Motherhood

I think I am finally into the swing of things!

My brain has finally wrapped around the idea that my house will forever be an unorganized mess of unfolded laundry, scattered toys, and random burp cloths and socks everywhere! Although when they are teens I expect that those items will be replaced with dirty laundry, drinking cups or pop cans, and their shoes...

Although my house is a complete disaster, I am more at ease with it than ever. Take that however you want. It doesn't mean that I've given up and we will live in a pig pen the rest of our lives. It just means that I have finally realized what my Uncle Matt was trying to tell me. The dirty, unorganized house is the trade off to having little kids and a full-time job. It happens. I have accepted that. One room gets clean and another gets dirty. Got it. And, the dishes will need to be done nightly to keep them contained. Otherwise, they come heaping up out of the sink and we start to creatively stack them to keep the tower going. The great plus to that is that the sink can be seen when someone steps foot into our house. It's a great first impression - a real statement maker.

Moving on...

I've heard moms say that they were much more overprotective of their first one than the second. I think that is true to a certain extent. I was pretty damn psycho with Lucy; I'll be the first to admit that. I was seriously bat-shit crazy.With Olive am I just as "cray-cray?" You bet your ass I am.

I apologize for the cussing. I feel compelled. Perhaps it is that I am watching too much Breaking Bad, yo!

Anyway, with Olive I am just as crazy. I just do a much, much better job of two things: 1) suppressing my crazy and 2) being more assertive.

I have learned that as crazy and paranoid as I am that there are certain things out of my control. With Lucy, I used to stay awake at night worrying about her. I know it didn't do any good. So, with Olive for instance, if I have a fan going to keep air circulating, remove all blankets from the crib, and make sure she isn't too hot, I have done almost everything I can to prevent SIDS. It is in God's hands after that. All I can do is pray with all my heart and soul and hope that is enough.

I am also much better at being more assertive. I think that possibly comes with age or something. I am just way more outspoken these days (bad thing sometimes). But, as I get older I yearn for approval less and less. Plus, I think I feel more confident about the people around me. I know that they love me for me and will accept me, even if I ask them to not put Olive to sleep with a blanket. They know I'm crazy; what's new?

So, in my book, is the second one easier? Yes - in all ways possible. Olive is an easier baby and I am more composed as a mother.

I have finally settled into motherhood; it only took 3 years. I sincerely think it took that long to forget my life pre-Lucy and to completely let go of it. Now, don't get me wrong. I would never ever in my wildest dreams go back or give up my babies, now or before. But, I just kept comparing everything to the way it was before. I somehow expected the house to be as clean, for things to be as organized, for getting ready to take the same time, for my body to go right back to the way it was, for Heath and I to have as much time together. I thought that everything would be the same, just with a baby, happiness, zoo trips, vacations, and a few diapers. It is so, so much more. I don't think anything, ANYTHING, can properly prepare you for the physical, emotional, and mental journey that is parenting.

In conclusion, Olive had great timing. She just so happened to come when I had my greatest epiphany yet. Judge my house, judge my crazy, but just know - I am a mother. :)

Additional Thoughts:

• This post does not get me out of having occasional melt downs about how unorganized the house is and how little time I have to be superwoman. They will still happen on rare occasion; trust me.
• I highly recommend Breaking Bad, but it is super graphic and cussy. What do you expect? It's about meth. Thanks to my Uncle, Aunt, and cousins.

Pre-Lucy Thoughts

Each child is different and each one may need different 'tactics'!

Of course all moms like to give advice and let me be the first mom to tell you that my way works best. haha. Just kidding. But, here you go...

1. What kind of diaper bag did you use? Purse-type? Diaper-bag type? Did your husband carry it? Did you use the straps to hold it on to the stroller? Did you also carry a purse?

First of all, wowsers! That is a lot of questions. That type of fast-firing of questions is how I imagine a chihuahua would talk, if it could. :)  Anyway - I had a larger, black diaper bag. I wanted one that didn't have pastels and animals on it. So, my husband researched for "the best" one he could. It was online and had the best reviews. It looked more like a luggage-type bag than a diaper bag or purse, or at least I think so. My husband did carry it, since it was so ambiguous. We did use the straps for the stroller; we also used the straps that hold it onto the shopping cart. It was really helpful! Most of the time I still carried a purse, unless we were just running to a family members house or something, then I just threw my stuff in the diaper bag.

2. When did you fit back into your pre-baby pants? Did you buy larger pants or stay in maternity pants after baby?

I think it is unrealistic to think you are going to just hop back into your pre-baby pants. However, you are talking to someone who gained 54 lbs while pregnant. :[ I know those types of "freaks-of-nature" exist (no offense to those of you out there); but, I was NOT one of them. I didn't get back into my pre-baby pants until, like, 6 months later. Before that I had to buy new, big clothes (boo!). Just remember that everyone is different and hopefully my story makes you feel a bit better about it! haha.

3. Favorite brands of diapers? Wipes?

We quickly became Pampers fans. We tried Huggies once when Lucy was a newborn and didn't like them. We never tried any other kind after that. For wipes, we prefer Huggies. That is weird; I know. We buy both though. Huggies are just a bit thicker and don't rip as easily when you pull them out. An argument for Pampers: Children's hospital uses Pampers - must be good! :)

4. Where did baby sleep those first few weeks (or longer)? Your bed? Bassinet? Crib? In your room or his/her own?

Lucy was our first, and it's me we're talking about here. So, the paranoia was through the roof! SIDS scares the poop out of me! I didn't want Lucy sleeping away from me for at least a month. It ended up, she slept in our room for 2 months before moving to her own room. She slept in a pack-n-play, in the shallow insert they have...hard to describe. The next one may move to his or her room faster; who knows? Lucy had a hard time soothing herself. Or, we had a hard time letting her soothe herself, something like that...

5. How long until baby made a public appearance? Where was baby's first public appearance?

Our family visited a lot immediately; so, we didn't really need to leave the house a lot. Since Lucy was born in the middle of winter, we were also encouraged to not let her be around a lot of people (flu!). I think her first real public appearance was to the doctor and back. I think we made a trip shopping all day when she was 6 weeks and that was a big deal - and tough! I honestly didn't feel like getting out too much; I was still really self-conscious and sleep deprived!

6. Most useful baby item? I ran into a girl shopping for a baby gift in Target & she was looking at hooded towels. I said they were useful but should have thought of more useful items!

It is really tough to say what was the most useful. We have had a lot of items that we really needed to get by. The most would probably have to be the boppy. It helped me support Lucy when I breastfed and she was able to nap in it. It comforted her; she felt like she was still being held. It was our infant savior!

