kidney check report cards and “if its not one thing its another…”

Luckily baby’s vitals and overall conditions improve by early morning and we are released as the first morning sun shine in through the large hospital windows. Of course I haven’t gotten any sleep and am exhausted but grateful to be getting out of this place. With some last signatures and the parking validated by an admitting ER nurse, I put baby in the carrier, swing the hot pink diaper bag over my shoulder and we head out of there.

It’s already determined that baby’s kidneys are immature and prone to infections but it’s important to see that they are maturing and that they look right. My little girl gets an A on her ultrasound both for kidney structure and behavior (although she does have a leaky poopy diaper all over the table they lay her on-ops!)

Baby does get an F during the catheter process however, at least when it comes to behavior. The nurse finds it difficult to put it in such a little baby (although she is not that little anymore) but does manage after several attempts. The hardest thing for me is the task of holding baby down so the nurses and doctor can work. They keep directing me to hold her more steadily and keep telling me about the importance of holding both her head and arms still. All the while baby is hysterical. Any level of previous crying-even in the ER- was practice for this. I keep asking if they are hurting her and make the decision to leave numerous times in my head. How come my daughter is freaking out if they are NOT hurting her?

They assure me that they are not, but that it’s simply uncomfortable. I try to think back to my brief bed rest catheter and the one during childbirth(s). The first one was way more “uncomfortable” then the second one(s) – let’s just say a lot was going on other than a large piece of metal (?) being shoved into me. I do remember something bordering pain while still pregnant in that large hospital bed though, but it does make me feel slightly better knowing that it doesn’t really hurt a lot. If she would only stop struggling and howling though, little girl is only making it worse! But try telling her that, my poor princess.

Every time I think she is too exhausted to cry anymore, she is just catching her breath for the next “cry fest”, louder and, if possible, even sadder than the previous one. As I reach my breaking point, insisting that we simply can’t do this (but realizing in the back of my mind that it is important to know the functioning of our baby’s kidneys), it’s done. Just like that – it’s over. It’s seems that not only baby and I are exhausted but the three (!) nurses and doctors too.

I get my own room and some warm blankets (baby is shaky and sobbing after that adventure), so I can breastfeed in peace. Leaving the doctor’s office I feel glad that we were able to finish the procedure and relieved that the doctor could tell us that everything looked good and that the kidneys were maturing nicely. We get the full report in about a week.

I just want to go straight home and leave all the worry behind us. I want to feed my dog, hug my preschooler and have dinner be my greatest “worry” now. Unfortunately I have to get gas. This is not a chore I adore…quite the opposite, but little do I know that this time it won’t only be annoying but borderline scary…

Let’s just say that the hospital and these doctors’ offices aren’t in the nicest part of town. In fact this neighborhood is quite “shady”. It is early morning and I really can’t make it another exit (forgot that the gas light was on, on our way to the hospital last night) so I stop at the small gas station down the road. It’s deserted and the little shop is closed. I start putting my debit card in the slot and typing in my pin as a large white truck pulls up. I tell myself to keep my eyes down, hurry at the pump so I can jump back in my car and lock all door as the guy getting out of the passenger seat of the truck looks a bit… scary (for lack of a better word).

Baby girl snoozes peacefully in the backseat and I just want to get back home (before she wakes up- the girl does not like being in that car seat) but the man walks right over. He has a big distorted grin on his face as he yells “hey you! Stop right there, I want to talk to you”.  I’m trying to breathe as I’m maneuvering the pump, there is really no time to get back in the car- why does this always happen to me?

About jennym

A doctor of psychology and a mother of three writing about the struggles and joys and the ups and downs of motherhood, marriage, pregnancies, deliveries and her absolute love for her children in a humoristic yet down to earth weekly blog!

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