"When the really terrible things happen, we start begging the god we believe in to bring back the little horrors, and take away this. It seems quaint now, doesn't it? The flood in the kitchen, the poison oak, the fight that leaves you shaking with rage. Would it've helped if we could see what else was coming?" - Meredith on Grey's Anatomy
Trauma is all subjective. I feel that trauma is watching your 2-year old daughter get wrapped up in a straight jacket - screaming, crying, and kicking - while a team of nurses holds her down in an attempt to find a good vein to draw blood from and insert an IV. However, others may not view this as traumatic. Those days when I thought I was having a bad day - an angry coworker, a flat tire, another unexpected bill - were not really bad days. All of those "little" things that happen fail in comparison to all the horrid things that could happen. You know, sometimes I really believe that God puts us in difficult situations, in which we face adversity, to remind us to not sweat the small stuff. That extra $20 for a parking ticket or even that $180 speeding ticket are nothing compared to what stresses you could be facing. And stress, to say the least, is what we faced in this 13th week.
On Saturday, I would have loved a speeding ticket. Even a broken leg or arm. If I had to choose those things over my daughter being so sick that she had to be admitted to the hospital, I would have in an instant. I would have given anything to be that person laying in the hospital bed rather than her. Lidia has what is referred to as Reactive Airway Disorder - which is basically asthma. We have no idea how she contracted this, because it runs nowhere in our families. Doctors seem so perplexed with this when we tell them that there is no medical history. Anyhow, Lidia develops her asthma when she contracts a rough virus. She has had these episodes once a month for the past 4 months. Jason and I feel like seasoned pros in handling her episodes. That's why on Saturday night, when another episode was brewing, we thought for sure we could handle it. We tried her rescue inhaler, we sat with her in the steamy, dark bathroom with the shower blaring, we had Vicks vapo rubbed her feet, chest, and back, we cranked up her humidifier, and we had even plugged in her Vicks Vapo plug-in. But after 10 hours of trying everything, we had given up. Her neck and stomach muscles were working so hard to breathe. She could barely speak a word. Her nostrils were flarring. At this point, she needed saved - and fast.
Jason sped us through stop signs and stoplights and screeched into Cincinnati Children's Emergency Room. Normally, one would expect to wait for at least an hour to be seen - but this was not true on this day. They took one look at Lidia and she was immediately brought back to a room. Her heart rate was speeding at 180 beats per minute (a child her age should have a heart rate of 110 to 120 beast per minute - max), her oxygen level was going from 91 to 89 and dropping, and her respiratory rate was at a dangerous level. After 3 breathing treatments, she showed no signs of improvement. She was being manhandled by 5 different doctors in the ER. At one point, Lidia looked up at me and said, "We need Dr. Pappas." Dr. Papas is Lidia's pediatrician and she adores him. She knew, as well as we did, that Dr. Pappas would have had an answer a lot quicker than these folks. However, we were stuck. Some of the doctors heard wheezing in her lungs, some did not. Through it all, Lidia was screaming and crying. She was finding no comfort in the things that usually gave her comfort - her blankie, mommy's kisses, daddy's warm embrace. After we saw the ER doctors scratching their heads, they decided to get x-rays of her lungs. This was the 3rd time in 4 months Lidia had to get x-rays. She knew what was coming and she was not a fan. As we were about to enter the x-ray room, I notified the technician that I was pregnant and in no time I was left standing alone while the door closed in my face. It was so painful to hear her crying for her mommy. I couldn't help but bow down, put my head in my hands, and cry. Control freak I am - and this was a situation I had no control over. After her x-rays came back, there was again discrepancies in the doctors' opinions. The radiologist saw clean lungs, the doctors saw haziness. While the experts paced the hall, unsure of what exactly was ailing Lidia, Lidia wasn't getting any better. After 4 hours, it was then decided she would be admitted while they determined a diagnosis and a treatment plan.
Jason and I had been in touch with our parents at this point. I was able to call Jason's mom and explain the situation. But for some reason, as soon as I phoned my mom and heard her voice, I couldn't speak. She immediately caught on that something was wrong and I burst into tears. In the background, struggling to even utter a single word, Lidia said, "What's wrong with mama?" My mom was everything I needed her to be for me - strong. I, however, could no longer be strong for Lidia. I had a moment of weakness in front of her and I feel terrible about it, even now. I showed her how scared I was, when what she needed was for me to be stoic and optimistic. Instead of focusing on how lucky we were to be at one of the nation's top children's hospitals, I was pitying us for even being there in the first place. Jason, of course, was Lidia's rock. When he is worried and stressed, no one would know it. However, I do. He won't speak much, he doesn't smile, and he rarely makes eye contact with anyone. Though stressed, Jason was Lidia's hero that day - and mine, too.
