Unfortunately, none of this is new for us.
Three months. That's how long Carter required oxygen to stay alive.
Our youngest son, Carter, was born ten weeks early due to placenta previa and a concealed placental abruption; I was bleeding internally. He was delivered via emergency cesarean and we spent a total of four months in the hospital before we could bring him home.
One of the issues Carter was born with was 'Respiratory Distress Syndrome', also known as 'Hyaline Membrane Disease'; his lungs didn't have enough surfactant to keep them fully expanded and prevent them from collapsing.
Surfactant is naturally found in our lungs; a baby born without enough of this 'foamy stuff' is classified as having 'Respiratory Distress Syndrome', usually within the first 24 hours after birth, and will usually require some level of oxygen therapy. In Carter's case, he was placed on a ventilator at 30 minutes of age.
'Bronchopulmonary Dysplasia', also known as 'Chronic Lung Disease', is when the lung tissue is damaged.
Being born premature isn't what causes BPD; babies aren't born with Bronchopulmonary Dysplasia.
BPD is usually due to mechanical ventilation or long-term use of oxygen.
In Carter's case, he was smacked with a trifecta. In addition to having Respiratory Distress Syndrome, he also had a 'Patent Ductus Arteriosis', which is a heart defect where a blood vessel connects the right and left sides of the heart, when it should be closed.
The third issue was that Carter had Central Sleep Apnoea, which meant that, when he fell asleep, the messages from his brain to his lungs would cease and his lungs would stop working.
Usually, any one of these issues would mean mechanical ventilation and/or a long-term need for oxygen.
The day before Carter was due to be transferred to a hospital in our home town, he began to have trouble breathing and was moved back into intensive care.
His transfer was called off and John was already 5 hours into the drive home with our older two children; we were devastated.
I remember breaking down and falling into a heap outside the NICU.
Two young men stopped to check I was okay before walking into the hospital. I sat in my tears, and my fear, and my frustration, and loneliness for no more than 5 minutes before another man approached me; he was one of the dads from the NICU. He offered to sit with me.. call someone.. buy me a coffee.. before he asked if he could pray for us.
I'm not a religious person by any means, but my baby was being put on life support and I was alone and scared.
Let me tell you, that wonderful man changed how I decided to approach that situation.
Later that night, we learnt that Carter had 'Respiratory Syncytial Virus', or 'RSV', which is, essentially, a cold. Carter was on life support because of the common cold.
We were told to brace ourselves. Carter was deteriorating fast.
John turned around and came straight back, we packed up the older two kids and my step-mum flew from Melbourne to Sydney to pick them up, and then flew back with them. We didn't know how the next few days would pan out and we needed to be with Carter.
Carter was moved into isolation. We called it 'the cupboard'.
He had a NICU nurse at his cot-side 24 hours a day and John and I only left to nap, eat and shower. It was, hands down, the scariest time of my entire life.
For the next three years, Carter would catch colds, he'd get croup, he'd be hospitalised, put on oxygen, given steroids. And then the week before his third birthday, Covid-19 hit the Bay of Plenty, where we now live, in New Zealand.
The Coronavirus would likely kill Carter.
We took the kids out of school, stopped all their extra curricular activities, and basically went into our own little 'lockdown'.
We were prepared. We knew it would reach New Zealand and we knew what that would mean to keep ourselves, our older children, and Carter, safe.
Isolation wasn't new to us.
Being mindful of possible cross-contamination wasn't new to us.
Living in our own little bubble wasn't new to us.
When our children became distressed about being away from their friends, our extended family, and their teachers, we gently reminded them of how sick Carter gets. We reminded them of how weak his lungs are. We reminded them that we needed to protect each other.
John and I made a plan of attack for grocery shopping -- he'd shop, I'd wash all the groceries in hot soapy water in our driveway while he showered, leaving anything which couldn't be washed, in a tub outside for a few days. We'd clean the inside and outside of the car, being sure to wash clothes and shopping bags immediately and clean any other surface which could possibly be a spot for cross-contamination; door knobs, keys, bank card, phone, shoes, washing machine, shower taps.
We knew this stuff, inside out, because it was hammered into us every single moment in that NICU.
'Ooops, touch your face did you?.. Hand sanitiser!'
'Touch your phone?.. Hand sanitiser!"
'Drop that blanket on the floor for two seconds? Yeah, nah.. get a clean one.' This was our reality long after Carter left the hospital. It seems silly. 'What are the chances?'.. right?
It only takes a second.
It only takes one tiny little itch of the nose or check of your phone. Having a child with Bronchopulmonary Dysplasia is scary.
Just as having a child with Asthma, Heart Disease, Diabetes, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease, an Autoimmune disease, a Suppressed immune system, in addition to so many other illnesses which put people at risk when it comes to Covid-19, is scary.
And I guarantee you, every parent or caregiver who has a child with one of these illnesses has truly felt fear and heartbreak because, we had to find out our kids were sick somehow and, I'm telling you, it was one of the scariest moments of our entire life.
These lockdowns we're experiencing around the globe, they're not about Government power.
They're about keeping people safe. They're about keeping people alive. They're about keeping as many people as possible out of the hospitals, so our health care providers have a better chance of saving those affected.
I share this because we've lived it, every day, for the past three years.
Stay at home. Please. Just stay at home.
Erin Michele Thomson ∙ Tauranga Photographer ∙ info@erinmichele.co.nz
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