Liza finally has her Crew!

Hello all, this is Matt and I have been granted the special honor of being this week's "guest writer" to Liza's blog. I told her that I would be sure to include a number of typos and other errors so that I don't actually compete with her writing abilities. So if you find any, just know that it was just one more way I am trying to be a good husband. Before I get started, I want to thank everyone who has been there to help us get to this point. We have had help from anyone and everyone and it has made all the difference.

So, onto the reason why I am writing this blog post . . . Liza doesn't remember a thing. You will have to excuse the length and detail of this post. Liza not only wants me to tell what happened, but she also wants me to include such detail that it will serve as a record and reminder for the next time she says she wants to try for a little girl.

On Wednesday night I was working late trying to finalize a big presentation for Thursday. Liza and her mom were at home with the boys and just as BYU was about to come up with a huge win against UNLV (I was listening on the radio), I got a call from Liza telling me her water broke. Her mom rushed Liza to the hospital where I was then waiting and we headed up to the labor and delivery. We were all pretty calm at that point knowing that it was time, but feeling pretty dang good that we made it to 35 weeks and 5 days and we thought we were home free. When they took us to triage the nurse hooked up the baby heart monitor, only she couldn't find a heart beat. She changed the position on the monitor about 4 times trying to find something. Liza, Leslie (Liza's mom) and I all looked on knowing exactly what was happening since we had been in the hospital for two weeks and she never had a problem finding the heart beat. The nurse finally found a faint heartbeat of about 70 beats per minute (it is supposed to be between 120-160).

She left the room to alert everyone of what was going on and told them to prep for immediate surgery. The next thing we know about 4 other people invaded the room, including the on call doctor, two nurses, and the anesthesiologist, who happened to be Ryan Huffman from our ward. As an aside, Liza had previously secretly expressed her hope that no one from our ward be in the OR (we have lots of doctors in our ward), especially after the verbal abuse she dished out to the last anesthesiologist who took just a minute too long to get her that spinal. It ended up being a great blessing to have Ryan in the room, as he was a familiar face that helped keep Liza calm when everything was chaotic and I wasn't able to be there with her.

Anyway, back to the triage room. They brought in a mobile ultrasound machine to check her, but they couldn't see what was causing the problem, so they took her immediately to the OR for what her doctor has dubbed a "splash and dash" C-section, referring to the hurried manner of applying the iodine for surgery prep. As we headed to the OR, they handed me all the scrubs, facemasks, etc. but told me I had to wait outside the room on a chair until they were ready to get me. The chair was a little down the hallway where I couldn't see what was happening. I felt like a little boy that had to go to timeout or something. I never went to the chair, instead I stood at the door of the OR looking on through the window and that is as close as they let me throughout the surgery. I could only hear what they were saying as someone would run in or out of the room opening the door for just a second or two. So here is what I saw and heard from the window:

As they wheeled her in to the OR, it was pretty chaotic. They took the mobile ultrasound unit with them and tried to keep tabs on the heartbeat. The last thing Liza remembers is that they explained that they were going to try to get the baby's heart rate up to buy enough time to get a spinal started. About two seconds later the on call doctor told Dr. Huffman, "we are out of time, put her under now." Apparently the heart rate got down to about 40 and the doctor decided they couldn't wait, so Liza just got general anesthesia.

Just as they were about to start the surgery, Liza's doctor (Dr. Harris) rushed through the door from the prep area to where I was and the on-call doctor came out to meet her and made it clear to Dr. Harris that there was no time to waste. They rushed back in together and started the surgery. It was all a blur. I have been able to sit next to Liza and hold her hand the last two times we did this, but they never let me in for this one. I could see a little through the window every time a doctor would move out of the way. In the rush of it all, the baby got a little scrape from the scalpel as they sliced Liza open (nothing a little bandage can't take care of).

They opened her up, grabbed the baby out and plopped him on her lap trying to clear his airway. After a couple of attempts she gave up and handed him to the NICU team that was there waiting to receive him. At this point, my attention shifted to the baby, as I knew Liza was in good hands and was off in "la la land" dreaming of all the fun things she was going to do finally off of bedrest.