Once we got comfortable in our room, Lidia's nurse immediately came and filled the room with smiles and optimism. Lidia, of course, had her fill of doctors and nurses by this point, so she wasn't warming up too quick. The nurse explained that the doctors in charge of Lidia needed to get blood work for labs so they could have more evidence to make a proper diagnosis. It took 3 nurses to hold her down, but they eventually got what they needed. Time went by in the little hospital room. The clock ticked furiously while we waited for something - anything - that would help our baby. Then finally, lab results were ready. The doctor explained that Lidia had an elevated white blood cell count, 21,000, and that they were able to positively identify cells as bacterial. The doctors then were able to diagnose her with bacterial pneumonia. A round of IV fluids and antibiotics were ordered for her. Which again meant that she had to be held down for a IV port to be inserted on the back of her hand.
Us, and the doctors, were confident that Lidia was on her way to getting better. However, after hours had passed, her vitals were still not where they would have liked them to be. Lidia was exhausted and had fallen asleep in my arms. We would be staying the night while they kept a watchful eye on her.
Ah, this blog is getting rather long, isn't it? And it's getting a bit depressing. How about we fast forward to the good stuff. After the second day of Lidia not getting better, one of the doctor's in her pediatrician's office recommended that they try another breathing treatment. They had not tried a breathing treatment since she was first in the ER. What a novel idea! So a respiratory therapist was brought in, the breathing treatment was given, and within minutes, it was smack-in-the-face obvious that our baby was breathing better. She got to meet her new pulmonary specialist doctors, who we will be visiting quite frequently in the next couple of months. Lidia was finally given an inhaled daily steroid to prevent these episodes from happening again. After about 5 more hours of consistent and stable vitals, Lidia was ready to go home.And so were we. We walked out of the hospital, wind blowing in our hair, Jason holding Lidia, and me holding Jason's hand. We were laughing as Lidia was talking up a storm and asking for Dora fruit snacks. We were back - and better than ever.
You know, maybe God gives us these experiences so we can absolutely cherish the small things in life. Breathing fresh air. Sleeping in our own beds. Being healthy. Housing a healthy, growing life. And finding out that our baseballs have shrunk to the size of ping-pong balls. Yes, that's right. We found out this week that Mr. Baseball had defined all odds. He is slowly fading away and for that I thank God profusely. Thank you Lord, thank you Lord. I had a small bit of time to sneak away from the hospital when Lidia was getting better. I had an ultrasound and got to see our precious, beautiful baby. Peanut was in there, cross-legged, sucking his/her thumb. Peanut was moving all around, as usual. The ultrasound technician found my cyst, but I wasn't given the good news until I met with the OB. She gave the official results - the cyst had shrunk from 7 cm down to 2 cm. And she seemed pretty positive that it would keep shrinking.
Give me a person who doesn't believe in Jesus and God and I will recount this day to him/her. Tell me that prayers don't work and I will tell you that 2 of our prayers were answered within hours of one another. Tell me that going to mass and actually living out the virtues doesn't work and I will bring you back to this day. Jesus is real. Prayers work. So start believing, and start praying. And most importantly, start cherishing those small things in life, and stop sweating the small stuff.
Peach Fuzzies
Hi my sweet love. I am so sorry I could not handle my stress these past couple of days. I am hoping that you stayed strong and spent time growing and learning new things. Mommy's doctor reminded me that I need to take better care of myself as the care I take for me makes a direct impact on you. As you know, mommy got to sneak away from the hospital for a couple of hours to see you. Below, you will see the sweet picture that I hold close to my heart. When I got back to the hospital after seeing you, the first thing Lidia asked me was to see baby peanut. She loves you already, sweet baby.
I'm so happy that you have more room to grow down there. And growing you are! Look at you - you are nearly 3 inches in length. As we enter this second trimester, your body is doing amazing things. Can you believe that you are already going peepee in there? A big thing that I have been reading in my books and web sites is that you already have unique, one-of-a-kind fingerprints. Your intestines, which have been housed in your umbilical cord up to this point, are making their way to your abdomen.
