Little Hero

                  Caring for a newborn is a demanding job as it is. But when the baby
                  arrives 12 weeks premature, the going can get really tough. CHAN
                  LILIAN shares her experiences of coping with baby Vincent, born
                  with chronic lung disease, who has pulled through one hurdle after
                  another. 

                  BORN in the wee hours of Sept. 24 last year, Vincent Loh Yet Aun’s
                  arrival has brought so much joy to our family. He is one lucky babe
                  because he has three adoring big brothers and parents who have learnt to
                  love beyond boundaries. Over the last six months, Vincent has grown into
                  a chubby, adorable baby. 

                  I should have been the happiest mum on earth, if things were all rosy and
                  smooth going. But Vincent was born 28 weeks pre-term, weighing in at
                  1.45kg. He has pulled through many hurdles since. Many pre-term babies
                  would have gone through similar hurdles, but I wonder how many mothers
                  have witnessed their little babies stop breathing in front of their eyes, not
                  once or twice but many times. 

                  I could cope when he had apnea spells in the first month when his brain
                  forgot to tell his lungs to breathe. I would happily tickle his soles and
                  tap on his incubator to wake him up.
                   It became a challenge for me to detect an
                  apnea spell coming and hide these spells so that the nurses would not
                  record them for the doctor's reference. 

                  I could cope when he gagged and stopped breathing two days after he
                  returned home from hospital when he was two months old. Giving
                  cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) to him was part and parcel of caring
                  for a pre-term baby. 

                  I could still cope when I saw my little chubby, pink baby turn blue and
                  sometimes black when he was agitated. Many times, I was alone with him
                  and I would put him down in bed and start thumping his chest until his
                  breathing returned to normal. 

                  I was never afraid whenever he had such spells even though his eyes would
                  glaze over and he looked like a zombie in horror movies. I was still able to
                  joke when his tongue sort of rolled out of his lips. I had the courage to face
                  these frightening situations because I thought he would overcome them as
                  he grew bigger. 

                  But what really shook me up was when, last month, Vincent stopped
                  breathing and turned white and limp right in front of the doctor. Looking
                  back, I wonder how I could still remain level-headed enough to help the
                  nurses search for the resuscitator to revive him. 

                  I called his name and stroked his soles to bring him back to consciousness.
                  For a fleeting moment, I felt the fear of losing him, but deep in my heart I
                  knew that my tiny hero would not quit. He had so much love and security
                  from his brothers and parents waiting for him. I was confident that baby
                  Vincent would endure all the pain and discomfort that he was subjected to.
                  Baby Vincent would continue his brave journey to grow into another spoilt
                  brat of mine. 

                  Just when I thought things were going smoothly and I had finally come to
                  grips with the ups and downs of taking care of a premature baby with BPD
                  (Broncho Pulmonary Dysplasia or chronic lung disease), we were dealt
                  another blow. 

                  Vincent was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension a few weeks ago.
                  (Pulmonary hypertension is a rare blood vessel disorder of the lung in
                  which the pressure in the pulmonary artery – the blood vessel that leads
                  from the heart to the lungs – rises above normal levels and may become
                  life threatening.) 

                  The neonatologist treating Vincent told me that dealing with a baby like
                  Vincent could be a long, slow process. At times, it could be a very lonely
                  journey. I could not agree more. There are times when the only persons I
                  want to talk with are those who can converse with me in languages like
                  SPO2, FIO2, respiration rate, ventilator rate, bronchospasm, CBC, PDA,
                  ROP, NEC, etc. 

                  I find solace in the Internet where I can surf to gain more medical
                  knowledge and get connected with other parents dealing with BPD.
                  Vincent's doctor joked that I could qualify to go to medical school with the
                  amount of information and materials I have to digest. 

                  Based on the information given by a few paediatricians whom I have
                  spoken to, I am sure there must be some parents who have gone through
                  what I am going through. In the meantime, I shall take each day as it
                  comes. I pray that my baby Vincent will go on braving every obstacle –
                  come what may.

                  Taken from The Star