The baby, Crew, didn't look good. He was blue and lifeless. Sometime between the last ultrasound and his delivery, his heart had stopped beating and he wasn't breathing. They bagged him immediately as they tried to get the oxygen in flowing. They continued to work on him, but all I could see was one of his feet and a little of his leg, which continued to be blue and lifeless. I finally stopped looking. Because I wasn't in the room when they were doing the final ultrasounds, etc. I didn't know if the heart had stopped 5 minutes ago, or one minute ago.

I didn't know how resilient these babies can be, so after a minute or two out of the womb and still no signs of life, I thought it was over and I just paced back and forth in that hallway in shock. I would peer in every once in a while but I couldn't see what was going on. They kept working on him, and kept bagging him, and after a few minutes they got him stabilized. They opened the door and told me to look in at my new baby, who was now breathing and he was nice and red. They told me that they were able to get his heart started after only a minute and he started breathing on his own after two minutes. That still seemed scary to me, but he looked a lot better than he did just a few minutes earlier. They told me they were going to take him to the NICU and continue doing some tests.

They did a series of tests. The most important test was the blood gas test, which they did three times (once from the cord blood, once right when he got to the NICU and once a few hours later). Apparently the cord blood test was really low and really bad, his next test was still too low, but it showed that his body was working to stabilize things, and the third one showed that his body was progressing and his numbers were no longer low. Apparently the blood gas test can help the doctors understand or at least guess how long the baby had been in distress and how long he had been oxygen deprived. Based on the tests, they estimate that he had been oxygen deprived for at least 10 minutes.

In the NICU things were calmer. They put him on a c-pap to help him breath, but he started looking better and better. The on-call doctor who helped with the deliver came in and wanted them to put a "Cool Cap" on him, which is a device that cool the brain and helps reduce the chances of brain damage. They consulted the charts and the neo-natologist and determined that Crew didn't meet all the requirements to get a Cool Cap, which I guess is a good thing. I stayed by his side for a while until they told me he was completely stable and I could go check on Liza. As I left, the nurse mentioned that because of the way Crew was breathing and reacting to their treatments he was considering Crew a low risk for long term effects.
After what seemed like forever, they finally let Liza come out of the OR where her mom and I were waiting in the recovery room. She was out of it and couldn't speak very well since she had been intubated when she was put under. I spared her the details, and just told her that the baby was fine and stable. Little did she know all the drama that had taken place. It wasn't until the middle of the night that she woke up enough for me to tell her what had happened, but by that time Crew had really progressed and everyone was VERY optimistic about his future.

By the next morning they had completely taken him off of any oxygen and he was getting ready to start trying to eat. They talked about doing a brain ultrasound and MRI to try to determine what kind of damage may have occurred, but because he was progressing so well, the neo-natologist decided it wasn't necessary because they would have had to put Crew under and he had already responded so well. The only complications that we know of right now is that he has a slight heart murmur, which they are going to continue to monitor and they will have us work with a developmental pediatrician over the next few years to track his development. As I mentioned, they consider him very low risk at this point, but they will still want to monitor his progress. For Liza and myself, whether there are some developmental challenges that lay in store or not, we are just happy to have another boy to add to the our family.

Amazingly, Crew has continued to progress and it is now Sunday morning, just 3.5 days after he was born and he is out of the NICU and we are getting ready to go home. For the first time, Liza and I get to bring a baby home with us. I think in the end, Crew just didn't want to feel left out. He knew that Carter and Mac came into this world with a little drama, so he wanted to upstage them all, which he definitely did, but then he decided to act like a true 36 weeker, and we are all headed home.

So, that is our story. Since Liza has used this blog to talk about everyone else, I have a thing or two to say about her. She has been through a lot over the last year or so. When we miscarried a little over a year ago it was pretty hard for her and it was a trying time. Then in July we thought for sure that she had miscarried again, but this Crew is a fighter and wasn't going to give up that easily. The last 7 weeks of bed rest have been a challenge, especially for someone like Liza who always has to be doing something and can't ever rest. She has been a good sport and has let everyone else take care of her, which is hard for her to do, but it has all paid off in the end. She is an amazing mom and an amazing person and I am lucky she hasn't replaced me yet.

So from all of us in room 3427 (Liza, Matt and Crew) we are checking out and off to the next phase . . . life at home with Carter and Mac. Wish us all luck, keeping Carter and Mac from smothering the baby may be the biggest challenge of all. They are pretty excited to finally have him home and have all sorts of Star Wars knowledge to begin to teach this young "Baby Yoda" as they have decided to call him. For the rest of us, we will stick with the name Dylan Crew Richards (born 1/6/10, 6lbs 3 ounces).

