Flashback to this morning. I go in to get him once he wakes up only to find that his entire crib, pillow, sheets, blanket, and himself are covered in diarrhea. He has had diarrhea since Thursday and it has gotten worse and worse. He has been fussy, he hasn't eaten much, and I know something is wrong. I decided we would go ahead and get dressed and go straight to the doctor. We would be there when they opened at 8 am, and we were. This is not something I do often. I am not one of those moms who rush to the doctor at every sniffle but I do know when something is wrong with my child. I also knew that yes, I could wait an hour until they opened and then call and leave a message, wait hours for them to return my phone call only to tell me I could come in hours later, but I decided to chance it and be there when the doors opened.
When I got there the receptionist reminded me that I really needed to have an appointment. I apologized and told her that we live so far away and just decided to come on so we could be there when they opened. End of discussion, right? It should have been except that when she called me back up to pay my copay, she again reminded me that next time I needed to have an appointment. I told her I understood and that I called on Friday and it took them hours to call me back. There was a brief exchange in which I told her that if it was not such a big deal, I would have called, as I usually do. She tells me it may be hours for me to wait - fine.
About 15 minutes later we are called back. The doctor checks Walker out and decides we need to run some tests. They checked his white blood cell count, ran some tests to make sure his liver is functioning correctly, and sent me home with a tube to collect a stool sample. They had to draw blood from Walker's arm and the thought of that broke my heart but my heart broke again when they actually did it. Not only did the nurse lose his vein and poke around in his little arm for well over 2 minutes but by the end of that he had ripped off the bandaid and because there was no pressure applied, there was a huge knot forming on his arm. The nurses took him from me, held him down, and applied pressure to the knot. All the while he is screaming, understandably.
I'm sure the ladies in the waiting room had no idea the hell that my poor baby had gone through back there. They had no idea that he was being poked and prodded and some idiot nurse lost his vein and continued to dig that needle around in his arm. But instead of being sympathetic and understanding that we are in a doctor's office so he may just not be feeling well or have had some tests done, instead they shot me the most judgmental looks and snide comments.
I got into the car and after holding the bandaid on Walker's arm for 10 minutes so the knot did not reappear, I began to drive home, and I just lost it. Tears strolled down my face uncontrollably. I was upset that my baby was sick. I was upset that I still do not know what is wrong with him because the tests will take 3-5days to come back. And I was upset that people are so mean and judgmental.
I remember when Walker was a newborn. I remember being so embarrassed if he would cry in a store and I would apologize and try to leave as soon as possible. I also remember when I was in a store by myself shopping and there was a lady with a newborn who was crying. She walked by me with a horrified look on her face, and I smiled at her, and told her it was okay. I understood.
There is something about becoming a mother that makes some people feel like they have the right to judge other mothers. I really do not understand it. It's a tough job and it could really go a long way if we would all support each other instead of judging. I know that nobody wants to hear my sweet boy screaming. Trust me, as much as YOU do not want to hear it, I don't want to hear it a million times more.
The only difference is that while it annoys you, it breaks my heart.
