You know what, let me put a different spin on it... Instead of complaining about how hard yesterday was, let me tell you how amazing my daughter is.
Next week she'll be 10-months old. She's a baby still, so my expectations are low in terms of her maturity and empathy. This must be why she always surprises me.
I've been having leg problems since I gave birth to her. It comes and goes, so I honestly think it's related to how active E is on any given day and how active I have to be to keep up with her. This week, out of the blue, it got worse. I'm still in the "all is okay" mindset, but my doctor had concerns. Blah.
I made my appointment yesterday for 2:20 in the town where E has day care. I picked her up at 1. By the time I got there, got her ready to leave, and got her day report, it was too late to go back home. So I panicked a bit.
Now I'm out with a 10-month old for 2 hours who had lunch an hour ago. I have no snacks, no diapers, no wipes, no toys. I had to pee.
I stopped at a cafe and got a salad. I figured I'd share it with her but didn't realize until after that they had tossed nuts in it -- not baby safe. Ugh. In order to use a restroom with E, I had to put her on the floor (Ew!) under my sweater and hope she didn't scream. I explained to her that I wasn't leaving her there. The thought of a mother doing that made me want to barf in the toilet. I pushed back the nausea and with all my other anxieties and got out of there as fast as I could. E, trusting me completely, sat and giggled at herself in front of a full-length mirror on the floor.
I scooped her up and planted a huge thank-you kiss on her cheek. I got to the car and realized I still had 50 minutes until my appt., and E was getting a little restless. For the heck of it, I called the doctor's office to see if they had an earlier opening. They didn't but said if I got over there right away they may fit me in sooner.
I drove there, signed in, and got camped out on the floor with E, with my salad. She wasn't content with me sitting in a chair, and I don't blame her. Mamas should be close and easily accessible. Once secure in the fact that I couldn't get away from her very quickly, she played contentedly, ventured around a bit, pulled herself up on a table, and asked me "want dat?" in the direction of everything she wasn't supposed to play with. She respected my nos and opted to play with her iPod (an old one of mine I found in my purse).
Just as I was opening my salad and taking my first bite, they called me. I patiently scooped up my salad, my fork, E's iPod, my coat, her coat, her hat, my purse, and E herself, and headed in. I didn't realize the fork was sticking out from under my arm as I walked through the waiting room door and unintentionally scraped some wallpaper off the wall. I blame the nurse for not helpin' a mother out.
E quietly sat with me through the preliminary checks -- blood pressure (higher than usual but okay), pulse (always high), and temp (a Mama-cool 98.7 degrees).
When the clock struck 1:45 (previously 2:45 -- beyond E's nap time), all hell broke loose.
Side note: Daylight Savings means nothing to me any more. My time is measured in naps and feedings, my schedule determined by the cranky cry of a baby. How... liberating? Am I really writing that word?
"Hell" for E is whining, not listening to me, getting into trouble, and interacting with strangers in odd ways... A little embarrassing and stressful for me but ultimately bearable and downright funny at times.
I know I heard the doctor say:
"This has been going on too long...
"...concerned about your leg pulse..."
"...concerned about leg weakness..."
"We want to run some tests..."
"Does anyone in your family have lupus?"
And though I'm 99.9% sure they're just being thorough and cautious, I usually freak out. I hate diseases, needles, and despise blood-work, but I just nodded and smiled as they explained the 9 (yuck) tests they want to do.
And while all that was going on, I just played with E... kept her from using the foot pedal to raise the patient table up and down, laughed at her when she made funny faces at the doctor -- showing off her new teeth. I played blocks and sang to her to keep her from pushing the nurse's legs while she took 6 tubes of blood from my arm, and after 6 minutes of it, when I thought I couldn't take it any more, I looked into E's eyes, almost pleadingly, praying to God for strength, and he gave it to me instantly in the form of the biggest, goofiest, widest 8-tooth smile I had ever seen.She crawled over to me, and wrapped an arm around my leg as the nurse said, "We're done!"
Two more tests at the hospital today then hopefully no more! E will be at day care, and Mark is going with me.
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