Daddy and I are narrowing down the names we have for you. I'm thinking next week we may post the possibilities and have the readers let us know what their favorites are. We can't stop thinking about you, peanut. Keep growing healthy down there and we will do everything on our end to make sure that you get whatever you need. We love you!
Trauma is all subjective. I feel that trauma is watching your 2-year old daughter get wrapped up in a straight jacket - screaming, crying, and kicking - while a team of nurses holds her down in an attempt to find a good vein to draw blood from and insert an IV. However, others may not view this as traumatic. Those days when I thought I was having a bad day - an angry coworker, a flat tire, another unexpected bill - were not really bad days. All of those "little" things that happen fail in comparison to all the horrid things that could happen. You know, sometimes I really believe that God puts us in difficult situations, in which we face adversity, to remind us to not sweat the small stuff. That extra $20 for a parking ticket or even that $180 speeding ticket are nothing compared to what stresses you could be facing. And stress, to say the least, is what we faced in this 13th week.
On Saturday, I would have loved a speeding ticket. Even a broken leg or arm. If I had to choose those things over my daughter being so sick that she had to be admitted to the hospital, I would have in an instant. I would have given anything to be that person laying in the hospital bed rather than her. Lidia has what is referred to as Reactive Airway Disorder - which is basically asthma. We have no idea how she contracted this, because it runs nowhere in our families. Doctors seem so perplexed with this when we tell them that there is no medical history. Anyhow, Lidia develops her asthma when she contracts a rough virus. She has had these episodes once a month for the past 4 months. Jason and I feel like seasoned pros in handling her episodes. That's why on Saturday night, when another episode was brewing, we thought for sure we could handle it. We tried her rescue inhaler, we sat with her in the steamy, dark bathroom with the shower blaring, we had Vicks vapo rubbed her feet, chest, and back, we cranked up her humidifier, and we had even plugged in her Vicks Vapo plug-in. But after 10 hours of trying everything, we had given up. Her neck and stomach muscles were working so hard to breathe. She could barely speak a word. Her nostrils were flarring. At this point, she needed saved - and fast.
Jason sped us through stop signs and stoplights and screeched into Cincinnati Children's Emergency Room. Normally, one would expect to wait for at least an hour to be seen - but this was not true on this day. They took one look at Lidia and she was immediately brought back to a room. Her heart rate was speeding at 180 beats per minute (a child her age should have a heart rate of 110 to 120 beast per minute - max), her oxygen level was going from 91 to 89 and dropping, and her respiratory rate was at a dangerous level. After 3 breathing treatments, she showed no signs of improvement. She was being manhandled by 5 different doctors in the ER. At one point, Lidia looked up at me and said, "We need Dr. Pappas." Dr. Papas is Lidia's pediatrician and she adores him. She knew, as well as we did, that Dr. Pappas would have had an answer a lot quicker than these folks. However, we were stuck. Some of the doctors heard wheezing in her lungs, some did not. Through it all, Lidia was screaming and crying. She was finding no comfort in the things that usually gave her comfort - her blankie, mommy's kisses, daddy's warm embrace. After we saw the ER doctors scratching their heads, they decided to get x-rays of her lungs. This was the 3rd time in 4 months Lidia had to get x-rays. She knew what was coming and she was not a fan. As we were about to enter the x-ray room, I notified the technician that I was pregnant and in no time I was left standing alone while the door closed in my face. It was so painful to hear her crying for her mommy. I couldn't help but bow down, put my head in my hands, and cry. Control freak I am - and this was a situation I had no control over. After her x-rays came back, there was again discrepancies in the doctors' opinions. The radiologist saw clean lungs, the doctors saw haziness. While the experts paced the hall, unsure of what exactly was ailing Lidia, Lidia wasn't getting any better. After 4 hours, it was then decided she would be admitted while they determined a diagnosis and a treatment plan.
Jason and I had been in touch with our parents at this point. I was able to call Jason's mom and explain the situation. But for some reason, as soon as I phoned my mom and heard her voice, I couldn't speak. She immediately caught on that something was wrong and I burst into tears. In the background, struggling to even utter a single word, Lidia said, "What's wrong with mama?" My mom was everything I needed her to be for me - strong. I, however, could no longer be strong for Lidia. I had a moment of weakness in front of her and I feel terrible about it, even now. I showed her how scared I was, when what she needed was for me to be stoic and optimistic. Instead of focusing on how lucky we were to be at one of the nation's top children's hospitals, I was pitying us for even being there in the first place. Jason, of course, was Lidia's rock. When he is worried and stressed, no one would know it. However, I do. He won't speak much, he doesn't smile, and he rarely makes eye contact with anyone. Though stressed, Jason was Lidia's hero that day - and mine, too.
