Mommy Ever After » pediatrician

Snapshot of a Day

mommyeverafter — Wed, 05 Nov 2014 00:48:06 +0000

Tuesday, November 4th.
It is Election Day.
It is my Poppy Don’s 86th birthday.
It is the date when my son was supposed to have his bris, had he not come 4 days before his scheduled C-Section.
But this Tuesday is also an anniversary, and not a good one.
A year ago on the Tuesday of this week I received that first, fateful text from my husband that read, “Are you OK? I am getting a little worried about you. I see the light starting to go out in your eyes.”
And that was the beginning of the worst year of my life; It has been worse than all of my other years combined. And so I was dreading this week, as in some ways I am re-experiencing all of the fear and negative emotions of this day last year, like a victim of PTSD. I have nightmares. A lead weight sits in my chest.
But, it’s funny how life works.
Because it is Election Day, I had both kids home with me today, and because my daughter was a bit under the weather we had no plans. It was nice at times, and hard at others, and sometimes it got to the point where I felt like I was drowning in my anxiety. I thought back to this Tuesday last year. I can remember so many details of the things that were plaguing me then, and thinking about some of the events of that week made me feel physically ill. This is something I have never discussed on here before, but that week I was not only being hurt by the chemicals that began to swirl in scary ways in my mind, but I was being hurt by close friends. I was being made to suffer in agony at my most vulnerable of times. People abandoned me during my lowest point last winter, despite a promise to “be there forever”, and while at the time it was a crushing blow, I now look at it as my greatest blessing. I don’t have to endure the pain of that poison anymore.
I remember it being 11 o’clock in the morning on this Tuesday of last year, and looking down at my phone and seeing that text from my husband and feeling loved, but also feeling scared, because he was right. My light was dimming. The initial high of having a new baby, a baby who was healthy and cute and who nursed well and whom I loved dearly from the start (and the high from my Dilauded Rx) was fading, as I began my slow descent into the abyss.
There are certain dates I remember about the past year that are very significant to me. I remember my son’s birth, of course, and our magical hospital stay. I remember his Bris, and how my girlfriends piled into bed with me as we ate Cronuts that my sister scored from the coveted NYC bakery. I remember Thanksgiving when I sat in the corner, alone and virtually catatonic. And I remember this week.
So, today started off hard. I confided in some of my friends as we messaged throughout the morning, and unsurprisingly I was met with great encouragement and support. But as the day went on, my daughter got sicker and sicker as she appeared to be coming down with some kind of nasty bug. Mommom came over and when I told her about the significance of today, she said, “But look. Look where you are now. You are great now.” And this is something Mommom does. She says that everything is great, whether it is or not. No matter what the ailment, she says “You’ll be fine.” It is her coping mechanism, learned at an early age, and it is something that is sometimes comforting and sometimes frustrating.
I rolled my eyes at her.
“Really?” I asked, as clearly I am still struggling a great deal. Physically I am still dealing with some major issues and emotionally, each day is a new hill to climb. But she assured me by saying, “Look what you’re doing. You want to get out there. You’re doing things with friends and making new friends and making plans. That is better.”
And I didn’t think much of it. But an hour later, my daughter got even worse. She complained that she was freezing cold, refused my offer of toys and cookies and said she just wanted to sleep (she has not taken a single nap in almost 2 years). So she climbed into my bed with me, as she curled up under the covers on my side, and my son curled up on the other, and the three of us slept. Before drifting off, I got an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. Being in my bed, snuggled up with my two babies felt like such a blessing. And even though it was under less than desirable circumstances, it felt like home.
When the kids woke up nearly two hours later they immediately reached over my lap for one another and held hands. I only had my iPhone to capture the moment, and the room was dark, so the photo is grainy, but my kids grasped each other, anchoring themselves to one another and to me and anchoring me to reality. Things did feel a bit better.