7. Did you find out the baby's gender beforehand?

Yes. I wanted to be able to plan out clothing and colors and a name. I like to plan and be organized. Experiencing birth and seeing Lucy's face was enough excitement for one day. We wanted to have something revealed throughout the pregnancy. :)

8. How long was your hospital stay? Did your hospital provide any cool services (special meal, spa treatment, etc)?

We were there technically three nights, since I went in at 9 pm and was in labor all night. It seemed to be the perfect number of days for our first baby. The hospital had a special menu for the parents, where Heath was able to eat too. It was nice. :) No spa treatments though. :(

9. Were you induced? Have a c-section? Use drugs? Epidural? Or au natural the whole way?

I went into labor naturally, a couple of days before she was due. I was lucky. I was also able to have her vaginally, which is what we wanted. The labor was long and slow - 36 hours; however, Lucy did really well and they never felt the need to rush it or do a C-Section. My doctor actually claimed, "Lucy [was] loving the birthing process." I was offered something to "take the edge off" while I waited for the epidural. I said yes; I would take anything they thought I could have at that point. It really did help a little. Then, I got an epidural at 4 cm and about 26 hours in. I wouldn't have changed a thing.

10. Do you like when friends come to the hospital to congratulate you or would you prefer that time just for your family (extended or immediate?)?

I really liked everyone being there for Lucy's birth. However, it was a little overwhelming. I felt at my absolute most vulnerable. I just wanted to shower and cuddle my baby. However, two hours after and a shower later, I was ready to show her off. Most visitors respected our exhaustion though and kept their visits somewhat brief. But, I think I preferred the visits in the hospital to the ones when we got home. Visitors during the first couple of weeks at home really made it tough to get into a routine or to take naps. :[ Everyone is different though.  Perhaps adjusting with a second child is easier - ?

Have a good Tuesday! And, please mothers out there chime in all you want! :)

Scary Times: Part 6

Let's all cross our fingers that this will be the last installment of the "Scary Times" posts. Deal?

When you last heard from me about Lucy being sick, we had just gotten out of the hospital for the second time. Lucy had an incision about 3 or 3.5 inches long in her groin area. Two stitches were holding it together, loosely, and a tube was sticking out of the top. The tube looked just like a McDonald's straw, minus the red or yellow stripe. It was held in by one stitch.

We also had to give her antibiotics and probiotics throughout the day.

Oddly enough, we were able to put her in the bathtub with the tube in. Won't water get inside her? No idea. But, that is what they told us to do. "Cleanliness is close to Godliness," Dr. A said.

The idea of the loose stitching was that the "sore", if you will, needed to heal from the inside out. Dr. A said that he couldn't sew it closed, or the abscess would just come back. That made sense. One week went by. We went in to get the tube out. The cultures of the abscess had come back - more staph infection. We weren't surprised; that is what we had all expected.  He cut the tube stitch and pulled it out in, like, two seconds and we were on our way.

In the next few days the incision continued to kind of ooze. Gross - I know. Then, where the tube was, some skin started to emerge out of the "hole". When we went to get the stitches out, Dr. A said it was scar tissue. He took the other stitches out and told us that we would have to burn Lucy's scar tissue off. Now, doesn't that sound fun?

Sorry - can you sense my annoyance through my sarcasm?

We took home some liquid nitrate sticks. They looked like long Q-tips. Any skin it touched, it would burn. Daily, Heath and I had to hold Lucy down (it seriously took us both!) and would burn some of this scar tissue off. Lucy hated it. When I asked Dr. A if it hurt her, he said it would cause "mild pain" and "sting a little"...whatever that meant for a 21 month old. I dreaded that time of day. Bandage changing and "burning" was the worst.

The good news was that we no longer had to go see Dr. A! As long as the incision looked good in two weeks, we didn't have to follow up! Music to our ears.

Next thing we knew, the incision looked really odd. "The skin isn't touching anymore, right?" I asked Heath. After further staring and thought, we made an appointment with our regular doctor, Dr. B.

It had popped open. You could tell Dr. B hated telling us this. She went on to tell us, "All children aren't all this bad! I promise!" Then she told the nurse, "At this rate, they aren't going to let me deliver any more!" 

Then, she left to call Dr. A from across the hall. Heath stood by the door, trying to hear the conversation. We were nervous that she would be sending us back to Children's. "Please no," we both pleaded. We heard the conversation end. Dr. B conversed with her nurses and they started gathering supplies. The nurse carried in gauze, sterile water, and bandage tape. Whew! No needles or thread!

Dr. B said that Dr. A shared her same regret with this entire situation. It just never seemed to end! My thoughts were, "You're telling me!?"

We did a week of wet to dry gauze changes, while continuing the burning of scar tissue. Fun times. These dressing changes had to take place twice a day and they were more challenging to get in place. The tape made Lucy's groin so red and it started to actually scab in some places. We tried our hardest to move the tape around and not tape in the same place. There just weren't that many options. We looked for a better tape to use than what the doctor gave us. We found a paper tape; but, it still irritated her leg, if we could get it to stick at all. Ugh!

A week later, I took Lucy back to Children's. We had just finished the burning and the incision was looking better. Dr. A said it looked good too. I was worried; could you blame me?

The outcome - no more dressings! No more tape! No more burning! Just neosporin and a band-aid. I was excited! Oh, and no more Children's Hospital! Yay! Nothing personal; I just don't care to see any of them ever again...

I used all of my excitement to go shopping. It was therapeutic to say the least! :) I even splurged a little and got Lucy the cutest brown, suede boots.

Everything is going well and we are both impressed with how much better the incision looks. Now that Daycare is able to see it, without a dressing covering it up, they didn't think it looked too good. I had to kind of laugh to myself, because it was so much worse before.

Now, please join in my excitement (and prayers that it's true) as I type these two little words...

The End.

I'm "Such a Mom"

I always said that I would be "the cool mom." I'm going to stay up with the times and styles. I'm going to continue to listen to popular music. I won't wear mom jeans or otherwise embarrassing clothes. I won't talk about boys or sing along in the car, especially during sleepovers. I will understand shorts that are just shorter than the finger-tip rule. I will understand asking to shave early. I'll remember myself as a child...

I'm not doing so well.

I don't know if it is my getting older, having "real-life" responsibilities, or being a mom that has changed me. I just don't see things like I used to.

Scary movies are scary. Watching someone get stabbed in the torso repeatedly is not just a fun thrill. It is terrifying that those people are out there!

Nickelodeon is kind of smart-alleck-y.

What is with all of the toys these days for little girls? Bratz? Give me a break. But, have you seen the Monster High dolls?

And, now they have costumes for little girls.

Let's pretend for five seconds that this little girl isn't wearing makeup. Are those fish net stockings? Or knee high boots? Let's just file this one in the "Toddlers & Tiaras" file.

I realized that I was being a little more critical than usual; but, I was finally told by Heath that I was "such a mom" when I made one particular complaint. It was about a song that hit the top 40 list a few months ago. I think it's just awful. The song is "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People. Catchy tune - I'll give you that.

The lyrics include these lines:

Robert's got a quick hand.

He'll look around the room, he won't tell you his plan.

Yeah, he found a six shooter gun.

In his dad's closet hidden with a box of fun things, and I don't even know what.

