Six Month Checkup, Part I

Bigga's six-month checkup was today ... but nothing to report. Just as we got started, the office received a call that the gas station next to the building was on fire and we had to evacuate. So I grabbed all our stuff, hoisted my half-naked baby under my arm and dashed out the back door. And this is what we found:

Damn! They weren't kidding. I'll admit it was hard to make my nosy self actually leave the scene, but I figured my super-cautious pediatrician wouldn't approve of me standing around with a baby next to a gas station fire, especially with all the mini-explosions we could hear. And even I knew it wouldn't be a good scene if the pumps and tanks went up too, so I snapped a quick pic and got us out of there lickety-split.

The crazy thing is that I was planning to go to that station next to get my leaky tire fixed. And, as Mr. P pointed out, thank goodness I didn't leave my car there and just walk over to the appointment. I would definitely be sans car. Disorganization wins out in this case because I thought Bigga's appointment was at 10:30, but it was actually at 10:00 so I didn't have time to get there early.

And maybe it was a good thing after all that the doctor didn't get a good look at my kid today. First of all, he was DIRTY. I won't actually admit to how long it's been since he's had a bath. And, unbeknownst to me, he must have pooped just after he woke up this morning. I didn't realize it until I got Kiddle out the door to school, so by the time I changed him, his butt was looking a bit red and ugly. Plus, his ears needed to be q-tipped desperately. Fortunately for him, he doesn't seem to have inherited Mr. P's nasty ear wax (like Kiddle did), but his ears were looking pretty gross. And, to top it all off, I trimmed his nails the other day and obviously shaped one of his big toenails into a tiny little dagger. He has long red scratches all over the back of one leg. So he wasn't exactly the best example of maternal care today. Sorry Bigga Bit!

Half of that's been remedied (bath, ear cleaning). Still need to fix his toe, but at least he's clean. I'm starting to think he won't be as blond as Kiddle, but it was hard to tell with all that oil and grime. But even post-bath, I still think that. Only time will tell.

One little monkey jumping on the bed ...

He fell off and bumped his head. Mama called the doctor and the doctor said, "Get that monkey to the ER for a CT scan!"

Man, I've got myself one mobile little monkey. I was changing Bigga's diaper on my bed early this morning, when Kiddle asked me to put Diego on for him. I made sure Bigga was smack dab in the middle and positioned so he'd roll either toward the headboard or the footboard, then went to help Kiddle. I was on my way back to the bed less than a minute later ... and heard a big THUD, followed by a piercing shriek. Damn kid had rolled DIAGONALLY down the bed and right off the corner by the footboard. And, boy, he was PISSED.

It took a bit to get him settled down, but he eventually got over it and took his morning nap on schedule. And even slept over an hour — despite the fact I was hovering over him, checking his breathing every two minutes. But when I was nursing him after his nap, I noticed some swelling on the side of his head. Uh oh.

To say I'm an underreactor when it comes to falls and runny noses and head bonks is an understatement. But even though he was alert and generally happy and not showing any typical signs of a concussion, I didn't feel good about this one. We dashed over to the pediatrician's office and she sent us on to the ER for a CT scan, just to rule out a skull fracture. Or, as it turns out, rule one IN. Yep, he's got a small fracture on the right side. But, thank goodness, no bleeding or swelling in his brain. We're at the hospital overnight for observation, with another CT scan in morning. If all goes well, we'll be out of here by lunchtime.

And, lord, my freedom from this place can't come quick enough. I've been here for 12 hours now and have pretty much decided that holding us for observation is my personal punishment for leaving him unattended on the bed. ("I swear I won't do it ever, ever again! Can we go home now? Pretty please!?") With the added torture that a hospital is the LAST place you want your five-month-old hanging out. I can practically see the H1N1 and staph germs wafting down the hall. Ugh.

I do remember not to whine too much, however, when I think of friends who have spent a truly unfair amount of time in hospitals with their little ones, battling heart issues and other things I can't bear to think about. Our (hopefully) brief stay here is really just a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. His pediatrician commented that skull fractures from that type of fall are rare and we were just "unlucky" this time. But considering how little damage occurred, as Mr. P said, "We'll just hope this is as unlucky as he gets!"

I've been so impressed with his spirit through all this. Everyone keeps asking me if he's "doing better" but I don't know how to answer that. I can't say he's doing BETTER, because he wasn't ever doing badly in the first place. He's been his usual sunny self, charming everyone he comes in contact with and taking everything in stride (except blood work and IV attempts ... that was traumatic). If we were doing this whole scene with Kiddle? Shudder. I can't go there.

