from his tired brown eyes.

Birth + 3: Oliver is coming on and Michele is coming home

What an incredible three days of joy and pain it has been as we have witnessed Oliver winning the fight for his life. Our little inspiration has battled two collapsed lungs and remains connected to a tangled web of tubes and wires, but his spirit is soaring and his prognosis is better than ever.

He gave us a scare yesterday when his doctors revealed that they suspected a cyst on one of his lungs that, if verified, would ultimately require surgical intervention. He took his first trip of his life when he was taken for a CT scan to further investigate the cyst. NYU has an incredible neonatal team and one of the most accomplished pediatric lung surgeons in the world, so we could not have imagined a better team to make the diagnosis.

Dr. Kim Williams (the neonatologist who has been directly responsible for his case) came by to give us the news several hours later as we were standing over his incubator admiring his beautiful black hair. Dr. Williams has a soft manner and a delicate, precise voice that almost always sets us at ease. She speaks carefully and pronounces every word with precision in an accent that sounds vaguely Jamaican. We have found comfort in her manner and looked forward to her words.

This time however, she began with "the good news is..." and I could feel my body on the verge of disintegration. Dr. Williams, if there is bad news -- really bad news -- you might as well kill me right now. I could sense Michele's bated breath and I hoped my last act could be holding her tight to brace her for the bad news. Dr. Williams drew us a picture (literally) of what was happening in Oliver's chest and explained that the suspected cyst was not a cyst after all, merely a pocket of air that had yet to be fully evacuated. She emphasized how well he was responding to treatment and helped us understand the course of action for the next couple days. "Any questions," she asked, and Michele spoke for both of us when she responded: "OK, give us the bad news now."

"There is no bad news," Dr. Williams said with her characteristic smile.

By the end of the day, Oliver had the tube in his right chest removed and was further down the path to recovery. It may take a wee bit longer than we had hoped, but he should have the second tube removed in the coming few days and should be off the ventilator in the next week. Every moment is an eternity as we long for opportunity to hold our baby and feel the life pulsing through his handsome body.

His mother, in pain from the c-section and weak from six weeks of bed rest, has shown the stamina of a marathon runner. The time since his birth has been the most difficult for me and only after Dr. William's assurance yesterday was I able to be by his side without choking on my tears. During this time my bruised and damaged wife has been my rock, comforting me and giving me the strength to remain standing. As always, her timing is impeccable... she's there when I need her the most.

If she checks out this morning, we may have her home for the first time since August. Our home is frozen in time and there is still much to do as we prepare for Oliver's arrival but the warmth of her soul will bring our home back to life. She is an angel, and the Speight men worship at her feet.

For all of you that have sent such thoughtful emails, thank you for the burst of inspiration. We read them on our Blackberries as they arrive and they provide us with laughter and the good kind of tears. Please understand that we want to respond to them all, but our focus right now is pretty narrow. Thank you, Team Oliver!

Boundless Love,

Oliver and his entourage

Day 42: Lookin' Good

It's late and I'm exhausted, but I wanted to share a few pictures of mother and Oliver. We hope you enjoy.

We haven't had the energy and time to respond to all your wonderful emails, but they've been read and enjoyed... and they've caused more than a few teary eyes. Keep 'em coming!

Day 41: The Greatest

King Oliver made his grand entrance into the world yesterday, exactly two months before his due date. He came kicking and yelping (more than can be said for his beloved Yankees) at 1:11 PM, weighing 4 lbs, 7 oz! Pink and plump with a head full of black hair, he's already a lady killer. (He was collecting phone numbers from cute young nurses before he ever made it to the NICU!)

The Queen Mum is recovering well from her c-section and should start walking (gingerly) today. Oliver, cleaned up but connected to a few too many tubes and wires, awaits her first visit in the NICU. I will send pictures of the mother and child reunion later this week.

The surgery was performed by Dr. Kristin Atkins, a softly confident doctor with the high-risk OB group at NYU. This woman spends her life delivering premature and high-risk babies. She and Michele developed something of a bond and her last words to us before preparing for the procedure were: "Stop it, you're going to make me cry, too!"

What a wonderful team of people they were, and what an honor it was to witness them at work. Dr. Atkins, Nurses Georgette and Ann were all on her team and on her side... these wonderful and diverse woman who have been part of Michele's care for the past six weeks and, like all of us, were attracted to Michele's grace and tenderness. Good people seem to find other good people.

The next few weeks of Oliver's life will be delicate and critical. He was not able to breathe without assistance due to a pneumothorax on both lungs. This is a relatively common condition for preemies where air pockets develop that put pressure on the lungs, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. He has tubes in his chest that allow the pockets to drain and the lungs to repair themselves. If that happens (and it should), he will be just fine. (The NICU doctors said this will not prevent him from being the first American striker to make the Arsenal starting team.) We should know more on Friday about the state of the air pockets (hopefully the tubes come out then) and the impact of this condition on the brain. Based on his strong blood pressure, heart rate and oxygen levels through his first hours, the doctors are confident that his brain should be fine. If all goes well, he could come off the ventilator as early as Sunday. However, he'll remain in the NICU for the better part of the next two months.

Oliver has a collection of nine tubes, wires and probes connected to his little (but not THAT little) body. At least as important as any of those is the invisible but real connection between his soul and the collective soul of his parents, friends and family. The handsome devil has made it this far on the back of Team Oliver's deep love and our strong will... let's carry him over this latest hump.

There is so much more I want to say, but I must get back to the hospital. Last night was the first in 6 weeks that I was not able to sleep in my beloved vinyl chair next to my darling wife and inspiring child... I miss them both terribly.


Love,

Oliver, Michele and Charlie