But he's coming for you, yeah he's coming for you.

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun.
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks you'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet.

I feel that this song reeks of school shooting. It really bothers me. I sounds like an awful anthem! After hearing the actual lyrics of the song, I can't stand to listen to it. I refuse to support the song, the idea, or the band. We even googled it, to see if the band reveled the meaning. Someone online claimed that it was to "raise awareness of school shootings." Yeah, okay. I don't believe that. It wouldn't be so upbeat.

Am I really being "such a mom"? Am I too touchy? Because, I swear I didn't used to be like that.

What do you think? Any other "moms" out there?

Scary Times: Part 5

We continue our story...

For some reason sleeping in the hospital was harder for me this time. This being said, I didn't exactly sleep like a baby last time. Perhaps I wasn't exhausted with worry like last time; I'm not sure. Lucy slept well the first night. She still hated them waking her up throughout the night to check vitals. Who wouldn't?

The next morning we waited to hear about the CT scan. They finally scheduled it for early afternoon. We basically sat around all day until then. Since Lucy was more 'awake' than the last time she had a scan, this time she would have to be sedated. I hated the thought of it; but, I kept telling myself that at least she'd be getting good sleep.  (Thank you Mackenzie and Morgan for Lucy's horsie, Bonnie!)

Also with the CT scan, she had to drink a contrast; so, when they take the images they can see the organs clearer.  Last time they were checking her appendix and put the contrast in by IV. This time they had to have her ingest it. No problem. They mixed it with apple juice and she just had to drink the ten ounces. Never mind - it was much more difficult than we thought. We got her to drink four ounces on her own. However, she would not drink the rest. This meant they had to make her.

How do nurses make a 20 month old drink something? Shove a tube up her nose and down her throat.

It was tough. This was the one time that Heath and I were not able to help hold her down.  They came in, wrapped her arms in a blanket, so she couldn't move, and three nurses shoved a tube up her nose. Lucy coughed, cried, gagged, dry heaved and looked at us for help. I stood back and cried. Heath just kept whispering to me, "This is terrible. This is just terrible."

They let her go and she immediately ripped the tube out. They had to insert it two more times until she stopped. Heath was finally able to pick her up while they let gravity drain in the six remaining ounces. I absolutely hate the feeling of having her ask us for help and comfort and not being able to do anything. It has to be the worst!  She locked eyes with me and gave me a look as though, "Why?" It broke my heart. I wish she understood.

After that rough patch, we walked her down to the scan. She did really well and fell asleep in the machine again. The tech taking the images said that the abscess looked pretty large. Later that afternoon, during the staff rounds, we were shown the CT scan images.  This was the most we had ever been included. We liked being included with the thorough explanation. They said that they saw her appendix; it was full of gas and appeared to be functioning well. We could finally rule that out. Whew! That was nice to hear!

They also showed us the abscess. Wow - was it large! It was actually pushing her bladder over, because it was so big. It had fluid inside of it too. The doctor then explained to us that to be able to get the fluid out completely, they would have to "go in". You may remember this same phrase from our initial doctor, in the E.R. This meant that this time, they would have to cut Lucy open. We were mentally prepared - whatever got this thing taken care of.

Family started to show up. My mom and sister spent the entire day with us. It was a blessing. Time no longer crawled.  My dad called from Texas and said he was coming up for the surgery too. My heart was balancing between fear and happiness.

That night, Lucy was normal. The swelling had gone down a little with the IV antibiotics. She could walk again, because they were giving her Tylenol for the pain. She was dancing around the room and singing. It was a good time...in a hospital!

The day of the surgery, we were nervous again. I was never left alone this time though. I wasn't able to make myself crazy. So many family members showed up; I couldn't have been more thankful for all of them. Even my cousin Hannah drove for four hours to be with us. Our family came together for us - from literally all ends of the state and country. Isn't that awesome?

We walked Lucy down to surgery again. I was doing pretty good until the elevator. A woman got on that I recognized. She was really tall and her lips were pale. I immediately remembered her from a volleyball camp I attended in high school. Oh no - a real person! Let me explain...

I like to pretend that the surgeons, anesthesiologists, and nurses helping are all super humans. They aren't normal. They don't have lives outside of the hospital. Basically, they are incapable of making human errors. This changes things a bit. She was real. I know she is. I was more nervous now. 

We had a tearful good-bye, while Lucy yelled for us as they took her away. It's awful. I made sure to tell the anesthesiologist and a nurse that Lucy didn't deal with morphine well. If they could give her something else for pain, we would appreciate it.  I had also told another random doctor this same information the night before.

The surgery, though, went well. We all sat in the lobby talking and even laughing. I ate a container of fries like I was being timed (the nerves!). The surgery and recovery were a little over an hour. However, there really is something very calming about not knowing the specifics of what is happening to her, knowing she is sleeping well, and knowing that this is all being taken care of.

Dr. A finally came from surgery. He said that the abscess was "nasty" and he was glad that they went in when they did. He kept reiterating how bad and nasty it was. They ended up also taking out 3 or 4 lymph nodes that were infected. They were the root of the problem I guess. He was speculating that the lymph nodes grabbed onto the infection, trying to "help out" the immune system with fighting it. However, they ended up getting the infection inside and held onto it until they festered long enough to swell like crazy. He wouldn't be able to tell us for sure until they got the abscess cultures back.

Dr. A also said that they put a drain in again; however, this time it was just a tube, without a bag. It would leak out onto a gauze.

I asked if they gave Lucy morphine. I bet you know his answer...yep! They did. I told three people and no one did anything about it. I appreciate Dr. A; because he acted genuinely concerned about it and told me that he would switch her to Tylenol with codeine.

We got to pick her up then. It is always a wonderful feeling being able to scoop her up in my arms. This time she wasn't as swollen; but, she seemed to have a bit of a black eye. :(

The recovery was similar. She was sleepy for a long time and then she had a morphine fit. It was the same as last time, but lasted longer. My dad, Heath's sister and her boyfriend were the only ones around to witness it this time. I think they realized that we weren't exaggerating. Heath and I were better at witnessing it by now. However, it really bothered Lucy's Aunt Heather. Thank goodness once that one was over, Lucy didn't have any more. Now we knew that the morphine was to blame. Noted!

Dr. A came by to check on Lucy at about 10:30 pm. I knew I liked him. He actually took the time to stop by. :)  Also, he called to check on her again close to midnight. I loved how much he cared.

Lucy was finally able to eat again and snacked on Aunt Nikki's pizza. We laughed, since Nikki was supposed to be taking the pizza home to Uncle Brian. That was, seriously, the only thing Lucy would eat.

We all settled in to sleep around 1 am. My dad and sister decided to stay with us. I know that it wasn't a good night's sleep for them; however, I loved having them there. I seriously loved it. I want to have family sleepovers all the time now! :) Plus, they kept me sane. We had a crazy, humming, taking to herself, nurse. She was an old woman and she had braided her pigtails into buns on top of her head. She moved like one hundred miles per hour and acted like she was on fire. I wanted to strangle her. She was not good with Lucy at all.  It is very true that the nurse makes your experience. We had a different one every day and night.

