We waited longer. Finally about 1:00 am the investigator came in and asked to speak with me first. She took me to a room down the hall where a social worker was sitting in to hear our conversation. She asked me to recount the day. I thought that Bryer’s fussiness through the weekend may have clues into the state she was in now. I offered more details than the investigator asked for as she took notes on the weekend. I had chalked up her crankiness to the milk intolerance she had when I had milk products in my system that got into my breast milk. Maybe I had missed something. Could I have mistaken her fussiness?
Bryer hadn’t slept well Saturday night, but that was to be expected only being 2 ½ months old. Her sleep schedule still wasn’t set and I slept part of the night in the rocking chair next to her bed with her on my lap. Every time I laid her down she woke up, so I’d nurse her back to sleep and try again, adamant about her sleeping in her own bed and breaking the habit of her being in our room.
Not sleeping good led to Bryer having a cranky morning at church and standing up in the back with her to sway back and forth so she would be content. I nursed her in the mother's lounge during Sunday School and then she sat in her car seat, rocking her with my foot, while I taught the 3 and 4 year olds about Jesus's birth. She was out of my arms for only a few minutes that day as I got my classroom set up while a friend took her from me and ooo'ed an ahh'ed over her. Had I missed something? A warning sign? Was her fussiness not really because of the milk intolerance? I gave the investigator all the details I could think of that would help her and the doctors to help Bryer.
I remember the investigator asking about how Jason is with the kids - if he yells or ever hits them. These were such absurd questions! Obviously I had recounted every detail of the weekend and our Sunday. And now she was moving on to Jason? He wasn't even there when I found her not breathing! It was such a strange, draining, tiring feeling as the hours wore on. Was she just not getting it? I wanted to get back to my baby; to go back home and snuggle her up in our bed and forget about trying to wean her to her own crib. The social worker sat on the couch on the other side of the room, doodling on her paper and picking at her nails. Soon after the investigator said she was finished and walked me back to the room to trade for Jason.
As Jason left, I looked around the room, so overly tired, but not wanting to sleep. I saw the big glass doors we quietly slid open and shut to come in and out. The nurses station was right outside our door with Bryer's very own nurse looking in - not to have to share her with other little patients in our unit. I hid behind the curtain and pumped more milk, even though they wouldn't use it for Bryer right now. One of the other nurses showed me how to label it and where to store it in the freezer down the hall in the kitchen. All this pumping and storing seemed new to me even though I had nursed my fair share of babies. Bryer wasn't using it now, but at some point she would and I wanted to keep my milk supply up for her. I only wanted her to have the best that I could give her.
Sometime later I tried to get comfy on the window seat in Bryer's room. It didn't feel like I slept long before Jason woke me up. It was about 5:00 in the morning. My mind was so drowsy, but I tried to be alert to all that was going on. The nurse came in and out, checking Bryer's monitors and taking her vitals. They had given her medicine to induce a coma in order to let her brain relax. I tried to remember something they had said about seizures. I never remember seeing seizures; or at least they didn't look like Sawyr's seizures he had when he was little. I tried to concentrate through my foggy brain on updates the nurse was telling me. I decided it was time to get up and pump again while I tried to wake up my brain and hear what Jason had to say about his interview.