***

One thing I'm grateful for during these extended hours in the ER and PICU: Kiddle doesn't get home from school until 3:00 and I knew I could count on two different neighbors to lend a hand with his after-school hours. Although two wacky coincidences threatened those positives. First, as I was leaving the pediatrician's office, on my way to the ER, my phone rings. It's Kiddle's teacher. Fuck. I answered with sinking feeling in my stomach. I just knew he'd gotten hurt or had a fever and she was calling me to come get him. But, no, he was fine. She just wanted to talk to me about the upcoming Halloween party. Whew!

Then, once we realized Bigga was going to be admitted, I left a message for LK's mom to see if she could meet Kiddle's bus at 3:00. But, a few minutes later, I see Mr. P outside our ER bay talking to someone like he knows them. I pop my head out the door and see LK's parents. And LK ON A STRETCHER. Fuck. It turns out she'd had a really scary respiratory episode — couldn't catch her breath, gasping, lips turning blue — so she was whisked away from the pediatrician's office by ambulance. Terrifying. Last I heard, her flu, RSV, etc. tests had come back negative, so they aren't entirely sure what happened and she's doing ok now. But that was sure the saddest, most forlorn little face I've ever seen on her. Poor thing.

Eventually Mr. P headed home to meet Kiddle and pick up the things I'd need for our overnight stay in the hospital. Kiddle went over to our other neighbor's house for a playdate with Jack and dinner — where he ate MEATLOAF, MASHED POTATOES AND APPLE PIE without question (although he did turn down the carrots). I think I'll send him over there for dinner every night. After getting us settled in for the night, Mr. P went back home to handle the bedtime duties. And you know what? The damn kid NEVER EVEN ASKED ABOUT ME. Hmmpph.

Update: And then he got up in the morning, got ready for school, got on the bus and still NEVER EVEN ASKED ABOUT ME. Where's the love, little man?

***

So here I sit, on my really uncomfortable chair that will turn into my even more uncomfortable fold-out bed, listening to the surprisingly noisy sounds of the Pediatric ICU. I'm so grateful that Bigga is relatively undamaged and handling the situation with ease, but so mad at myself for letting this happen in the first place. And thankful that, rather making me feel bad, almost everyone I've come across has countered with their own story: a friend's nephew with a skull fracture from a misguided game of throwing rocks, a pediatrician's son who rolled off a super-high pillow-top bed, a nurse's daugher who fell down thirteen steps onto a concrete floor. Accidents happen, I know. And I'm sure this won't be the last time we're in the ER. But it's simply the worst when your child bears the brunt of a quick decision you made.

Big sigh. Of relief and regret.

Staph, Blood and Hives, Oh my.

All sorts of medical drama in my extended family this week. My sister has an MRSA infection in her leg. Naturally the pain and swelling reached its peak while she was away on a girls' weekend. Nothing like a small-town emergency room on a Friday night. And Mr. P's two-year-old nephew had to have a rather urgent blood transfusion last night when it was discovered that his red blood cell count was dangerously low. It turns out he has an uncommon form of anemia that will correct itself eventually, but will require close monitoring and possibly more transfusions over the next few months. Very scary stuff, but we're grateful it isn't leukemia or lymphoma. And that we don't have to start referring to my sister as "Auntie Hop" anytime soon.

On a much smaller, less scary scale, I had my first call from the school nurse today. Kiddle has a runny nose, so I was expecting to hear that he had a raging fever. But instead she said, "Do you know he has a rash on his legs?" Er, well, yes I do. But it's not really a rash-rash ... he had hives on Sunday night and still had a couple of slightly red, slightly bumpy areas this morning. No big deal. Unfortunately she seemed to think it might be a big deal, and was concerned it was either ringworm (what?!), or Fifth Disease because his cheeks were so red. I can certainly understand how she might leap to that conclusion, so I had to reassure her that not only does Kiddle the Rosy Cheeked Boy always look like that, but also that we think he had Fifth last year. Fortunately this call was only about half an hour before the end of the day so I didn't have to pack up Bigga and go drag Kiddle out of school early.

Then he got home. And when I took off his pants, this is what I found. ALL OVER his legs and butt.

Um, that's disgusting. And definitely not what he looked like when I sent him off on the bus this morning. Dear School Nurse, I'm sorry for poo-pooing your earlier concern about my son today. Yes, now that I see him, I also think he looks like Patient Zero for a new strain of the plague. My sincere apologies. We're headed to the doctor RIGHT NOW.

But the doctor confirmed what I thought: no ringworm, no Fifth Disease. It really is a form of hives, simply a reaction to the minor snuffly-nose virus he has right now. The only bad thing is we have to push his flu shot off for another week.