The next day, my family left. We waited for Dr. A to stop by again. Lucy would go home today - already!  That was alright with us. Dr. A talked again about how "nasty" it was and said that once he made the incision it was like a volcano of puss. Gross. That sure does put it into perspective though. Heath and I wondered if a lymph node didn't burst and that is what caused the swelling to go from little to a lot in such a short amount of time.

They showed us her incision, the drain, and how to change the dressing. We then packed up to leave, via radio-flyer.

We would visit the doctor again the following week. In the meantime, we had to keep an eye on that drain tube.

- To Be Continued -

Scary Times: Part 4

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Where were we? Oh yes - everything was better. We were literally driving in the sunshine, discussing how amazing it felt to have the worry taken off of our shoulders. (Is the worry really ever gone though? Really?)

Later that week, we noticed Lucy's groin area was still swollen. We reassured each other that the surgeon, Dr. A, said that it was normal. We were to only watch for a fever and redness. Neither were prevalent; so, there weren't any problems. Right? Right.

As days continued, Lucy was still acting completely normal. She was perhaps even a bit more active and happy than usual. However, we kept our eyes on the swelling. It was obviously more swollen, because it had moved from just her groin area, into her right labia a little bit. Again, he told us this would happen.

On Saturday morning we decided to take a trip to the pumpkin patch. My mom and Alex were going to come too. I was on the phone with my mom when Heath called to me.

"Cori, it's a lot more swollen."

I didn't expect it to see what I saw. It was alarmingly swollen. I say the word 'alarmingly' because everyone kept trying to down-play it to me when I would describe it to them. Once they saw it, their reaction was, "Whoa!" I was simply shocked. I asked Heath, when he changed her diaper this morning was it that bad? He said no. It was almost like it had just puffed up like crazy in just a few hours.

I told my mom about it and told her I was going to call Children's. I had the number for Dr. A still on my phone. However, I knew he had been on call the weekend before, so I wouldn't be getting a hold of him.  Another doctor answered. I introduced myself and Lucy's case. He was not familiar. That part was kind of frustrating. I told him about the swelling and used the word 'alarmingly'. His reaction was blah. As long as she doesn't have a fever and it isn't read, then no big deal. I'm paraphrasing of course.

I got off the phone, looked at her groin again. That can NOT be normal I told myself.

Heath and I thought that maybe we could give her a bath. Dr. A had said that the soap and water was good for her incision. So, she soaked in the tub, playing, for about 20 or 30 minutes. Afterward, it looked...well, almost worse. It now looked a little purplish. Not quite red though.

I thought to myself, if only I could talk to our doctor, Dr. B. Maybe if I called the hospital, they could contact her for me. It was worth a try. I called the hospital and she was there! She was only in for a couple of hours that day and I managed to catch her. (Thank you to whoever was having a baby that day!)

After I told her about it, she suggested that we just make a trip into the E.R.; she wanted to take a look at it. I was still optimistic. I asked my mom (who was also shocked when she saw it) and Alex to ride along. After the hospital trip, we would head to the pumpkin patch.

We arrived at the E.R. Dr. B had us just sit in the waiting room, so we wouldn't be charged for coming into the E.R. How nice was that? We waited about ten minutes. I was nervous. I sat on a steely, diner-type chair against the wall and watched my mom play with Lucy and Alex. She was always so calm and collected in these situations. I couldn't gage Heath. He sat just to the right of me, watching too. He didn't have a nervous tic like I did. My eyes were drawn to my shaking, right-foot. It was crossed over my left leg and my nerves caused it to move erratically side to side. I immediately put both of my feet on the floor and grabbed the chair. I needed to get myself under control.

Dr. B arrived. As soon as we got Lucy's diaper off, she said, "Oh, yeah. Let me call Children's."

She exited the room. We put Lucy's diaper and pants back on. I asked Heath, "Are we headed back to Omaha?"

His reply, with a regretful face, was, "Sounds like it."

Dr. B came back in after speaking to the same doctor I had called just an hour before hand. They decided that since Lucy was acting normal, we could wait to head back up to Omaha until Monday morning at 9 am. Dr. B thought that the abscess had come back and it was more than likely staph again. Finally, she told us that she thought that the surgeon would have to "go in" this time to clean it out. We took that for what it was worth and didn't ask a lot of questions.

We could take Lucy home, not to the pumpkin patch, and watch her. We couldn't give her pain medicine, because we needed to monitor her for a fever. If she had a fever or didn't act like herself, then we needed to go to the Children's E.R. again. I was scared; but, Dr. B was right. Lucy was completely acting normal. She was having so much fun. I knew though that the next two days and nights would be hell on my nerves.

We picked up Lucy's prescription for another anitbiotic (her fourth) at Walmart. She ran around like a maniac - typical Lucy. It was comforting. It wasn't until that evening, that Lucy changed. Ironically enough, when the Cornhuskers went into the locker room for half-time against Ohio State, down by 21 points, Lucy really started to act oddly. We were all feeling a bit queasy...but Lucy was more than just disgusted with the Huskers' performance. She seemed really tired. She didn't want to walk anymore and she had a temperature of 100 degrees. Heath and I decided to take Lucy to Omaha. We knew that we would never feel comfortable about being home and we wouldn't be able to sleep well knowing that she had a low-grade temperature. After packing some bags, we got out of the house around 10:30 pm.

The drive up I just kept asking Heath, "You don't think they will send us home do you?"

I mean, they didn't send us up there right away the first time. Would they dismiss us this time too?

He assured me that we would be staying the night. Lucy slept on the drive, while we listened to the last few minutes of the Husker game. This trip was much different. I wasn't panicking. I was nervous; but, I knew what to anticipate. I was a pro by now at the processes of Children's - right? Well...that is what I kept telling myself.

We got to the E.R. Nobody had a familiar face; it was a whole new staff. We checked in and were immediately ushered to the first check-up room. Wow - that was a change!  The nurse looked her over. She now had a temperature of 102 degrees. I said aloud, "Good thing we left when we did then. I'm glad we came in."

The E.R. nurse said he would get us a room quicker, since Lucy had been there just a few weeks before. And, that he did! We sat in the waiting room for maybe five minutes. I was much more pleased with our experience this time. We entered the E.R. room. I searched for familiar faces at the nurses' station - none.

The E.R. process was similar. I was doing really well. I had already talked myself through it. I knew that she would have to have blood drawn. I knew that they would need to insert an IV. I knew she wouldn't be able to drink. I was prepared to hold her down. I was not, however, prepared for the nurse to poke around in Lucy's arm for a solid two minutes looking for a vein. It was like watching Lucy get tortured. Heath was having a rough time with it, considering his light-headedness. I was annoyed and felt so bad for Lucy. I actually looked at Heath once, huffed, and shook my head.

