The Bad Day

I woke up early yesterday morning, about three-ish. The sheets were stained with pools of pink. In the bathroom, something very gross and scary happened. James called the doctor. He said to wait and see what else happened, if anything; it might be something normal that no one warned me about, but if it continued, it might be something bad.

So I fed the baby, and I waited. A couple hours later, it happened again and I was still bleeding. It happened once more, and we called the on-call doctor back to see what he recommended, as we were unsure whether to wait and call my regular midwife or go to the ER, since the office wasn’t going to open for another hour still. He told me to go see someone, but that the midwife and the ER would probably have equal wait times, and in fact, the former might even be faster. So we got the baby fed again, and went into the office when it opened.

Let me tell you, that was the longest car ride ever. Longer than the one when I was in labor. Longer than a trip to Florida or to Milwaukee. I was nervous, crying. And I knew we’d have to wait awhile to see someone at the clinic, just because we had no appointment.

Luckily, I got to see one of my favorite midwives. She took very good care of me, and let me know that while it was a very scary thing to have happen, it does sometimes happen. She gently examined me and fixed me up, encouraged me to continue with the expensive iron supplements, prenatal vitamins and ibuprofen. She said that it wasn’t serious, but it was good I came in, and I was relieved.

When we got back home, James called the pediatrician because our boy hadn’t pooped over the weekend. They scheduled us to come in about an hour later to get him checked out. His jaundice was very obvious to the pediatrician, who ordered him a bilirubin test to make sure that he was still within an acceptable range. She also told us to get some suppositories that would help him move his tiny little plugged up bowels.

We headed over to the lab to get the blood test. We hadn’t eaten in awhile. I was still nervous. And leftover scared from my morning. Exhausted. Pale. When Michael started to cry as we waited to get his heel pricked, so did I. Again. But I held onto him, calmed him down so well that he fell into a sleep so deep that when he had his blood taken, he didn’t even flinch, much less wake up or scream. I had to be thankful for that little thing.

I was wiped out by the time we got home, but I needed to eat, and I needed to sleep and Michael needed to eat again, too. Somehow we managed to get it all done, and after I slept and finally showered, I was better, calmer, saner.

We have to take him back to the doctor tomorrow to get weighed again and see if he’s less yellow now that he’s pooped some. And I’m kind of annoyed about that, even though it’s what he needs. Because I’ve been fixated on money. I shouldn’t be, I know, but when they tell me that I need to come back and come back again all I see is another $20, and another and another. Those co-pays add up fast and freak me out. Or maybe I’m transferring my fears about my child’s health onto our bank account just to keep myself from complete and total meltdown. Because at least I can control the bank account.

Anyway, today is a much better day. Michael slept for a few longer stretches last night. And I need to remember that it’s still been less than a week that he’s been in our lives, though it seems like he’s been around a lot longer already. I need to remember that things take time to learn. Especially these parenthood things. That interruptions to the routine will probably be more common than the routine itself. That all I can do is my best and it will be good enough. It is good enough.

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