Wednesday, Aug. 27, 2008

When hope comes home: Baby Salvador Campos joins his Pasco family

By Joe Chapman, Herald staff writer

Looking at Salvador Campos cradled in his father's arms, it's hard to tell the baby entered the world any differently from anyone else.

He makes facial expressions and looks around, sleeps, squirms and drinks from a bottle. He'll flash a sleepy smile, and he has an expression in which he sticks his bottom lip out as if he's mighty irked about something.

When his father, Juan Felipe Campos Gomez, 35, of Pasco, holds his son and looks at him, he smiles at the life and beauty he sees in an infant who survived an almost unimaginable birth.

Salvador was cut from his mother's womb June 27, and his mother, Araceli Camacho Gomez, was found dead in Columbia Park a few hours later.

Phiengchai Sisouvanh Synhavong of Kennewick has been charged with aggravated first-degree murder in the slaying.

Since then, Juan has brought Salvador home from Deaconess Medical Center in Spokane, where the baby spent the first weeks of his life. The infant faces a life of possible impacts from brain damage he suffered during the ordeal, but Juan finds strength from the baby as he begins working to take care of his three children on his own.

"That's the best thing that's happened to me -- that he's with me," Juan said in Spanish on Tuesday, speaking through a translator. "The best thing that could've happened was that the baby survived."

When Salvador was removed from his mother's womb that night, he went two or three hours without medical attention, and after the second hour, he began suffering oxygen deprivation, Juan said.

"The good thing that helped the baby was that his lungs were well developed, and that's what saved his life," Juan said.

Salvador was about three weeks premature and weighed less than 4 pounds. Now he weighs 11 pounds and is about 20 inches long -- 22 inches, including his impressive head of hair.

"Mucho pelo, huh?" he said to attorney Norma Rodriguez, a liaison assigned to Juan, as she looked at the baby for the first time and touched his spiked hair.

The baby, in fact, has more hair than his older brother, Juan Carlos Campos, 10, who has a short haircut and plans to start the fourth grade today. Salvador gets the hair from his mother, Juan said. When their daughter, Brenda Campos, 2, was born, she had a lot of hair, too, he said.

Doctors have told Juan that how Salvador's brain damage will affect him won't be known until later in his life. It could manifest itself in mental or physical impairments.

The long-term effects of oxygen deprivation are hard to tell in a baby because they usually have to do with skills that haven't been developed yet, said Tracy Moran-Patton, pediatric clinical instructor in the nursing department at Washington State University Tri-Cities.

Physicians' wellness checks of babies determine whether they are delayed, on task or exceeding milestones such as smiling, cooing or holding their heads up. Later checks monitor social interaction and cognitive ability.

"With a child, particularly a child this young," she said, referring to Salvador, "they haven't even begun to achieve those milestones."

To give Salvador the best chance at normal functions, Juan follows the doctors' prescribed regimen of medication and physical therapy exercises. He feeds Salvador milk tinted pink from the medication, vitamins and iron.

His legs were stiff and his hands were too clenched, so Juan does exercises with the limbs to loosen them.

The leg movements seem to hurt Salvador, he said. The exercises have loosened his hands, but now they don't grab at a finger placed in the palm. He does, however, reach for the bottle with his hands when it's put to him.

Salvador's crying seems to be normal when he's hungry or he needs a diaper changed, Juan said. At night, the baby wakes up every three to four hours to eat.

Brenda also wakes up at night sometimes, missing her mother. Carlos helps his father by making the bottle or tending to Brenda.

But Juan is struck with how hard it is to keep everyone on schedule. In the mornings, the kids are slow to wake up, so he rustles them into the bathroom for their showers to help get them going.

He does his best to stay on top of the cooking, the cleaning, keeping hospital appointments and meeting with other people.

Through it all, he thinks of Araceli, he said.

"Especially when the baby's crying or Brenda needs something," he said. "And everything is out of place at home."

He said he understands how much he needs her. She was like the head of the household, he said.

"She's the one who did everything. In reality, I only worked," he said.

Many people have offered to help Juan. He has received assistance with medical bills and offers of in-house therapy. An account at American West Bank continues to receive donations under the name Gomez Benevolent Account.

But Juan struggles to trust people or accept their help.

"It seems like people are good, when you don't know their intentions," he said.

Juan said he would find out today whether immigration officials will allow his mother, who is 64 and living in Mexico, to enter the country and come stay with him to help him and the children.

If he gets a work permit and help with child care, he'll go back to work soon, he said.

Although challenges remain, he has hope for himself and his children, including his youngest.

"I'm pretty sure he's going to be pretty happy in his life," Juan said, rocking his infant son.