"START OVER!" I wanted to yell.

We were finally taken to a room upstairs. We had to explain our story another 20 times. This time our story was much longer....well, as you can imagine. I had to go over parts one through three of our scary journey. I tried to remember all of her antibiotics' names, our family history of illnesses, and the many other facts about Lucy's behavior, eating, drinking, peeing, and pooping behavior, etc.

Since they knew Lucy had staph last time, everyone had to wear face masks, disposable gowns, and gloves in the room with us. Heath and I just stood there in street clothes, apparently taking in the infection - ? I figured they didn't want to spread it all over the hospital.

We were finally left alone to sleep at 2:45 am.

They started Lucy on antibiotics. We would have another CT scan in the morning. No one could tell for sure yet if this was staph again. We didn't even know if this was the same abscess or a different one yet.  Time would tell.

- To Be Continued -

Scary Times: Part 3

[As most of you may know, our Scary Times "saga" continued this last weekend. It looks like this three part story may have just become a 5 or 6 parter. Stay tuned...]

Part 1
Part 2

The last morning in the hospital was bittersweet. We were so ready to go home; but, we were nervous about not having Lucy monitored closely. We, once again, had a night of constant interrupted sleep. It ended with us being woken up at 7 am by the surgeon resident.  In our sleep deprived state, we still somehow found humor...

The surgeon resident, who was of Indian descent, asked if Lucy had been, "em, meeking da farrts?"

I giggled like an immature school girl as soon as he left. I took it as a good sign for my future state of mind. Little did I know that I would be "taking a test" later on that day.

A little after noon, we were visited by the home health care nurses.  Lucy had to be given antibiotics for the next two weeks, even though we were headed home. These antibiotics needed to be administered through the picc line that was inserted during surgery. The picc line was a tube that went into her arm, just above her inner elbow. It ran up her arm and into her heart. It would allow the antibiotics to be centrally dispersed. Surely, only a qualified, medical staff member could administer those right?

Nope. Say hello to nurse Cori and nurse Heath.

We were walked through the process:

First, prime the antibiotic line by attaching the syringe to the tube and pushing out any air. It is important not to have any air in the line, because it goes straight to her heart. Talk about stressful!!!

Then, wipe off the end of the picc line with one, two, three iodine wipes. Let it dry for 30 seconds. During this time do not let the end touch anything. Then, wipe the end of the picc line off with one, two, three alcohol wipes. Again, don't let it touch anything or you have to start over. We couldn't risk any bacteria getting into the line. Then, put in 5 ml of saline. Again, no air. Attach the antibiotic tube. Let the machine (which we also had to learn how to use) push in the antibiotics for the next thirty minutes. When the alarm goes off, you turn off the machine. Before you disconnect the tube, we must again wipe the connection place with three iodine pads, dry 30 seconds, wipe with three alcohol pads. Then, 5 ml more of saline and 2 ml of heparin. No air in either of those syringes, remember!

That isn't too bad for once a day, right? No - it isn't. How about three times a day? Every eight hours? Yep. Awful. We were doing it at 6 am, 2 pm, and 10 pm. And, we had to remember to set the antibiotic out (from the fridge) 30 minutes before, so it wasn't cold. Lucy had to sit still too.

I apparently passed the "absolutely, completely unqualified parental test" that they gave me. Which means, I did it once in front of them and they gave me a handout. Needless to say, I was stressing pretty hard about doing this for the next 10+ days!

In addition to the picc line, we also had to flush her drain and measure the nasty, infected output once a day. Gross...TMI...but it smelt awful. (Grandma and Grandpa: TMI stands for "too much information".)

The days at home were long. I felt like I had a newborn again. Lucy slept awful. It was like she was having night terrors or something. I debated if she was traumatized by the hospital or if she was in pain. Without her being able to talk, your guess is as good as mine. We had to set an alarm to get up around 5:15 am to set out the antibiotic. Day and night were no longer differentiated.

Heath and I were stressed. We were getting on each other's cases. Through all of this, we internalized a lot of our pain. We rarely hugged or patted each other on the back. We forgot to comfort each other. You feel so much like you are the one who needs comforting that you forget that someone else does too. Heath felt it just as much as me. It was difficult to remember.

Thursday came. Lucy was going to get her drain out. Whew! One tube gone and one less thing to worry about. We made the trip to Omaha again, to Dr. A's office. I liked Dr. A. He was comforting. He was real with us. He treated us like real people and not just another face.

Dr. A entered the room. We somewhat dreaded getting the drain out, because of the pain Lucy would feel. But, we looked forward to her being able to run around without tripping on the bag.  The drain came out with ease. No problems there. However, Dr. A had some additional information for us.

"The abscess culture came back. I was expecting to see, well, poop, with the appendicitis. The only bug we saw was....staph."

After the initial shock of hearing "staph", Heath and I gather a few questions in our mind. "How did she get it? So, it isn't appendicitis? How do we know for sure that it wasn't her appendix? What now? How do we explain all of these appendicitis type symptoms?"

Dr. A had no idea how Lucy got a staph infection. Neither did we. Apparently we have staph all over our bodies all the time; it isn't like she got it from someone else. He was pretty sure that it wasn't appendicitis now. Staph commonly settles in the iliopsoas muscle (a muscle that runs from your spine down the right-side of your leg, right next to the appendix). I say commonly, because in adults this is common. Common for Lucy's age? Nope. It is even rarer than appendicitis. Dr. A compared it to getting struck by lighting.

He said he was pretty sure that it was just staph and not appendicitis. Therefore, he recommended that we not go on with the surgery to get Lucy's appendix out. He actually said, "If it was my daughter...(30 second pause)..I'd ride it out."  This didn't exactly provide us with the peace of mind we wanted. We apparently just had to monitor Lucy closely, just in case it was the appendix.

Stressful.

Our minds were reeling. What just happened? Everything we thought we knew was out the window. We were told to continue to the antibiotics per usual and then get the picc line out a week later.

The days continued the same. On Sunday, Heath was administering the antibiotics. When he started the machine, Lucy started coughing and almost gasping for air. Her face turned instantly red and her lips turned blue. Heath yelled for me to come closer. My mind went blank and all I could yell was, "Turn it off!" My heart was sinking. I was trying so hard to remember the rules to infant CPR.

Within a few seconds of turning it off, the color came back to her lips and she was breathing normal. Her face remained dark red. I shakily dialed the number to our local home health care. The nurse, who I didn't know, told me to try the antibiotics again. Yeah, no. So, I called Childrens. Thankfully Dr. A was on call that weekend! I was able to speak with him directly. He said to leave it off and to clamp the picc line back. We would switch to oral antibiotics. He suspected something was wrong with the picc line "mechanics."

That moment was excruciatingly scary. But, we were happy to be done with that damn picc line!

