I used to be a little more relaxed, a little more laid back(Dave is surely choking on that sentence), before our sweet Ashley Kate was born. Now, not so much. The littlest changes in her condition make me crazy. Things like feeling her skin each time I check on her just to be sure there is no temp. Listening to her breathe as she sleeps. Counting her respirations. Taking her pulse. Just giving her the once over, checking all vitals each and every time I approach her crib. She's used to it. She usually sleeps right through my check ups. Every once in a while she will swing her arm at me or grunt and shake her head no in protest. Tonight I laid her down around 8:00. By 9:00 I was in checking on her. When I felt her head and neck the paranoia began. I thought she felt too warm. So, take her temperature is what you are thinking, right? Me too, except for the fact that I left her thermometer at the clinic on Thursday and no one has seen it since. So, I try to reason with myself. Its probably nothing. She's probably fine, but we have both had a tough day with our colds that won't go away. Paranoia. Its here. I need a blood culture. What? How many mom's out there automatically come to that conclusion based on the warmth of there baby's skin? Let me defend myself. She has a central line. She has been sick for a week with a nasty cold. We are literally 2 days away from moving back home. I NEED to know if something is brewing. So, I reluctantly call the coordinator. "Whats her temp?" Well, I don't know because I left.....yada, yada, yada. "OK, let me call the treatment center and see if you can borrow a thermometer." She calls back, "No way they said. You have to bring her down there and then if she has a temp they will call the resident and they will decide what to do." Paranoia, here we go. I am almost in tears because I know that if we have a temp and if a resident is called then we are being admitted tonight. So I wake up my sleeping baby who is ready to go "Bye, Bye" immediately because she has been locked up in this room for days. Its a party in our p.j.s she is thinking. Clapping and waving "bye, bye" to each and every door we pass in the hallways. She is cracking me up with her stuffy nose, rosy cheeks and sleepy eyes. Then we enter the treatment center and the smiles fade and the crying begins. The look of betrayal comes across that sweet face and her eyes are accusing me of awful things. You would have thought the thermometer was a giant needle by the reaction she gave to it being placed under her arm. Blood pressure? Off the charts from her screaming. Finally the thermometer beeps. 98.5. She is fine. Can you spell the word paranoid? I feel ridiculous as I listen to her as she struggles to go back to sleep. Hopefully she will forgive me some day for all of this nonsense I put her through. No need for blood cultures. At least not today. I'm still waiting on the coordinator to call me back so I can ask her forgiveness for interrupting her evening. I used to be so laid back, right Dave?
Two more days. I'm really struggling. We feel lousy and knowing we are so close to leaving, but still awaiting a final decisions is making me crazy. Neither one of us seem to be getting better. We can't breathe and our cough is nasty sounding. I hope we are getting over it, and I hope we are on our way home. I would like to think that my paranoia will cease once we get back home, but in reality it will probably only become worse. Hope you are all resting peacefully and breathing easily as you lay you heads down tonight. Goodnight and God bless. Trish