We have good news and bad news to report on the Pumpkin front, while she is still sick she is on the mend – Thank God! Of course, this does not come without a story…
So, as most of you know, we had the mommys-birthday-ear surgery last week and then woke up with the croup the next day. First, I did not know that “croup” was a real illness. I thought it was just the medical term for “crap” – as in, “she has the croup that’s been going around.” I looked skeptically at the doctor and sort of chuckled when he diagnosed her with croup, but as he went on to explain the steroid treatments and steam baths I realized he wasn’t joking (and he probably thought I was a moron). We spent the weekend doing breathing treatments, sitting in steamy bathrooms, and humidifying the house. Sunday was the last day of the steroid treatment and Aaron and I whispered hopefully about actually getting a full night sleep.
We put Pumpkin down and nestled in for our first restful night in weeks. We were almost giddy with excitement for the sleep that was sure to come. Just two hours into that blissful slumber, we were awakened by the shrill, inconsolable and undeniable sound of the ear infection scream. We took turns holding, rocking, and bouncing her between doses of Tylenol and Motrin. In the wee hours of Monday morning (which just so happened to be our second anniversary), I was incredulous to the fact that this was actually an ear infection. I mean, we had had our fair share of these things and I knew the signs and recognized the cry but there was NO WAY that this was an ear infection. She was just three days post-surgery, having received these fail-proof miraculous tubes that everyone raved about. From the office to the church to the grocery store line, every mother I talked to said that tubes changed their life. So how…why…was it even possible that I was holding my miserable little aching Pumpkin and her infected ears.
First available appointment Monday morning and our worst fears were confirmed – it was, in fact, an ear infection. Luckily Aaron was there to take Pumpkin as I started into a slow, full body shake. I demanded to know how it was even POSSIBLE. Were the tubes not working? Did the surgeon commit malpractice? WTH? The pediatrician assured me that the tubes were doing their job and her ears were draining nicely. Again may I ask, WTH? So, back to the antibiotics we go – both oral and ear drops – and add to that another “round the clock” round of breathing treatments. This was going to be a FUN anniversary.
As could have been predicted, the antibiotics amounted to massive amounts of projectile vomiting, which led to her being unable to stay at the nursery for most of the week. Each morning we tried and it was not until Thursday that I made it without a “come get her” phone call.
On top of all this, I think Pumpkin has outsmarted us and knows my tricks for getting medicine into her little body. It used to be enough to squirt it in her bottle, but now she will go on a hunger strike, refusing any bottle that has been within inches of the antibiotics. Last night my dad commented that we were living a scene from the Lucille Ball Show, as I first tried to force the medicine in her by bottle, then resorted to squirting some of it in a scrambled egg, then oatmeal, then a sippy cup. We had dishes and munchies soaked in antibiotics from one end of the kitchen to the next and at the end of all of it, she still refused to take anything until I offered her a medicine-free bottle. Now to medicate her I have to resort to a full body pin-down and blowing in her face to make her swallow. And let me tell you, that is 23 pounds of pure muscle when you are trying to medicate her. The fact that she is already on to my “mommy tricks” makes me a little nervous.
The best (and in some ways saddest) thing is that through all of this crud (or “croup” if you will) my Pumpkin is the sweetest, happiest, most darling little angel in the world. She tries to play, she tries to smile at you, no matter how bad she is feeling (see photo above taken on one of her "sick days"). The sad part about that is that I think it is due, in part, to the fact that more than half of her life now (since August 15th) has been spent alternating between coughing, sneezing, and screaming and breathing treatments, antibiotics, and vomiting. Luckily for Pumpkin, this mommy has made it her life’s mission to get answers to this and with the new pediatrician on board we are going to figure out what is going on once we get her back in fighting condition.
I must say, though during the past few weeks I’ve had a few crying mommy freak outs and I’m certain that, if it wasn’t already, the nurses at the Children’s Clinic have flagged my file with the “crazy mom” flag (code nutso), we are blessed to have a child has happy and healthy as our Pumpkin. And depending on how you look at it, staying up till 3 AM the night before your birthday and being puked on during your anniversary celebration could have meant we had a wild time.
