Seeing Double: day 5

This morning our spirits were up as we brewed our coffee, baked our dutch baby pancakes, and admired Mandy's record-breaking production of milk, lined neatly in a row in five medical bottles in the freezer. As we finished cleaning up after our breakfast, Mandy's phone rang, and a pediatrician from the Anaheim NICU, after inquiring about the origin of our daughter's name, had this update for us:
First of all, they tried to wean Simone from the vent last night but were unsuccessful. It seems her lungs are just not ready to operate on their own. Second, a test of her blood gases found her to be slightly acidotic, which probably means that she has not been able to expel the carbon dioxide from her blood. The doctor told us there were several possible causes for this, some of them quite scary. Third, another blood test also found her to be anemic. The doctor told us, because of the anemia and because of the blood loss from all the testing she is undergoing, that she might need a transfusion. Simone, like her mama, is type O+ which, fortunately for us, is the most common blood group (we hope, however, that we will be able to designate a donor, should she require it, and so Robert, Mandy's mom, Bonnie, and Mandy's dad, Charles, are putting up a pint each in her name, and we are more grateful than we can express).
Needless to say, all of this was a bit overwhelming for us, and as soon as we calmed down we headed out to see our Oneta Simone face to face. The sonographer was just finishing the echocardiogram. We watched our daughter's beating heart as the doctor told us that she was sending the images to a cardiologist for evaluation, but that it looked to her as though the PDA had not closed as we had hoped. She said that, if this was the case, we would begin a second course of NeoProfen (3 doses given once a day for consecutive days) and hope that it would stimulate the closure of the ductus. If the second treatment fails, we were told, we will be facing surgery.
Reeling from all this new information, we settled down at Oneta's bedside to enjoy her company. Mandy has decided that she is in love with her peachy round knees and her sharp little elbows. Rob likes to sing Led Zeppelin songs to her while she holds his finger in her tiny grip. We are both dreaming of the day we finally get to hold her, upon which occasion Mandy fears she may never let her go again (at least until her teenage years).
We left a bit early in order that Rob and Grandma could make it to the blood bank in Downey before they closed to give blood. They took Mandy home first so that she could pump until her Grandma and Grandpa Stevenson came to pick her up and take her to Irvine to see Robert Graham. They brought us a delicious casserole, salad and homemade bread sticks for dinner (we were so thankful, since by the time we arrived home we were too exhausted to cook). Once at Irvine, Mandy held Robert greedily for a few hours. She told him everything, cried to him a little, and felt deliriously happy the entire time. Something terrible and amazing happens when one looks in the eyes of one's own, something that goes all the way down and roots. Later she was able to feed him, change him and dress him. By the time Robert arrived, it was time for her to pump again, so the skin to skin time went to daddy, who, with a bandage wrapped around his arm from his blood draw, more than deserved it. Relief and contentment washed over Rob as soon as his son lay comfortably against his chest. In the end we can endure quite a lot for such a reward.