Monday, January 31, 2005


Did you know that every time I take my kid out in public, someone inevitably says, "Ooh, is somebody tired?" in that little baby voice that so annoys me? I always want to answer, "Well I would think so, since I've kept her up for the last three day in revenge for the first few weeks after she was born!" Instead I say that actually she just woke up from her nap (that's why I am browsing at the bookstore instead of taking her home and putting her to bed) and that she just has a sleepy look about her. She must, anyway, because seriously, every single goddamn time I am out they say something. I know it isn't a big deal, really, it isn't like anyone is being insulting or insensitive or anything like that (except for the couple of times somebody added "she should be home in bed" afterwards), it is just EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I am channeling all my fear and rage into the previous little rant because we took the tour of the children's hospital today and watched the little video about going in with your child to anesthesia. You know, NICUs are quiet places. The babies in them are so sick that when they cry it is this little mewling sound that is further muffled by the incubators, most of the time. All you hear are the beeps of the monitors, and the low voices of the nurses and visitors. It's kind of creepy when you think about what sounds are missing. But on the pediatric surgery floor? Just these strange, strangled baby cries that made me want to claw my skin off and run away. And those giant metal hospital cribs give me the heebie-jeebies. I remember them from when my brother had eye surgery as a preschooler, and they must have scared me then or something because I get this unformed fear in my chest when I see them. And best of all, it turns out there is a higher risk of complications of anesthesia for my daughter because of her condition. They are aware of the issues and they thought she handled things all right during her outpatient surgery, but they will have to keep an extra eye out.

The video kept stressing that if it was hard for you, you didn't have to take your child back to the OR, they could go back with a nurse. I kept thinking, hard for ME? If I can't suck it up for the ten minutes it will take to comfort my child while they are sedated, I don't know what kind of parent I am.

The doctor doing Peanut's surgery is also doing the surgery of another baby with arthrogryposis, a little boy just about her age from this area. The last time I was in there, I asked him to tell her I would like to talk with her if she wanted to talk with me. She did, and I have her phone number. I am very nervous about doing so, though I don't know why. I am looking forward to it, but it will take me some time to gather courage. Maybe I'm afraid of seeing her child? That he'll be doing better than Peanut, and I'll feel worse? Or that she'll be the one in better shape, and then I'll feel like a giant whiny loser for complaining? Who am I kidding, I am a giant whiny loser anyway, but I don't always need to be reminded of this. Anyway, wish me luck.


Anonymous said...

Of the three words I would use to describe you, "giant whiny loser" are really near the bottom of the list. "Brave" would be one of them, I think.

Anyway, you're really one of my sock-puppets. Or so says some Canadian lunatic on Usenet.

C in B

PS wubba to Peanut.

Carrie's Mom (and damn proud of it) said...

No, no - I think your response should be along the lines of: "Oh, that's just because I drug her heavily before we go out. I hate it when children act up in public."
And, by the way, yo' mama didn't raise no giant,whiney, losers!