Shortly after my last post, I tried to get some shut eye. And as every baby does, Marshall fussed shortly after my head hit the pillow.

His dad was on duty and scooped him up. Nothing comforted him.  So his fuss turned to wails. The wails turned to cries. Then things got crazy.

I got up to suggest a diaper change (he hates being wet and/or dirty).  Michael could barely hear me over Marshall’s hysterics. 

As soon as I unwrapped our baby burrito, I saw and heard the issue: his chest drain was letting air into and out of his little body.   The more he yelled, the more air went in and out.  And the air was whooshing rapidly with each yell.

I immediately paged the nurse.

Seconds later we had four nurses, a nurse practitioner,  and a surgeon in the room. The chest drain was too far out to go back in.  So the surgeon finished taking it out.

The nurse practitioner gave us the run down on what to expect and insisted I was “Supermom” for reacting as I did.

Apparently she missed the terror I was feeling during the incident and then as we watched all of his stats register again.

His lung could have collapsed. His heart could have been overstressed.  His xray could have come back with more air in his chest in addition to the air in his abdomen.

But thankfully it didn’t (so far).

He is superthankfully fine.  And Michael stood guard til the wee hours of morning so I could get some much needed rest while Marshall slept off the painkillers administered during the drain removal. 

And his dad got to get some rest close by – in the playroom of all places! 

What a first night…