We scheduled a time to go in on Tuesday to get the picc line out - two days before we were originally scheduled. We, again, looked forward to the visit. We wanted all of this to be over. Dr. A took out the picc line with just a snip of a stitch and a tug. He looked and it was clogged. We were basically expanding the tube and blocking her blood flow. Scary. Scary. Scary.

Dr. A took another look at Lucy's abscess site and how it was healing. There was some obvious swelling. It even looked bigger than last time, in Lucy's groin area. He told us to expect the lymph nodes to swell a bit. We were to call him if it got red or if she got a fever. We discussed again the possibility of this all being her appendix. He stuck to his same recommendation. He felt pretty confident that it was just staph.

On the way home, we scheduled an appointment with our doctor, Dr. B. We really, really trust her. We wanted her opinion on the appendix vs. the only staph idea. She told us that the appendix rupture would have included some type of e. coli in the culture results. This culture didn't have that; so, she was pretty certain that this was only staph. She said the only confusion for them was how the heck did Lucy get this? Ditto.

We left her office with the weight off of our shoulders. It was a sunny day and this thing was behind us. We now just had to finish her oral antibiotics on Saturday and we were done...or so we thought.

- To Be Continued -

Scary Times: Part 2

For Part 1, go to: http://www.ilovelucyjean.com/2011/10/scary-times-part-1.html.

After what can only be called an emotional, exhausted, mental breakdown on both our parts, Heath continued to Walmart to get our overnight supplies. I was falling in and out of sleep when he returned. We decided to go into the bathroom to talk and to turn on a light. We didn't want to wake Lucy.

Heath showed me each of the items that he got, and looked for approval on the yoga pants and Huskers shirt he picked up for me at Walmart. Finally, for our culinary delight, he set a fountain drink caddy and a brown fast-food bag on the bathroom counter. Let me tell you something first...

Remember how I mentioned that we had gone to the doctor the day before? Well, when driving through town, I spotted the Burger King sign, "New California Whopper". I started to tell Heath that I had enough bad experiences at Burger King that the thought of even eating there made me want to gag. He kind of chuckled and said that he saw the same sign and thought the same thing. We then had a short 30 second rant on how gross it had become to us.

Guess what logo was on the side of that brown paper bag on the hospital bathroom counter? You guessed it: Burger King. Only in our hellish day could fate throw that type of irony at us. It was the only fast-food place open that late in the immediate area - even McDonalds was closed.

Oddly enough, we laughed. I think when you spend the entire day thanking the Lord for your many blessings, you just stop complaining. We stood in the bathroom, giggling like pre-teen girls who had stayed up too late, stuffing our faces. Heath munched on a chicken sandwich, while I poked around on chicken fingers. They were a little too crispy and were basically all breading. But, if you dipped them in the sauce, simply labeled "Zesty", they weren't too awful. I was more pumped about the fountain drink and swigged that caffeine right down. Heath and I somewhat reflected on the day. We knew there was much more to come though.

The nurses came in throughout the night to check Lucy's vitals. Lucy woke up and cried each time. By this time, she didn't trust any strangers that came in the door. I would help calm her each time they came in.

We woke up around 7 am to several nurses and doctors entering the room. I greeted them with my puffy eyes, no make-up, and morning breath. I'm sure I looked like a gem. Did I mention that I hadn't showered yet either? We were told that Lucy's surgery wouldn't be until the afternoon. This made it a long morning.

Heath decided to head home to get more things. It was obvious that we would be there for a couple more days. This gave me too much time to think. I was alone for about 2 1/2 hours. During that time, I held Lucy in the recliner, squeezed her tight, and well, panicked. I would start thinking about the surgery and start to work myself up so much that I thought I might be sick. My heart was racing and my face was red. I had to talk myself down several times. I've never felt such panic in my life.

I tried to ease my mind by asking one of the random nurses - or doctors or helpers or whoever she was in scrubs - that came in, if I could be with Lucy until she fell asleep from the anesthetic. She said yes. Whew! That made me feel a little better.

Thankfully my Aunt Amy showed up and once I had a good cry with her, I was distracted. It was so nice having someone in the room again, besides Lucy. When my Uncle Matt and Heath showed up, my mind was even more free. I was able to joke and laugh again. My heart stopped beating out of my chest.

Visitors came and went before the surgery that evening. It was originally scheduled for 5 pm...then 5:45 pm....then 6:30 pm....and then I think it was 7 pm when we started to head down. Heath carried Lucy as I held back tears. Some slowly streamed down my face as we walked down the hall and took the slow elevator ride down. Heath's sister, Heather, was crying, as well as my mother-in-law. I couldn't even bring my eyes up from the floor at the fear of losing it completely.

We were taken to a room to wait. A nurse came in to talk to us. Then, the surgeon came in and explained things. Finally, two nurses came to get Lucy. I realized then, that the scrubs lady had lied to me. We weren't going to be with Lucy when she went to sleep. I quickly told the nurse that I was misinformed. She shared my annoyance.

It simply broke my heart. Lucy was taken by a stranger, to an unfamiliar place, and all we could do was wave at her. I wrapped my arms around Heath.

I said, in between crying breaths, "I wanna kick that nurse who told me that!"

I wanted to do more than just kick her; but, my motherly, censored mouth came up with "kick" and kept me from calling her a much worse name.

During surgery, I was again oddly calm and optimistic. Being in the colorful lobby was comforting. Staring at the huge banners about being named the number one children's hospital in two areas of practice was comforting. Family was comforting.

The surgeon came out, said it was done, and it went great. I thought to myself that the hardest part was over. I breathed a sigh of relief and couldn't wait to get to Lucy. I just wanted to squeeze her so tightly. I actually sped walked, following closely.

There she was - puffy and still drowsy from the anesthetic. I hugged her and carried her back to her room. I thought that the night would be a peaceful one. Lucy would sleep...well, like a baby. It would be the best night of sleep she had in a long time. After lots of kisses from family, everyone but Heath's mom, Jeannie, left.

Everyone missed it, but Jeannie.

The morphine. Oh my gosh, the morphine. It caused Lucy to have fits. She didn't want anything touching her. She hit us, the bed, her thousands of cords hooked up to her. She rolled around furiously. She'd shout "owwiee" and "mommy". I'd try to pick her and she'd just hit me and push me away. There was no calming her. This happened all night long. We quickly learned that all we could do was move the cords out of her way and keep her from hitting her head on the bed side. Every time the nurses came in for vitals, it happened.

Jeannie left around midnight, and two morphine induced fits.

At around 2 am, I lost it. I bawled to Heath. I hated watching her like that. I hated hearing her yell "Mommy" and not be able to do anything for her. I cried. I cried hard. I stopped holding my tears back and finally allowed them to flow. I allowed the breath to escape from my lungs. I collapsed and emotionally checked out.

Thank God for my brave husband. He took over for the night, keeping the cords out of Lucy's way during each of her "fits". I sat near the couch and watched from across the room. It was a trying night.