Max Hall Loves Us

My boys' (Matt included) favorite Christmas present:

Doing the Haka.



We sent them to Frank and Tracy's right after. They probably spent the next 3 hours tackling eachother. Sorry, guys.

A letter to my future self

to be opened in one month.

(Me and the boys mopping in the rental house last year. One of their favorite chores--seriously.)

When I was working for Organize Magazine, I remember reading an article about a cleaning and organization guru called the FlyLady. She has a theory about doing mundane housekeeping tasks--instead dwelling on the drudgery and grumbling/cursing as you scrub, change your perspective. Choose to think of it as "blessing" your family. View those mundane chores as ways to show your family you love them.

So I tried that. Thinking sweet thoughts as I as I impaled my foot on the Darth Maul and Anakin that I just put away. Being zenlike and compassionate as I put away Matt's shoes and socks again; hung up towels; tackled the never-ending Mount Everest of laundry; coralled stray, miniscule Legos and convinced myself NOT to just pitch them (most of the time); picked up garbage that *almost* made it into the trash; wiped pee off of toilet seats (and the surrounding area--two boys); and then did it all again.

I'll admit it, compassion was oft replaced with murmuring and exhaustion.

In comparison, bedrest sounded like a welcome break.

I've been relegated to my bed or couch for almost 7 weeks now. To ensure I remained stationary, Matt deputized my boys. Mac took his role seriously. "Mom, sit DOWN!" he reprimanded over and over. "With your feet UP on the couch!" Carter, who already considered himself the head of rule patrol, would report each night to Matt if I had been disobedient.

Matt has done everything around here. I have done nothing. Seriously, nothing. He (and my mom and Chels while they were here) bring me food, pass the medicine, rub my back, and fan me and drop grapes in my mouth (not really, but Matt has offered). Then in the hospital on bedrest, I was so medicated that I needed help with even more basic things--standing up, walking to the bathroom, taking a shower.

I'm looking forward to doing things for myself again. But even more so, I am looking forward to doing things for others. Especially for my family.

I guess you could say I'm ready to work again. To do the mundane things that make their lives easier and that (whether they are aware of it or not) are mini manifestations of how much I love them. Like making Matt his favorite dinner when I know it has been a long day at work.

Picking Mac up from school (and Carter, if he will let me).

Straightening the house before Matt comes home so it at least looks like we are under control.

Packing lunches for Carter with a surprise treat.

Cleaning the playroom so it looks inviting, not frightening.

Having a cookie baking afternoon with the boys.

Checking for monsters in the closet at 2 am.

Folding socks so no one has to hunt for a match in the morning (hey, I can dream, right?).

Ensuring bathrooms are sanitary.

Putting away the Star Wars guys for the bajllionth time so the boys can find them when the urge for a light saber battle strikes.

In short, I'm looking forward to being useful. Needed. To having a healthy body that can work. To being not only self-sufficient but helpful.

So bring on the laundry, dishes, and cleaning.

And, future self, in a month when you are exhausted, when everything smells like sour milk or mustard-seed baby poop, when the house is crazy messy and 2 out of 3 children are crying, remember,

you wouldn't have it any other way.

Because it is a tradition

in our family to do major renovation projects right when we have a baby, my house is a construction zone.

For my Christmas present, Matt got me something I have been dreaming of for a year--beautiful new, dark hardwood floors. My entire house was tiled (seriously--it is even under the carpet upstairs) when we moved in, and we have talked about eventually replacing the purply-grayish blahness with hardwoods. Matt decided to suprise me and wrapped a broken piece of tile for my present. Yep, that's right--he took a hammer and chisel to our floor to make sure there was no going back and presented it to me in the hospital.

On Monday, Frank and Tracy took the boys and Matt worked with his cousin to chip out all of the tile and mortar in the living/dining room and front entry. Then he spent the entire day Tuesday cleaning up--sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, and dusting. Seriously, how did I get this guy? The wood comes in on Monday, and if I can hold off delivering for a few more days, it should be finished before the baby and I come home.

To add to the chaos, both of our bathtubs leaked this week, and we (Matt) had to rip out the soggy drywall. The home warranty should fix it all for a $100 service fee (keep your fingers crossed for me, will you?), so I will come home to beautiful floors AND a functioning jacuzzi.