Once we got comfortable in our room, Lidia's nurse immediately came and filled the room with smiles and optimism. Lidia, of course, had her fill of doctors and nurses by this point, so she wasn't warming up too quick. The nurse explained that the doctors in charge of Lidia needed to get blood work for labs so they could have more evidence to make a proper diagnosis. It took 3 nurses to hold her down, but they eventually got what they needed. Time went by in the little hospital room. The clock ticked furiously while we waited for something - anything - that would help our baby. Then finally, lab results were ready. The doctor explained that Lidia had an elevated white blood cell count, 21,000, and that they were able to positively identify cells as bacterial. The doctors then were able to diagnose her with bacterial pneumonia. A round of IV fluids and antibiotics were ordered for her. Which again meant that she had to be held down for a IV port to be inserted on the back of her hand.
Us, and the doctors, were confident that Lidia was on her way to getting better. However, after hours had passed, her vitals were still not where they would have liked them to be. Lidia was exhausted and had fallen asleep in my arms. We would be staying the night while they kept a watchful eye on her.
Ah, this blog is getting rather long, isn't it? And it's getting a bit depressing. How about we fast forward to the good stuff. After the second day of Lidia not getting better, one of the doctor's in her pediatrician's office recommended that they try another breathing treatment. They had not tried a breathing treatment since she was first in the ER. What a novel idea! So a respiratory therapist was brought in, the breathing treatment was given, and within minutes, it was smack-in-the-face obvious that our baby was breathing better. She got to meet her new pulmonary specialist doctors, who we will be visiting quite frequently in the next couple of months. Lidia was finally given an inhaled daily steroid to prevent these episodes from happening again. After about 5 more hours of consistent and stable vitals, Lidia was ready to go home.And so were we. We walked out of the hospital, wind blowing in our hair, Jason holding Lidia, and me holding Jason's hand. We were laughing as Lidia was talking up a storm and asking for Dora fruit snacks. We were back - and better than ever.
You know, maybe God gives us these experiences so we can absolutely cherish the small things in life. Breathing fresh air. Sleeping in our own beds. Being healthy. Housing a healthy, growing life. And finding out that our baseballs have shrunk to the size of ping-pong balls. Yes, that's right. We found out this week that Mr. Baseball had defined all odds. He is slowly fading away and for that I thank God profusely. Thank you Lord, thank you Lord. I had a small bit of time to sneak away from the hospital when Lidia was getting better. I had an ultrasound and got to see our precious, beautiful baby. Peanut was in there, cross-legged, sucking his/her thumb. Peanut was moving all around, as usual. The ultrasound technician found my cyst, but I wasn't given the good news until I met with the OB. She gave the official results - the cyst had shrunk from 7 cm down to 2 cm. And she seemed pretty positive that it would keep shrinking. Give me a person who doesn't believe in Jesus and God and I will recount this day to him/her. Tell me that prayers don't work and I will tell you that 2 of our prayers were answered within hours of one another. Tell me that going to mass and actually living out the virtues doesn't work and I will bring you back to this day. Jesus is real. Prayers work. So start believing, and start praying. And most importantly, start cherishing those small things in life, and stop sweating the small stuff.
Peach Fuzzies
Hi my sweet love. I am so sorry I could not handle my stress these past couple of days. I am hoping that you stayed strong and spent time growing and learning new things. Mommy's doctor reminded me that I need to take better care of myself as the care I take for me makes a direct impact on you. As you know, mommy got to sneak away from the hospital for a couple of hours to see you. Below, you will see the sweet picture that I hold close to my heart. When I got back to the hospital after seeing you, the first thing Lidia asked me was to see baby peanut. She loves you already, sweet baby. 
I'm so happy that you have more room to grow down there. And growing you are! Look at you - you are nearly 3 inches in length. As we enter this second trimester, your body is doing amazing things. Can you believe that you are already going peepee in there? A big thing that I have been reading in my books and web sites is that you already have unique, one-of-a-kind fingerprints. Your intestines, which have been housed in your umbilical cord up to this point, are making their way to your abdomen. Daddy and I are narrowing down the names we have for you. I'm thinking next week we may post the possibilities and have the readers let us know what their favorites are. We can't stop thinking about you, peanut. Keep growing healthy down there and we will do everything on our end to make sure that you get whatever you need. We love you!
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