They finally took her off the morphine at around 7 am. Then she slept like a rock. She slept like I had imagined she would sleep the night before. She was peaceful and calm. It was nice...until around 4 pm. Then, it became worrisome.

"Is she supposed to sleep this much? Is this normal"

We finally got her to open her eyes for some apple juice around 5 pm. Then, she saw me eating some macaroni and cheese and opened her mouth for some. Ahh....that was my Lucy! Sometime in between bites she fell back asleep.

Lucy slept for over 24 hours straight. It did allow for us to sleep some too.

The next day, our mission was to get her to eat.

We tried all day. It was a slow process; but, it got better with each meal. Her cousin Alex came to visit her too. They were able to go for a wagon ride around the floor. We ended up in the playroom. Lucy was almost herself. It was a wonderful feeling. Besides her puffiness, the bandages and her drain bag, she looked happy.

She still took long naps; but, at least she played in between.

Things were looking up and it really did seem like the worst was behind us. All we had to do now was wait for the second surgery...

- To Be Continued -

Scary Times: Part 1

Where have I been? Well, most of you know. But, here is my completely un-Halloween related scary story - the worst type of scary...

Lucy had been fighting something. She was having the occasional fever and she had been tugging on her ear. She was even turning her pacifier to the side and chewing on it. I thought for sure she was teething, with her two-year molars, and the ear infection came with it.

I stayed home with her a few days and it seemed like she got better. Later that week it came back; but, this time it didn't subside. Finally, we decided to take her to the doctor. She needed to get that ear infection taken care of.  On that Wednesday morning, we took her in. She had one ear infection and the other ear was getting one too. Poor girl. We picked up some oral antibiotics and headed home.

That night Lucy started to say, "Ouchie." We had also started to notice her favoring her leg. We thought for sure that she had hit her knee at DayCare or something similar. But, by the next day, the favoring had become a limp, and she wouldn't even put weight on her right leg. I continued to think it had nothing to do with her fever and ear infections. Why would it?  Heath got paranoid enough that he decided to call our doctor.

"Cori, Dr. B sounded really concerned. She wants me to bring Lucy in right away."

At that point it was still unclear to us how the two could be linked. We had done some googling that only left us freaked out. Apparently, an infection can settle in a joint...like a hip joint.

We walked into the same waiting room that we were just in the day before. This time, our hearts were beating just a bit faster. I kept telling Heath, and myself, "It's going to be alright. She'll be just fine."

Our doctor didn't seem to be nervous or worrisome. It helped calm our nerves. She said she wanted to take an x-ray, to make sure it wasn't her hip bone, and that they wanted to take some blood. They took some blood and while the test was running, we were escorted to the x-ray room. It took both of us to hold her down.

The x-ray? Normal.

Great. We sat in the examination room, playing with a puzzle. There was an odd sense of optimism.

The next few moments were kind of a blur. The doctor walked in, accompanied by three nurses. She didn't say anything but, "Lucy is very sick."

I know that she followed up by saying that she was sending her to Children's Hospital, they would run an IV, and that Lucy's white blood cells were doubled. I just can't remember in what order. I was still stuck on, "Lucy is very sick."

I'd be lying if I said that cancer hadn't crossed my mind.

I managed to muster, "So, she'll be going by ambulance?"

"Yes. I'll call and they will be expecting you."

We asked what she thought it could possibly be. She said an infection in her joint or possibly even her appendix, which would be very rare.

In the blur of movement and conversation, we had to hold Lucy down for the nurses to insert an IV. Heath sat in the corner chair, unable to watch the needle penetrate Lucy's skin. I stood over Lucy, telling her that it would be okay - not knowing if I was lying or not. My fearful tears began to fall near Lucy's head.

The doctor re-entered to tell us that Children's had requested Lucy to come in "as-is". That way they could run accurate tests once she arrived. We were then given the option to drive her up; we took it.

As long as the drive to Omaha should have been, it really wasn't. We took turns calling our family members and trying to give them a run-down of what just happened. I only called my mom and started crying so hysterically, that Heath had to call everyone else for me. It was rough; but, Heath was so brave for me and Lucy. I am very thankful.

We entered the ER at Children's to wait for almost two hours. My fear turned to annoyance and then quickly to anger. I watched a girl with a sprained ankle go in before us. Didn't they know that Lucy was "very sick"? Being in an urban hospital was very different than what I was used to. We were literally just being shuffled around. We met numerous nurses and doctors. We had to retell our story to several people.

We finally made it to an ER examination room at about 5:30 pm. They took more blood, while I had to hold Lucy down again. They also took her vitals and looked in her ears. The IV also needed replaced to be compatible with their equipment. It was very hard for me to accompany them, holding Lucy still, against her will. I just wished I could explain to her what was going on.

We asked the ER nurse what they thought it was. He said that they were testing her for blood infections and so on. He explained a little more; but, my mind stayed wrapped around blood infection. It scared me.

Every time Heath and I were in the room alone, we would obsess over what was going on and all the horrible, possible outcomes. Thank goodness I had scared my mom on the phone enough that she had immediately headed north, with my sister and her family. They came just at the right time. I was verging on a complete breakdown.

One of the several doctors we met with ordered an ultrasound. By the time we go into the ultrasound room, it was about 8:30 pm. They found no fluid on her hip joint. So, basically, it was back to the drawing board. The tech called the radiologist. He said to check her ovaries. That scared me too. I shuttered at the thought of little Lucy not being able to have children of her own. At some point, they also checked her appendix.

We were ushered back to the room and then told that her appendix had an abscess (a pocket of infection). It had more than likely ruptured. They wanted to do a CT scan, to confirm. We finally had the CT scan at around 10:30 pm. My family had left once they found out more about what was going on.

Again, we had to hold Lucy down while they strapped her in. She was so tired at that point; we all were. Thankfully she fell asleep in the machine. The CT confirmed an abscess around the appendix. It was also surrounding her bladder, her ovaries, her hip muscles, lower intestine, and I think they even said it involved her uterus. Apparently her immune system was so good that her organs walled the infection in. They kept it in one place - thank God.

We were told that the area was too inflamed and had a lot of puss, etc. around it. They couldn't take her appendix out without first cleaning the abscess out. They would have to do surgery to drain out the infection. Then, she would have to wear a bag for a week. The infection would continue to drain out, into the bag. It sounded like we had at least a couple months of this stuff left. But, for the night, we would have to stay in the hospital. Lucy would have surgery scheduled for the following day.

We finally got into a room at midnight. The day marked what would be one of the longest days of my life. Once the floor nurses poked and prodded on Lucy again, while I held her down for the hundredth time, we were left alone.

Heath was in street clothes and I had come from work, so I stood there in dress slacks and high heels. Of course, the one freaking day I actually wear heels! We decided that I would stay with Lucy. He would run out to get us some food, some pajamas, and some toothbrushes.

He left and I just sat there watching Lucy. I started to cry and pray again; but, very few tears fell. I think I was out of tears for the day. Little did I know, but Heath was sitting in the parking lot crying and praying too. Brave faces are hard to sustain. Sometimes all you can do is ask God for help and for the strength to make it through the following days.

