should have brought my boots

I should have brought my new, hip boots that I purchased about a month ago. Not because it's getting deep in here, but because I need them to give me the strength I need to get things taken care of, the right way, for Jackson.
Jack had a very good day on Wednesday, except for the little fact that he isn't getting close to his required caloric intake per his nutritionist. He sat with me on the bench and played with blocks and read books. Jack even threw his toys and pacifiers and was delighted every time he made a lovely pile on the hospital room floor . He was making sounds and sort-of talking to the television. However, the House Physician, and GI Fellow wanted to send Jack home. I couldn't believe it! I actually lost all control and, from exhaustion and stress, cried terribly while speaking with the two House Physicians. 
It all started when the Social Worker came in to help me find lodging overnight so Jack could make his clinic appointments today! I was like, "Jack's getting discharged? He isn't ready. And I'm not staying overnight in town to make clinic appointments when Jack is so sick. He's been vomiting again. I'll just reschedule! He isn't ready to go home." This is what led to two House Physicians coming into my room, one being very blunt and partially harsh, telling me that Jack will 'spit up' because his mucus is causing his gag reflex to trigger and he isn't truly vomiting. That I should 'expect' him to continue to 'spit-up' for a while more and he can't stay until he's completely healthy. I, of course, while trying to choke back tears of stress and utter frustration, am trying to explain that Jack is special needs, he isn't getting even close to the calories he needs, he's losing some with each vomit, he's obviously having some sort of problem, he isn't spitting-up but actually vomiting, his stomach isn't ready for home, he's been failure to thrive since birth, he needs to be getting close to his caloric intake so I know he'll be on the mend, etc. etc. etc. and they finally said, we'll have the GI Fellow come in and talk to you. I, of course, am so frustrated with the GI Fellow by now, because he doesn't seem to know and understand Jack's history, and keeps shooting out numbers to me ("yah, you're a Dr., now start maturing!"), only want the GI Attending. Thank God, He heard my cries. The GI Attending came in and we had a talk for about 30 minutes.

The GI Attending, who is a colleague of Jack's GI, Dr. Weymann, can clearly see that Jack isn't ready to go home yet. The rate was slowed down (the House Physicians wanted to put Jack up to his normal rate and 'see how he did over the next couple of hours'), an antibiotic was prescribed in case Jack had a sinus infection, and an understanding that "Jack will let us know when he's ready" came out of her mouth. There is also still concern for pneumonia. This Dr. understood Jack's history, that his gut moves slow, he can't handle losing formula too often becuase he'll start to suffer. . .No nausea medication should be given. It may constipate Jack. We DO NOT want that. Continue the feeds even if he vomits.

Fast forward to 11:00pm. Jack has been fussy for about an hour. The Tech is taking his vitals. He is fussing and crying. Next thing we know, Jack vomits a large projectile vomit. I am pleased that someone saw it. It was, indeed, a vomit. A nurse informs me that I am to 'catch' it in a basin next time so it can be measured and the consistency can be seen.

Fast forward to two more instances in the middle of the night. I catch vomit both times and I feel myself hopping up and down with my arms high above my head, so proud of my accomplishment. Both times, Jack was fussing for about an hour, as if his belly was bothering him. 1st time, about an ounce. 2nd time, about an ounce. No mucus. Only formula and very thin.

Fast forward to Thursday morning. Jack wakes up, fussing around 7:30am. "Oh, Jack. Thank you for letting me sleep for 3 hours!" He's moaning and eventually starts to cry. I end up holding him on my lap again. This time, however, he rests his head on my shoulder and cuddles. "Bad sign, Jack doesn't feel well again." I'm sure to tell the House Physician when she comes in (who in turn tells me, "Jack is getting around 66 kilocalories/kilogram, so he's doing very well," and then I'm like, "but that's only half of what he should be getting, which is around 120 kilocalories/kilogram," and she's like, "he should only be getting 80-85 kilocalories/kilogram, 0ver 100 would be for catch-up for a newborn, and I'm like, "his Nutritionist has him on a very strict diet to promote continued growth," and she's like, "oh, his Nutritionist." I ended up laying Jack back in his bed because he was so fussy, and was coughing while I was holding the basin, hoping to make a 'catch'!. Well. . .shortly after, Jack started to blow! I missed the first portion but caught most of the rest. Again, about an ounce. This includes all of his morning meds he was given 20 minutes before.

Jack is now laying in bed, dosing, or just staring off into space, as I await the GI Attending