Somebody put some pants on that kid! Gross.

Two-Month Checkup

We had Bigga's checkup at the pediatrician today and he's still truckin' along in the weight gain. But he remains longer than he is wide, as I say, so he's good and healthy. But, boy, what a noggin!

Weight: 13 lb 1 oz (63rd percentile)
Length: 25 1/4 inches (95th)
Head: 41.5 cm (greater than 97th!!)

Compared to Kiddle at two months:

Weight: 12 lb 9 oz (52nd percentile — or 60th? did I use fractions or ounces in my notes? argh!)
Height: 23 inches (31st percentile)

Great report from the doctor. He's doing everything he's supposed to do and then some. She pulled him by the arms toward sitting to check his head control and said, "Oh! He thinks he's a three-month old!" I'll tell you, there might have been some disadvantages to (kind of) popping out a nine-pound-plus baby, but right now there just aren't any. I love that he's strong and easy to handle. No delicate flowers around here, no sirree.

Aside from the fact that she's really involved with and knowledgeable about the kids, I'm loving our new pediatrician for another reason ... she automatically vaccinates on an alternate schedule. Such a relief because, while I'm not anti-vaccine, I do worry about how much their new little systems are stressed with so many vaccinations at once. It means more trips to the doctor for us, but that's ok. I'm much more comfortable with this schedule than the regular one we followed with Kiddle.

Out here on my own...

We had Extra Little's two-weeks-and-change check-up at the pediatrician today. I could tell he'd filled out quite a bit over the last week or so, but I wasn't sure just how much weight he'd gained. I was simply hoping he'd gotten back to his birth weight of 9 pounds 4 ounces.

No worries. He's grown half an inch already and weighs 9 pounds 10 ounces. That's a big boy, huh? As my neighbor said, "He just doesn't look like a newborn at all. More like he's at least six weeks old." So true.

And on a side note, we went back to the doctor in the afternoon for Kiddle. I thought (or maybe hoped) he just had really bad allergies and that we needed to try him on a different medication. But, alas, no. He has a ear infection and mostly likely a sinus infection. So much for keeping the ugly germs away from Extra Little.

***

I've tried to be good about letting my body heal. Really, I have. But it's so much different this time because life with a 30 pound three-year-old just doesn't stop.

It was my second day on my own with both kids and it just about did me in: preschool to drop off Kiddle, the doctor for Extra Little's check-up, grocery store to replenish our milk and fruit supply, home to feed XL, preschool to pick up Kiddle, home for lunch, a second trip to the doctor for Kiddle, back home so I could change clothes (don't ask), Target (just as a massive downpour was starting, of course) to fill Kiddle's prescription, home to feed XL again, then over to my neighbor's backyard so Kiddle could jump on the trampoline and play with his friends. My house is a total disaster and I'm just too tired to care.

It's true what they say ... my mom doesn't live here. Too bad I'm the mom now and she's back in Oklahoma. This place was much neater when she was around!

Heartbroken

This morning I heard the devastating news that a friend's three-month-old baby boy died this weekend.

I guess it's not entirely accurate to say that Shana is a friend since we've never met. But after finding her blog in a roundabout way, I've followed along and feel oddly connected to her. You see, as we figured out through a string of emails, not only are we both from Oklahoma City and pregnant at the "advanced maternal age" of 39, we graduated from neighboring high schools the same year and both had a long-term boyfriend from the same group of guys (although at slightly different times so we're not sure if we ever actually crossed paths). The wild wide web is a small little world, isn't it?

Thalon was born at the end of December, destined to be the hapless younger brother of two wildly opinionated older sisters. I checked in on her site this morning and was shocked to see that Thalon was in the hospital and seemingly not expected to make it. I frantically scanned through all the comments of support and prayer, sobbing uncontrollably and trying to glean any info I could on his condition, when I realized he had died. I don't know the details of what happened, although I think I can guess. Whatever happened, it's every parent's worst nightmare. Three months old. Goddamn it.

This is the second friend of mine who's lost a new baby in the last year. The first had serious heart issues, so while the news was devastating, it wasn't totally unexpected. This one was totally out of the blue and, at eight months pregnant, has left me reeling. So many things can go wrong so quickly with these fragile little bodies and souls given to our care. I don't want to be that crazy parent hovering over my child 24 hours a day — and I still won't be, it's just not in my nature — yet that precious life can be snatched from you in a split second. It simply isn't fair.

