I die every single day. Because when you are a mom, all of your plans are always subject to change. The day moves along as usual and, of course, you make plans, but out of nowhere they can change. This is what happened to us last week. I’d planned to go for a swim once Spence got home from work, but then Sabra started crying. Like really crying. Not whining, but screaming her head off – someone cut off my foot-level of crying.
We couldn’t get her to calm down, so after about an hour of wails, we turned to urgent care. They took her rectal temperature and followed protocol, but when they couldn’t find anything wrong, and shrugged that their labs were down, they dealt us the Austin default: “We’re going to have to transfer you to Dell.”
It was dinnertime – read rush hour – so Spence (before his back re-herniated) and I decided to split up. He would feed Brooks and put him down and I would haul our screaming baby across town to the place of nightmares for mothers everywhere. Dell Children’s Hospital is almost a curse word in mom vocab.
Somehow, my sweet baby fell asleep for the hour it took us to inch our way toward central Austin. After another hour of locating a parking space, we finally checked in at the ER. They were expecting our transfer, but that didn’t make the wait any shorter. Also, her crying suddenly switched back to normal baby crying.
Once we funneled through triage, I wondered if maybe it wasn’t just gas all along. When the second rectal showed no fever and I felt a few toots on my lap while waiting, I called Spence.
“That’s not the cry,” he immediately said after hearing her from the other end of the line. It wasn’t. We agreed that maybe it was gas and she’d probably be fine.
I gathered my baby load and headed back to the check-in. “We’re going to go,” I said, squinting my nose to portray some sense of authority. “I think it was just gas.”
The lady looked at me like I was the worst mother who ever lived. “I’d get her checked out if I were you.” Her tone of voice trumped my crinkled nose. I promptly wheeled my snap ‘n go back to the waiting area.
We waited our night away, and after a number of tests and a slew of docs who couldn’t find anything wrong with our baby girl, I signed the $250 bill for our copay and we drove back home.
Of course I wouldn’t have been able to sleep that night if we had just gone home when I thought the coast was clear. And, yes, the confirmation of my suspicions was probably worth the 250 bucks, but at the end of the day it was about dying to myself. It was about sacrificing dinner and my body, my money and my time because I love this little blue eyed wonder more than anything.
So, in essence, these are the only plans I have that aren’t subject to change:
- being present for my kids
- leaving the Facebook app off my cell phone
- loving them
- pointing them towards Ultimate Love and the Reason they have been entrusted to us
- putting their needs before my own (at least while they are little and almost totally rely on me)
So, that’s my agenda and I’m stickin’ to it! I mean look at this face….