I’ve waited a long time to talk about what’s in this post. I briefly mentioned it in this guest post, but never on my actual blog.
Many of you know I have a beautiful little girl who is full of spunk, sass and life. She recently turned two and I honestly couldn’t imagine my life without her.
Without question, being her Mama is the single most amazing thing I have ever accomplished in my life.
What some new follower’s don’t know, is the weeks surrounding her arrival were a difficult time for my family. Fist off, getting her here was a challenge. Cliff note version: 4 days of labor that ended in an emergency C-section where she was born not breathing.
Then came the hard part.
Shortly after my daughter was born. My ‘Mom sense’ had been sounding an alarm in my head for a couple days. Each time I called the doctor I was told it was “because I was a new mom” and not to worry. The likelihood of it being anything bad was so slim I “was just overreacting” as I was repeatedly told by everyone at my pediatrician’s office.
I didn’t think I was overreacting. What I thought was people brush off any concern a new parent has simply because they are a new parent. You see, I realize I didn’t go to Medical school, but I certainly didn’t make it though Law School without obtaining the ability to research. So I started digging.
Whenever my daughter slept I was reading medical journals, and peer reviewed studies. I was looking up articles written by top notch medical professors and professionals. I became incredibly well versed in what could cause the symptoms my daughter had because my gut was telling me something was wrong.
I called the doctor one last time, heard again how I was overacting, but still insisted on an appointment.
It turns out I wasn’t overreacting at all. We left the doctor’s visit in a controlled panic (yes, that’s a thing)! The doctor told me I needed to get my daughter to the Children’s hospital as soon as possible because her life may depend on it. My perfect baby girl had internal intestinal bleeding that no one could explain.
Once we arrived at the Hospital we were taken back very quickly so they could run a series of tests. I never left her side. I even made them put a lead coat on me because I refused to leave her alone during an X-Ray. We were admitted to the hospital once some of my worst fears were confirmed from the test results.
We had three entire teams of doctors trying to figure out what was going on with my daughter. Three whole teams! About 25 doctors in total (yes, I counted). Not one of these teams could agree with the other. Every team thought it was something different, and every team cited the exact same symptoms as to why they were right and the other teams were wrong. All the things it could be were bad, some worse than others, and every singe one had a different treatment plan.
My Husband and I were told to decide what to do. The reality being my daughter’s life quite literally depended on that one decision.
I’ve always heard there are defining moments in lives. A moment that would change most of your thinking instantaneously. I never fully understood this concept until right at that moment. Sitting in the hospital room with my Husband. Looking at our daughter who was barley 2 weeks old, hooked up to IV’s and other machines. Desperately praying for guidance while trying to decided what treatment plan to go with. Full well knowing this one decision would impact the rest of our lives one way or another.
Many experience the defining and wonderful moment of becoming a parent. However, the defining moment of genuine fear of losing your child, coupled with the real possibility of it actually happening is a moment no parent should ever have to go through.
We made a decision and went with a treatment plan. The day before we were discharged from our week long stay I wanted a follow up test done (an ultrasound). We had been going along with the treatment plan but had no way to gauge if it was working or not. The doctor refused and wanted to just send us home. So I refused to go home.
The ‘General’ pediatric doctor we were working with was annoyed with me most of the week due to the volume of questions I asked. So when I was told they wanted to discharge us without following up on her condition I broke into Lawyer mode. I don’t care who you are, or what certifications you have, no follow up regarding a life threatening situation is negligent. The sheer fact that my daughter was still alive was NOT enough evidence to prove she was healed enough to go home.
The Doctor’s argument being she wasn’t sure what the test would find (NO JOKE) and didn’t want to do more harm by finding bad news because she took an oath to do no harm.
I can’t even make this up.
I remember vividly telling the doctor “That’s the equivalent of finding a lump and not getting it tested because it might be cancer. Bad news or not you get the test.” The doctor quickly left our room and told me (I-kid-you-not) she “Doesn’t have time for this kind of drama.”
Apparently Higher Up Doctors at the Hospital agreed with me and had her order the test. It came back with good news because the treatment was working and we were able to leave the next day.
I remember every second of that week long stay. I remember the fear I had running into the ER with her, I remember crying in her room every night just praying she would be ok. I remember it all like it was yesterday. These moments will forever and always be seared into my memory.
I can’t even make it though writing this post without crying I remember the feelings so well. The thing is they aren’t sad tears, they are thankful ones. Thankful because my daughter is still here. Thankful because going through this changed me to my core. It gave me the ability to appreciate everything motherhood has to throw at me. Even in the middle of a grocery store melt down I’m thankful, because had we made a different decision sitting in that hospital room, I may very well have been robbed of those experiences.