Admitted

As a mother, you worry about everything.  Most of the time, the worries are just that; worries.  “What if, what if, what if.”  A mantra sang by most parents.  They never amount to anything.  You go about your life and say to yourself, “why did I even worry about that?”  But, then again; there are times when those deepest darkest fears come true and you find yourself at the mercy of prayers.  When my daughter was admitted to the hospital early Thursday morning for dehydration after 3 nights of vomiting and not eating or drinking; I’ll admit, I worried.

We went to the pediatrician and saw a doctor who, I feel, pushes the panic button unnecessarily.  I had a feeling he was going to send us there, and he did.  “She will benefit from IV’s,” he said.  “She looks pale and weak.”  Yes, that was true.  She was acting like a glorified rag doll at the time and I guess I knew he was right. My instincts told me he was right.  And, as a mother, you have to trust those instincts.  But now I was at the mercy of the hospital to get my daughter better and I’ll admit, I was scared. 

I immediately made 2 phone calls and thankfully, I have the best husband and partner in the world.  He was on the scene within an hour. And, my parents are my saviors; in the hospital within 2 hours to check on C (with an hour and a half drive) and home to take care of my 7 month old within 2 1/2.

Being at the hospital is so traumatic for a 2 ½ year old.  When we were trying to get the IV’s in and I was lying on top of her with my head pressed against her head, I had a moment of seeing it from her perspective.  Looking at the 2 nurses dressed all in white, with needles in hand was a scary view.  It looked like a scene from “One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” No wonder she was absolutely freaking out?!  Anyone with children who have been sick can understand that people poking and prodding your 2 ½ year old will not get a good reception.  I had to lift my head up, hide those tears, and become a warrior. No breathing allowed.  No fear in my eyes.  Ready to rumble.  Let’s get this done.

But, it was hard.  It was one thing after another and it took tons of strength from all of us.  And, I’ll admit: I don’t understand why they have to do the most invasive acts for things that don’t need to be done that way.  Rectal temperature.  Tylenol suppositories.  Why?  Take the damn temperature under her arm and give her liquid Tylenol through her mouth. 

But, I digress; after 5 hours of IV’s, the doctor comes in to tell us that most kids bounce back by now (90% to be exact).  But, C was inconsolable.  Screaming and writhing in pain.  He looked at us and said, “To be frank, I’m a bit concerned.”  Words you, as a mother, never want to hear from a doctor about your child.  EVER!  She had to stay the night, and he recommended a stomach X-ray to see what the cause was.  I’ll admit: A stomach X-Ray makes me nervous.  I feel like the radiation from it will affect my daughter’s ovaries and we will find out that it was a problem during her child-bearing years.  A crazy thought, probably, but I will openly admit it.  And the truth is, I didn’t think it was necessary.  It was a damn virus.  She hadn’t eaten.  She was starving and gassy.  But, you cannot play doctor and believe you know what is best.  It was done and it was clear.  Thank goodness my instincts were right.  It was just a virus that got the best of her.

After a full night in the hospital with IV’s, C started to perk up the next day.  She was, “out of the woods,” as they say and on the mend.  Finally starting to take little bites of food and sip her water and milk.  And, I finally got to take off my mask and break down and cry.  And now, as she is tucked into bed and sleeping peacefully, I can finally admit, I’m relieved.