And we all trekked downstairs, and my daughter needed a blanket and orange juice and the episode of Yo Gabba Gabba about the Doctor and my son needed his afternoon bottle and my dog needed to go outside and I needed to have a snack and call the pediatrician and as I juggled these things, both figuratively and actually literally (at one point I was balancing many things in one arm, including my 26 lb son) I thought, “I am doing this. I am taking care of business. I am taking care of two children and a dog and myself and I know what I am doing.
I’ve got this.”
And then Mommom’s words echoed in my ear.
As much as I feel like I am still in the depths of this thing, this awful thing that happened last year and swallowed me up and spit me out and left me weak and vulnerable and tired,
I am doing it. I am being a mom, and I think I am being a good one. And I realized that my grandmother was right.
So while today started off with a heaviness around it, it has lightened;
even though life circumstances actually got worse throughout the day, my perspective changed.
Like the grainy photograph of my kids holding hands, all of my tools are there,
it just isn’t always easy for me to see them clearly. But life isn’t made of moments captured in perfect lighting with a high resolution camera. It is spontaneous flashes of joy, snapped hastily, but still able to be savored despite their blurriness.
This Fall may be hard for me. It may be difficult me to get through each of the dates that remind me of my roughest times of the last year.
But as long as my kids keep holding hands,
and as long as I keep taking that in,
I think I am going to be OK.

The post Snapshot of a Day appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

The greatest call to the pediatrician ever. In history. I promise.

mommyeverafter — Fri, 18 Jul 2014 19:52:32 +0000

It was not so long ago that I wrote all about my experience and evolution as a mother, and how I have learned so much in just four and a half years.
I wrote, with confidence, about my expertise, and how I no longer have crazy frantic calls to the pediatrician or rushed emergency visits because I am now cool, calm, collected
and wise. Oh so wise.
But today, something strange happened;
My mom watched the baby all day while I was at work. When I got home midday she alerted me to a bright red splotch on his mid-section.
I’m way too seasoned now to worry about every little bump and rash, but this was unusual. It was big and it was bright red and had not faded all day.
It gave me a bit of anxiety,which is shocking, I know.
I waited a few hours to let it fade but when our babysitter came over to hang, she who is a nurse, mind you, and said it looked funky, we decided that a call to the Pediatrician was in order.
The nurse on cal was worried about a systemic reaction. She advised topical cortisone and a small dose of Benadryl. She would call back in an hour to check on him, as it was definitely a strange sounding rash.
Because medicine had become involved, I decided to finally call my husband to alert him of the situation.
I told him what was going on, our plan of action, and just as I was about to spoon some anti-histamine into my son’s mouth, he stopped me.
“It’s water ice,” he said.
“What?”
“Yes. I meant to tell you. It’s from the cherry water ice last night. It wouldn’t come off of his skin.”
And low and behold, I went upstairs into his hamper and took out the onesie that he had worn during dessert when my best friend came by to drop my kids a special treat of water ice for dessert and there was a huge red splotch, in the exact same spot on his abdomen where we found his “rash”.
So I had to call back and speak to the nurse once more.
She could not stop laughing. She was literally laughing so hard that she was unable to speak.
I guess it’s a good day when you can make a kind nurse laugh,
when a scary rash turns into a water ice stain
and, most of all, you can go back to being a cool parent after all,
one who lets her eight month old eat things that are bright red and filled with dye and sugar. Because that’s what really counts after all.

The post The greatest call to the pediatrician ever. In history. I promise. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