Yeah, we like to pack it all in. Keeps life interesting.

Feliz Navidad!

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

This Christmas, I am grateful for many things, but my husband is on the tippy-tip-top of my list. This afternoon, he spontaneously decorated my hospital room with lit garlands, mini trees, and stockings. Thanks to a passle of 3M hooks, some heavy objects, and a few straight pins, it looks very festive!
It took 3mg of magnesium, 1 turbo shot of terbutaline, and some relaxation breathing, but we had a fun Christmas Eve. We wrote letters to Santa, requested some chocolate milk and cookies from the cafeteria for Mr. Claus and the reindeer, and ate Chili's fajitas (feliz navidad, remember?)
Then the boys laid on pillows and blankets to watch a movie and a nativity slideshow courtesy of my handy hubby. Earlier, I mentioned to him that it might be fun to have the boys come watch a Christmas show with me. Instead of just popping a DVD into the hospital's dismally small TV (I think it is killing Matt to watch non HD TV on such an archaic piece of technology), he rigged up a projector and a screen in my room, and we enjoyed a "popcorn movie night," one of my boys' favorite things.
Matt lugged all the presents to the hospital (including some hidden in the closet that are from you-know-who) so he can bring the boys over to open them in my room tomorrow morning. Hooray for Matt--he is a really REALLY good sport and has done everything he can think of to make this a memorable Christmas for our family.

Top 10 Reasons I am Glad I am (Still) on Bed Rest

This will go down as the longest blog post in history. But however long it takes you to read it, rest assured it took me 10 times longer to write it with a pulse oximeter taped to my finger.


Liza’s Top 10
10-Keeps me humble:

Heading into my fifth week of bed rest, I am now in the hospital and being pumped full of magnesium sulfate, a heavy duty drug that relaxes soft muscle tissue. It makes you feel (and look) pretty awful. The first day I was on it, Matt came into my room and said (in the most loving way possible), “Wow. Wow. You look like a druggie.” That was day one. I am now on day 3 of magnesium, and I just hobbled into the bathroom and when I saw the reflection in the mirror, I laughed out loud. For the record, Matt brought an HD video camera last night when he brought the boys to say hi, and NO, I will not be posting pictures (or video in HD) of my loveliness.

9-Kindness of strangers:

Here’s to random acts of kindness. My nurses have been wonderful—even offered a sponge bath when I couldn’t shower (I politely declined). When I was still at home, one neighbor whom I’ve only talked to twice found out that I was on bed rest. Having done it herself for months (yikes!), she started purchasing magazines and leaving them on my doorstep. Didn’t ring the doorbell or even leave a note—just left them so that my family would see them and bring them in to me.

8- Keeps my sense of humor:

Yesterday was my anniversary. Matt left the hospital to relieve my mom and went home and cleaned the garage. Then he took my boys to pick out a beautiful bouquet and called to see what I wanted for dinner (hospital food is getting REALLY old). He showed up with a full steak dinner (I'm a carnivore--this is my FAVorite). After the boys bounced around the room and gave me kisses, they headed home. Matt and I settled in and opened our dinners. I ate for about 3 minutes, then promptly threw up my $30 dinner. And settled for a dinner of chicken broth and half a roll. We just laughed.

7- Roll-with-the-flow kiddos:

My boys have handled mom being on bed rest wonderfully. I have to admit, it can’t be all bad. Cookies after breakfast? Sure guys. Play the Wii for hours? Why not? Playdates every day? This rocks, Mom. Seriously though, they have been great. Carter has been riding the bus to school while I’ve been down. The first time, I was worried he would be nervous, scared, etc. The bus came earlier than I thought, and Matt had to run and flag it down. With the quickest explanation to the bus driver, he hustled Carter aboard and then waved goodbye to our 6-going-on-30-year old. Was he scared? I worried all day. No need. He loved it. Not even fazed. He has made friends with all the big kids and told me he never wants us to drive him again. Mac has played happily with a multitude of friends and snuggled with me on the couch. He even watched Jane Eyre the other day (ok, he fell asleep). I’m glad they are such pals and I can’t wait until my energy matches theirs again (did it ever?).