So, as most of you know, we had the mommys-birthday-ear surgery last week and then woke up with the croup the next day. First, I did not know that “croup” was a real illness. I thought it was just the medical term for “crap” – as in, “she has the croup that’s been going around.” I looked skeptically at the doctor and sort of chuckled when he diagnosed her with croup, but as he went on to explain the steroid treatments and steam baths I realized he wasn’t joking (and he probably thought I was a moron). We spent the weekend doing breathing treatments, sitting in steamy bathrooms, and humidifying the house. Sunday was the last day of the steroid treatment and Aaron and I whispered hopefully about actually getting a full night sleep.
We put Pumpkin down and nestled in for our first restful night in weeks. We were almost giddy with excitement for the sleep that was sure to come. Just two hours into that blissful slumber, we were awakened by the shrill, inconsolable and undeniable sound of the ear infection scream. We took turns holding, rocking, and bouncing her between doses of Tylenol and Motrin. In the wee hours of Monday morning (which just so happened to be our second anniversary), I was incredulous to the fact that this was actually an ear infection. I mean, we had had our fair share of these things and I knew the signs and recognized the cry but there was NO WAY that this was an ear infection. She was just three days post-surgery, having received these fail-proof miraculous tubes that everyone raved about. From the office to the church to the grocery store line, every mother I talked to said that tubes changed their life. So how…why…was it even possible that I was holding my miserable little aching Pumpkin and her infected ears.
First available appointment Monday morning and our worst fears were confirmed – it was, in fact, an ear infection. Luckily Aaron was there to take Pumpkin as I started into a slow, full body shake. I demanded to know how it was even POSSIBLE. Were the tubes not working? Did the surgeon commit malpractice? WTH? The pediatrician assured me that the tubes were doing their job and her ears were draining nicely. Again may I ask, WTH? So, back to the antibiotics we go – both oral and ear drops – and add to that another “round the clock” round of breathing treatments. This was going to be a FUN anniversary.
As could have been predicted, the antibiotics amounted to massive amounts of projectile vomiting, which led to her being unable to stay at the nursery for most of the week. Each morning we tried and it was not until Thursday that I made it without a “come get her” phone call.
On top of all this, I think Pumpkin has outsmarted us and knows my tricks for getting medicine into her little body. It used to be enough to squirt it in her bottle, but now she will go on a hunger strike, refusing any bottle that has been within inches of the antibiotics. Last night my dad commented that we were living a scene from the Lucille Ball Show, as I first tried to force the medicine in her by bottle, then resorted to squirting some of it in a scrambled egg, then oatmeal, then a sippy cup. We had dishes and munchies soaked in antibiotics from one end of the kitchen to the next and at the end of all of it, she still refused to take anything until I offered her a medicine-free bottle. Now to medicate her I have to resort to a full body pin-down and blowing in her face to make her swallow. And let me tell you, that is 23 pounds of pure muscle when you are trying to medicate her. The fact that she is already on to my “mommy tricks” makes me a little nervous.
The best (and in some ways saddest) thing is that through all of this crud (or “croup” if you will) my Pumpkin is the sweetest, happiest, most darling little angel in the world. She tries to play, she tries to smile at you, no matter how bad she is feeling (see photo above taken on one of her "sick days"). The sad part about that is that I think it is due, in part, to the fact that more than half of her life now (since August 15th) has been spent alternating between coughing, sneezing, and screaming and breathing treatments, antibiotics, and vomiting. Luckily for Pumpkin, this mommy has made it her life’s mission to get answers to this and with the new pediatrician on board we are going to figure out what is going on once we get her back in fighting condition.
I must say, though during the past few weeks I’ve had a few crying mommy freak outs and I’m certain that, if it wasn’t already, the nurses at the Children’s Clinic have flagged my file with the “crazy mom” flag (code nutso), we are blessed to have a child has happy and healthy as our Pumpkin. And depending on how you look at it, staying up till 3 AM the night before your birthday and being puked on during your anniversary celebration could have meant we had a wild time.
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