When I peed on that stick–all I didn’t know, 2.0

mommyeverafter — Mon, 23 Jun 2014 22:36:44 +0000

When my daughter was just shy of 18 months old I wrote about all of the things that I didn’t know when I had first decided to become a mother.
How that list has grown.
Since that time I have learned about RSV and nebulizers,
I have learned about cheerios vs. puffs,
Disney Junior as opposed to Nick Junior…
the list is endless.
But I think that the greatest difference between then and now is that now I feel like a mom.
I feel like I can give advice and that it is worth taking.
I feel like a mom when I recommend specialist doctors to my friends;
I feel like a mom when I brush my daughter’s teeth and make sure to get every one clean;
I feel like a mom when my daughter is told she is different because of her glasses (way more on that story to come) and I assuage her pain;
I feel like a mom when I pick up my daughter from her first day of real camp,
or when I kiss other kids’ boo boos,
or when I act in a crisis.
I feel like a mom when I put the pacifier of the mouths of my best friends’ babies;
I feel like a mom when those friends call me and say “I just need to freak out to you for a second.” and they trust me with their secrets and fears and they actually care about my advice.
I feel like a mom when I know the correct dosage of Tylenol off the top of my head,
when I make up bedtime stories and when I sing “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” to my daughter as she starts her journey towards slumber.
When I peed on that first stick, I had no idea how far I would come in 4 and a half years. How we would celebrate triumphs and mourn losses and pound our fists at injustices.
I had no idea that I would look at outgrown baby clothing and cry wistfully,
or that I’d write a card to our dear friends baby and sign it “Aunt Becca” and “cry happy”.
I am now ensconced in the world of carpool lines and after school activities and making bottles with one hand…
Two lines.
Just two lines, the first two steps on the journey I would take to today.
Today when I put sunscreen on my daughter;
Today when I let my son crawl around the floor of a dressing room as I helped my friend to shop;
Today when I said yes to “just one more song”.
There is so much I didn’t know. There is so much that I don’t know.
But I know that being a mom has evolved and that I have grown with it.
Through it all, when feeling threadbare or frustrated or so tired that I can scarcely keep my eyes open,
I know that I have lived another day
during which time I have shown two babies incredible love. That I’ve doled out thousands of kisses. That I’ve cheered on my team.
That I’ve done my best.
When I look back on that post from so long ago, I see a young woman still trying to fit into her mom uniform; I see that though I was walking in the mom heels, I didn’t have the stride just right.
And believe you me, I still don’t have things down perfectly,
but now I feel like a real mother. I am not playing dress-up in mom clothing.
And because of it all,
because of every word I just wrote,
and because it is 6:30 and I have two children tucked securely into their beds (or crib, or what have you)
I feel like this is why I’m here. This is why I fought. I fought for this.
Best victory ever.

The post When I peed on that stick–all I didn’t know, 2.0 appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

When I peed on that stick (What I didn’t know then.)

mommyeverafter — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 18:16:56 +0000

When I peed on that stick, and, miracle of all miracles, got two lines to appear, I knew that I wanted to be a mother.
I knew that my life was only beginning
and that in living my dream, I would find joy and love like I’d never before imagined.
Yes.
I knew all of that.
But then, there were also things that I didn’t know.
So. Many. Things.
Basically, all the things that I have done in the past 6 hours, since I first woke up this morning.
Today, I saw my child sick.
And when the emergency care nurses on the phone line told me that she could be seen by her Pediatrician, but only if I could make it there in 15 minutes, I ran…
….to get ready. Ran to throw on clothes over my pajamas. Ran to my sick daughter.
Today, as I raced to get out the door, I had to ignore the fact that my daughter had gotten sick all over my bed.
All over her beloved stuffed animal.
All over my shirt.
Today, I put a fresh shirt over my disgustingly dirty shirt, to get to the Pediatrician on time.
Today, I didn’t make it on time.
Today, I managed to make it to the other doctor’s office just in time to wait an hour for her to be seen.
Today, I fought back tears.
Today, I told a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner that I did not agree with her plan. I told her that I thought she was wrong.
(Today, I was right.)
Today, I got my dehydrated daughter to drink one small cup of diluted Gatorade by squirting it in her mouth with a tiny syringe, one milliliter at a time.
Today, I did the laundry. And I didn’t mess it up.
Today, I couldn’t fight back the tears any longer.
No, when I peed on that stick and saw one line become two, I never imagined that I’d be sitting in a doctor’s office, with tears in my eyes, and knots in my hair, and poop on my clothing. I never imagined that motherhood, in all of its amazing, love-filled, beautiful glory could also, sometimes, feel
(and please excuse me for this/pun inteded)
pretty darn shitty.
But, I did it.
And after my shirt was changed
and hair was combed
and proper Pediatrician was called
and correct medicine was given
I held a sleepy, sick baby in my arms and read her a favorite book.
And sang to her.
You are my sunshine
I sang.
And, my little girl looked up at me,
her tired eyes half closed
and said “Sunshine”.
A new word.
And then I was OK again.
So what I didn’t know then,
way back when when we were just two people with two lines,
was that the little person that was beginning her journey with me
would be my sunshine;
and always, always make me happy when skies are gray.

The post When I peed on that stick (What I didn’t know then.) appeared first on Mommy Ever After.