- To Be Continued -

Stalker?

You may call it stalking. I call it being lonely.

Wait, that is still pretty stalker-ish to say.

I call it talking pictures of someone when they don't know you are there.

Wait.

Well, I guess I am a stalker. I'm a Lucy stalker. :)

Since I can't go visit Lucy as DayCare anymore (sad), I still walk by occasionally and peak in windows. Alright, alright. That is the epitome of stalker.

Who knew I had an inner creeper this entire time?

I just sometimes wonder what she is doing, if she is having fun, if she misses me, and so on. It's tough being a full-time working mom. I miss her lots of days.

Taking pictures and peaking are my only fix. Creepy or not.

Do you think of your kids all day, while at work? Would you creep too?

Poison Control Hotline

I've seen these lines on babysitting lists. And, I once watched a 'Punky Brewster' episode where they had to call it.

Did I ever really think I would call a poison control hotline? No. Never. We lock up the medicine and all of the cleaning products. Lucy would never get into that stuff.

Now, the question you are wanting answered: Did I call them? Maybe. Don't panic though; this is a mild story.

We will begin with me and Lucy, again, in the master bathroom. I was putting on my makeup and perhaps pestering a few facial blemishes. Lucy was digging through my travel bag, still packed from a trip we took last weekend. She used my brush to brush her hair. She moved my nail polish from the floor, to the top of the toilet, to the tub edge, and so on. She chewed on the lid of my perfume. I was watching and there weren't any choking hazards. I took away my perfume and any other liquids she could spray.

So, when she got quiet, I didn't immediately get concerned. I turned around and she had my deodorant in one hand, the lid in the other, and her mouth was wide open. By looking at my deodorant I could see the teeth marks. She didn't bite it; she just sunk her teeth into it. Little flecks of white were all over her tongue. I tried helping her wipe it out and promptly took my deodorant away.

My first thoughts? It's just deodorant; it can't hurt her. I'm sure I have accidentally eaten or licked deodorant in my time. I know for sure the dogs have eaten it!
Just to be safe, I turned it over.

I said aloud, "Are you freaking kidding me? Luuuuucyyyyy."

I picked up my phone and googled "Poison Control Center".

I called.

Ring.Ring.Ring.

I kept thinking, how am I going to explain this? I'm going to sound like an awful parent!

Ring.Ring.

"Hello, is this an emergency or can you hold?"

"Ummm.....I can hold?"

Thoughts: Oh no! Was that the right answer?

Several minutes went by, as I watched Lucy play. I started to regret my decision to hold.

"Thank you for holding. What is your emergency?"

"Well, my 18 month old daughter got into my deodorant and got some in her mouth. She didn't swallow it; I don't think. She just scraped it with her teeth. I read on the back that I should call right away."

"Yes. They put that one all products. What type of deodorant was it?"

"Dove Fresh."

"Is it a solid?"

Thoughts: Really? Does that matter? And, what do you mean they put that on all products? All deodorant products? Do they just want people to panic?

"Yes. It's a solid."

 "Alright. There isn't anything harmful in that product. You can just give her some drinks of milk or water. If she swallowed a large amount, she may have an upset stomach and might vomit."

"Okay. She didn't swallow any. She is acting normal. I will give her some milk. Thank you."

"Now, can I have your name and telephone number for our records?"

Thoughts: GREAT! I'm going to be on some child protective services list now! I can officially never call back or they will red flag me or something!

Reluctantly, I gave her my name, my telephone number, and my zip code. I'm officially a bad mom and on "the list". Perhaps I should never allow Lucy in the master bathroom again - bad things happen in there! :{

I have a whole new respect for the poison control center. I never would have thought...

Paranoia, Paranoia...

...every body's comin' to get me.

As I have previously confessed to my blog readers, I am a paranoid person. The worst. Annoyingly paranoid sometimes.  To boot, my cup often remains half empty. (I'm working on it though! We'll call it somewhat of a New Year's Resolution.)

Any-who, instead of channeling all of my paranoia toward Lucy, I've moved to illnesses. I've never been a hypochondriac; it is the whole idea of, 'it couldn't happen to me.'  Well, lately, I have had these eerie feelings like, "You know what? It could happen to me!" Perhaps now that I am moving out of my young adulthood, into actual adulthood, I am losing my "invincibility."

I had told you about the lump/bump on my breast. And, I strongly encouraged everyone to get questionable things check out.  Well, I didn't exactly listen to my own recommendation...

I have had a weird mole on the back of my leg, more specifically a place that touches the tanning bed. Yes - I tan in a tanning bed occasionally (I know; I know). It has bothered me for years.  Semi-recently, I read another blog about a young mother who had a mole on the back of her leg, put it off, and when she finally went in, she had stage 4 lymphoma.  Yikes!

The mole never seemed to fit into a conversation with my doctor or I would forget about it at during the appointment.  As more time went by it started to really bother me. I would be feeling sick and I would start to blame the mole.  Or, I would be achy and I would blame the mole.  Everything that was wrong with me was somehow related to that thing!  (This may sound somewhat familiar. I used to think everything I felt meant that I was pregnant.)

I had the flu and it passed. I had a sinus infection, gave it to the entire family, and it has almost passed too.  Then, the bumps. I was itching my hand one night watching TV, looked down and I had red bumps all over my thumb.  They itched and then began to hurt and even sting a little. I let it go for a week and a half, and three fingers, before giving in and going to the doctor. Don't fret; they weren't gross or I would have gone sooner.

Ends up, I have a form of Eczema. Joy!  Since when did I become such a medical case?  Good news is: it isn't contagious, isn't a big deal, and it will come and go.  Also, it should stay on my hands and not really move to other areas of my body.

And, I finally had the mole looked at!  It doesn't need to come off right away; but, my doctor wants to remove it next month, just in case.  Whew. That will be nice!

My level of paranoia has gone down; but now, something new happened...

Today, I was sitting on the floor, holding Lucy, and along came a little boy.  He calls Lucy his girlfriend, although she is a year and a half younger. It's cute. He will even come up to her and give her kisses on the cheek sometimes.

Anyway, today, he was super affectionate. He bent over, gave her a kiss, very close to her mouth. This time, he kept his eyes open, unlike before (haha). He then stood back up, smiled at me, put his finger in his nose, pulled out a booger, ate it, and ran away.

"Hmmmm......gross"...that was about the reaction I had. I don't know what to think. How am I supposed to feel about this one?  Technically my paranoia should be off the charts. Why isn't it? He ate his own booger less than 2 feet away from me. 

I guess I figure with DayCare this type of thing happens all the time.  Plus, the little boy is clean, he just apparently eats his own boogers...

I should be freaking out right?  Or not? Should I worry about Lucy getting sick and germy?

Heath laughed when I told him. I don't think he's too concerned. 

What do you think? Is my paranoia radar broken today?