6- Kindness of family:

The big question: how does a mother of two rambunctious boys go on complete bed rest for 4.5 weeks? The answer: amazing family and friends. Our friends and family have totally stepped in, taking the boys for hours at a time and entertaining them completely. Chelsea and Charlie, my sister-in-law and cheerfully chubby, cherubic 10-month-old nephew, came to stay with us for 8 days. In addition to setting my boys into fits of giggles, they (well, Chelsea) cooked, scrubbed, ran errands, brought snacks, fluffed pillows, and mothered my kids and myself until they were on their last legs. We demonstrated our gratitude by sharing our colds and getting them deathly ill (double-ear infection for Charlie and fever/chills/flu for Chels). We’re still sorry (and grateful), guys. **more family kindness below**

5-Painted toenails:

In addition to becoming the part-time and sometimes full-time parents of two adoring boys, Matt's parents have anticipated our every need. Childcare, fresh oranges, Christmas Eve jammies--they have thought of everything I haven't. Today, Tracy and Emma came to paint my toenails (which happen to poking out of some open-toed, knee-high white support stockings my nurse so kindly outfitted me with. Matt thinks they are super sexy). I am now sporting some very season-appropriate green-with-red-and-white-polkadots nail art. A professional job. What would we have done without them?

4- Matt's newfound culinary prowess:

Matt has discovered a hidden talent—cooking. After mastering Italian ravioli soup, enchiladas, etc., Matt decided one Sunday to go for the gusto. When I woke up that morning, he had already started thawing a turkey, and he had rolls rising before he left for church. In his enthusiasm, however, he misread the packaging and had estimated cooking time for a 2-pound turkey. A delicious, juicy, rosemary and garlic herbed 8-pound turkey was ready at 9:00 pm that night. But we had marvelous rolls for dinner. He was pretty proud of himself, and deservedly so. His rolls totally rocked mine.

3- Martha Stewart came to visit:

Literally. Ok, kind of. Better than that. I have watched a lot of Martha on bed rest, but my mom came in town last week, and anyone knows that is better than Martha any day. In addition to mopped floors, freshly baked artisan bread, spoiled children (mac could hardly believe his luck when he asked for Cheetos at the store and she actually bought them), my house now sports new, custom made yuletide décor. My rather pathetic looking front porch, I hear, looks beautifully vintage cheery. I have not seen it yet, but I have asked Matt to take a pic for me. In addition, she has spent hours with me flipping through decorating magazines, chatting, and even watching the Discovery channel next to my hospital bed. This is her fifth trip down to rescue me this year, and she’ll be back when the baby is born. My New Year’s resolution is to be a much less needy daughter/wife/mom.

2- My sweet husband:

After spending more than an entire month as both the mother and father, breadwinner and homemaker, chef and maid, contraction counter and shoulder to cry on, Matt came to my hospital room last night (my anniversary, remember) with entertainment for the evening. He had pulled out some old letters from our memory box (Matt and I long-distance dated in the pre-email, pre-texting age and communicated the old fashioned way—just think how ancient that will sound when I tell my kids in 10 years). I felt too lousy to do anything but listen to someone else talk, so he read some of my letters to him, his letters to me. He has slept at the hospital every night. Filled my water bottle a million times, then helped me drag my IV with me to the bathroom a billion times. And he does it all with a wry smile, just waiting to crack a joke.

After cooking the turkey and then cleaning the kitchen the other day, he said, “You know, I’ve spent the last 9 years trying to dumb down your expectations, and now I’m blowing it all.” But he is wrong. I’ve known what I had since I snatched him at 16. Smart move, Liza.


1- It means that I am still pregnant. Less time in the NICU. Healthier baby. Keep repeating until the magnesium wears off.

San Diego, Part Deux

On Thursday, we packed up our campsite, said goodbye to our pals, and headed off for a solo adventure, PIRATE STYLE. Avast, on the horizon, me eyes spotted a right sea-worthy vessel that my mateys had to plunder (seriously--Mac wanted a cannonball for a souvenir). Me 'n these here scurvy scallywags drug our sorry keesters out th' car and had us a grand great adventuaaarrr!

Pirates overboard! . . . almost.

Aarghhhhhhh! Pirate smirks (and Mac's hook).

Captain Carter mans the wheel

Put yer back into it, you scurvy dog!


Alas, the journey did not end so well for the scallywags. After sneaking into the captain's quarters, they were ambushed by enemy blaggards and run through with daggers. They met their end on the captain's bed. But being the most steel-hearted, scumdiferous bilge rats this side of the caribe, they made it back for a Russian submarine tour. Saavy?