The Air We Breathe

Not much to report today, which generally means it is a good day. Ava did well with her blood transfusion (amazing what a little blood will do for one's color!) They have begun slowly but surely implementing the "weening protocol" to get her off the ventilator. She is now on 16 respirations per minute, with a o2 level of 30% and a "peep" (positive expiatory end pressure) of 8. She is so far tolerating this very well, is taking several of her own breaths above the vent, and holding her own. In order to extubate, they will eventually get her down to 10 breaths and a peep of 5 (30% oxygen is already the minimum, as this is only slightly more than room air). Once that is accomplished, they will turn off the respiration rate, while still giving some assistance when she takes her own breath (since she is essentially breathing through a straw). If she can prove she can do this, the tube will come out.

Don't think that treading on this soil doesn't scare us to death. The fear with any baby this weak is that you won't be able to get them off the ventilator once a decision is made to intubate. Add to that an underlying mitochondrial issue that causes weakness, and it is downright terrifying. We pray that she is strong enough to do this. We pray that we return her to a baseline that involves holding her and starring into the beautiful eyes that have so captured our hearts.

Such a basic function of life that we all perform thousands of times a day and give zero thought to. Yet without it, we drown. How much is Christ like the air we breathe? Invisible, yet always present, surrounding us, "ventilating" our souls. Without him, we drown. Just like the song we sing in church:

"This is the air I breathe.
Your holy Presence
Living in me."

"This is our Daily Bread.
Your very word
Spoke to me."

"And I'm desperate for you.
I'm lost without you."