Baby bugs, skittles, and my wet jeans

Well, we had our first trip to Emerg with a sick baby last night. I think it's kind of like a right of passage for new parents; it's like introducing solids, seeing your baby smile or changing your first smelly diaper.

It came totally out of nowhere - Maria called me yesterday afternoon to say that Mela felt a little warm and seemed a bit out of sorts but it didn't seem like she was sick at that point. By the time I got home, though, she was hot to the touch and had a temperature (100.9 F).

The thing that really concerned me (because the books had told me so) was that Mela wasn't acting like herself. She was just lying weakly in my arms and couldn't even sit up. When we got home, I gave her a bottle and we laid on the couch together. It was so sad; she could only muster the strength to make a few weak grabs at the pear I was eating. I think that if she'd been in a room full of laptops, she wouldn't even have cared.

So by the time Chris got home from work, I was getting a bit worried and we called TeleHealth. See, TeleHealth is a great idea in theory (can call and talk to a registered nurse, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week) but the whole thing sucks in practice. We waited on hold for 47 minutes and by the time we actually got to talk to someone (which really only even happened once we told the receptionist that we were calling because of a feverish baby and she bumped us up), Mela's cheeks were burning, she was refusing liquids and her temp was 102.7.

The nurse asked a million, we-have-to-cover-our-butt questions. The thing that seemed most concerning was Mela's breathing: it was labored (I could hear it and see her little chest moving up and down) and when I counted the number of breaths per 15 seconds, the nurse said it was "very high for a baby her age." So they said that we should go immediately to the emergency room of our local hospital.

Now, I've been to Emerg before. I know the pain of waiting for hours in Emerg. And I'm not a nervous Nelly who rushes her kid to the hospital every time they cough - I know that babies have fevers and that there's usually nothing you can really do. So I asked if we could go instead to the local after-hours children's clinic instead and the nurse said, "We're recommending that you go somewhere that they have diagnostic equipment and the capacity to assist her breathing if necessary." Which really, I don't think you should ever say to a mom, who then immediately pictures her baby strapped to a hospital gurney and hooked up to a respirator.

So I burst into tears and then Chris and I ran around and grabbed our stuff and headed out the door (just as the timer rang in the kitchen to say that our dinner was ready - boo). All the way to the hospital, Chris was quiet, Mela was quiet and I wouldn't shut up. How many times do you brightly chirp, "You know, I'm not worried at all!" before you realize that maybe it's a sign you actually are quite worried?

In the triage, the nurse on duty gave us a healthy dose of judgment for our parenting ("what do you mean, you don't give her juice?") and for following TeleHealth's advice ("yeah, they send EVERYBODY in here"). She also gave us a nice little ball of false hope re: the wait time ("there's only one child ahead of you and we have four beds for children, so it shouldn't take long").

The good news is that we only had to wait in the tiny, cramped pediatric waiting room for about 1/2 an hour, with a burning baby laying limply in my arms, whimpering occasionally. The bad news is that we then had to wait in the equally tiny hospital room for almost three hours, with no apparent activity or progress (I swear, we didn't see anyone who looked like a doctor the entire time). The only health professional we saw was an RN who rushed in the room, gave her some liquid Tylenol and then made us feel bad ("First time parents? Yeah, you can tell."). During this time, we existed on nothing but bottled water, Skittles and a snack bag of pretzels. We could've had sandwiches of "sweet veal" or "peameal and cheese" from the vending machine but both deeply troubled me.

I kept trying to look on the bright side, which was that it would've been worse if I was 8 or 9 months pregnant, since we had to hold Mela constantly and after the first hour, my back was numb. Or we could have a newborn baby to deal with, too. And the little room gave us a bit of privacy, which was nice when Mela suddenly vomited 3 gallons of formula and pear bits all over my sweater and jeans. There's nothing like waiting in a hospital, with a sick baby, starving to death, and being soaked to the bone with sticky puke. We smelled great.

Of course, by the time doctor finally came, the Tylenol had done its work, the fever was down and Mela was chatting happily with her dolly. By the way, if you're ever in that situation, puking moved us up the line, apparently - I wish she'd done it earlier! The doc said stuff we already knew (e.g. probably just viral, feed her lots of liquids, etc) and we were finally free.

We got home around 1 a.m., gave the little puker a bath and a bottle and put her to bed. We were so tired, we couldn't even sing "Wheels on the Bus" to her when we were drying her off ... I just kept trailing off mid-verse into silence while she cried. We slowly ate our chewy chicken fingers and went to bed ourselves.

She slept all night (I learned from the last time that she really does sleep best in her own bed) and while she's still a bit out of sorts today, the fever is gone and she even ate a bit of food (and gave me some spunky sass when I told her she couldn't touch something!).

I don't really feel like we learned anything from this experience ... I already knew that you DO NOT go to Emerg unless you're guaranteed to jump the line (e.g. if you have a limb spurting blood) but once Telehealth said that she was in danger, we really had no choice. Maybe the message here is never call Telehealth, just go to the (fast) kids clinic if you're worried. And always pack tasty food. And a change of clothes. .

Glad that she seems so much better today. No idea where she picked up the bug.

Side note: There are few things in life as depressing for a mother as having a nurse ask you a question about your child (e.g. "how many wet diapers did she have today?") and having to answer, "I don't know, I'd have to ask the nanny."