I've been a basket case all day. And stressing out poor Kiddle as well. While he was eating lunch, I saw Shana's post confirming that Thalon had died and returned to the table with tears streaming down my face. He looked at me and said, "Mama crying? Whas de matter, Mommy?" I said, "Mommy's sad but I'm ok. Don't worry. I'm ok." He climbed up in my lap and stared at me with the saddest little frown on his face and touched my face. Then two fat tears rolled down his cheeks which, of course, made me cry even harder. What a sweet little soul.

As for me, I'd been feeling really odd all day. Just kind of off. My joints felt tight and I could feel my blood pounding in my ears and throughout my body. I couldn't separate what I was feeling physically from my anxiety and upset about Thalon, and since we're keeping an eye out for preeclampsia with this pregnancy, I was worried my blood pressure was spiking — and I knew I was probably making it worse by stressing out over it. I finally gave in and headed up to my doctor's office to get checked out (I know ... that's so unlike me). They were lovely and wonderful as always, and ended up doing the full exam that I was scheduled for on Thursday. It turns out my blood pressure was up a bit, but once I heard it wasn't terrible, I calmed down and it had dropped back down to normal before I left. I'm so glad I went against my basic I'm-sure-it's-fine nature though. I would have really worked myself up into a tizzy and not slept a wink tonight. Now I can worry about Shana, Kiddle and this kid-to-be with a little more peace of mind.

I'm off to make sure Kiddle is still breathing. Please keep Shana and her family in your thoughts.

I plead the fifth.

Kiddle might have fifth disease.

His preschool teacher brought it up today when I picked him up. She became concerned because his cheeks got really red at one point today (major symptom), she heard that a kid in another class has it, and she knows I'm pregnant.

I just don't remember this being around when I was a kid (and neither does my mom), but what do I know? So here's what I learned today:

• Also called "slapped cheek" disease because they get bright red cheeks.
• Can develop a rash on the rest of the body too.
• Usually starts as what seems like a mild cold: runny nose, low-grade fever.
• Only contagious during the "cold" period. When the rash shows up, they're no longer contagious.
• Once you've had it, you're immune to it.

Kiddle had a fresh runny nose start almost two weeks ago. He might have had a slight fever one morning, but I never could get a good thermometer read and one round of Motrin knocked it out, if it was really there at all. He definitely had some serious red cheeks and redness around the mouth starting last Monday, but he always has rosy cheeks so I didn't really think much of it. I just thought they were extra chapped from all the snot he was smearing all over his face. No rash on his body (that I noticed anyway, but that's a whole other bad-mom post). So at this point it's really impossible to tell if he's had it since his symptoms aren't blatant, unless we did blood work ... and I'm not going down that path! For an extra dash of irony, we were at the pediatrician last Monday (the first day of his red cheeks) for other reasons, and apparently it didn't cross her mind either.

But here's the kicker. You DON'T want to get it if you're pregnant. If you transmit it to your baby, especially during the first half of your pregnancy, it can cause serious anemia and be fatal for the baby. Yikes! But, there's about a 50% chance I'm already immune to it and, since I'm at six months, it's less of a worry for the baby. My OB did have me come in today for blood work, just to see what's going on. They can tell if I'm already immune or if I've been recently exposed, so I'll just have to wait for the test to come back.

Oh, the joys of childhood illnesses! I do wish I had a good picture of his neon cheeks last week. You would all be horrified. In hindsight, maybe I should have been too.

Two-Year Checkup

We had Kiddle's two-year checkup with the pediatrician this week. Here's the report:

Weight: 25.0
Height: 34.25
Head: 20.75

Which translates to "grapefruit on a toothpick." What a noggin he has! Poor skinny kid. The only reason he's finally wearing 12-18 month pants is that Gap and Crazy 8 now have them with an adjustable waist (at last!!). So at least he's not walking around in his highwaters anymore.

Unfortunately he might be heading down an allergies/asthma path. (Poor thing was born during the worst allergy season we've had in ages, so I hate to think how much he was exposed to so early on!) The doctor put him on Singulair to see if that helps his cough. We'll give it a try but I'm a bit hesitant because my nephew had some increased aggression side effects when he was on it. Hopefully it will help Kiddle.

The only other concern I have is his speech development. At this point he has about 25 words plus 15-20 animal sounds. However I don't think I'd recognize any of the words if he said them out of context. He also doesn't have any two syllable words except for "gir-ah" for giraffe. (Which, by the way, is the only animal he actually calls by its name and not its sound.) His doctor doesn't seem terribly concerned but she did give the number for EIP so I can get him checked out if I want. I try not to compare him to other kids but unfortunately the two he's around the most have amazing speech capabilities. I know he'll get it together eventually but I'd hate to see it cause him a lot of frustration in the near future.