Confessions of a paranoid mother

What is it about sick kids and 3:00 am?? Mine never seems to spike a fever in the middle of the day...only at night, and usually on a Friday. Fortunately, Gracie is usually a VERY healthy kid. When and if she does get sick, it's usually only once or twice a year. It seems like a lot of other kids are sick once a month. Fevers are usually like clockwork for her, come and go within 24 hours. I'd like to credit her strong immunity to dedicated breastfeeding and all that homemade organic baby food I slaved over. She is still a great eater, not picky at all (this is a kid who hates french fries and chooses a side salad instead). But, mostly, I contribute it to luck. Of the luckiest kind.

So, now I pose this question. Are all mothers as paranoid and preoccupied with thoughts of something terrible happening to their children?? I'm almost afraid to admit this publicly, for fear I might be losing my mind. But, these thoughts are pretty vivid and VERY scary.

I'm not just talking about at 3:00 am when I am trying to comfort a feverish child with a cool washcloth. I'm talking about curling up next to her after she's finally fallen asleep and hoping her brain doesn't boil over. Or that her labored breathing means her lungs might be collapsing.

That's just the start of it! Of course, when she was an infant, I imagine it's what all new mother's fear. Watching closely over this little, vulnerable baby - making sure her chest moves up and down as it should, or that the covers haven't slipped over her head, or that there is proper ventilation in the nursery to avoid death by SIDS.

I'm talking about this parental (really, is it just mother's though??) paranoia. The one where I start to have delusions. Serious, detailed, scary visions of her demise or severe injury. We can be in the car, and all of the sudden, I imagine us being broad-sided (for some reason, it's always a big UPS truck), on her side, of course. Does the car seat do it's job? Can EMS workers work quickly enough to cut her out of the car? What if I'm pinned and can't reach her?? Or the haunting thought that while she's at school, some maniac is going to come through with an oozie and shoot up the Kindergarten hall (they have already started "lock down" practice at school, after all). Or she'll choke to death on a grape? Do I remember CPR? Never mind the obsessive thoughts of molesters, kidnappers and creepy old men. Then, after flipping through and catching that Saint Jude Hospital commercial, my mind races around brain tumors, leukemia and some incurable blood disorder. These thoughts scare me enough to put me into a severe anxiety.

How will I ever let this girl get her drivers license?

***

When Gracie was born, within the first 12 hours, one of the nurses noticed she seemed a bit jaundiced. After running the proper tests, we were told that her bilirubin levels were very high, possibly high enough to warrant a blood transfusion!!! Yikes! With careful consideration, the doctors decided to try the less invasive treatment and she would need to be placed under special lights (phototherapy) to help break down the bilirubin levels.

Gracie, day 1 (of 7) of phototherapy. We could only hold her 1-2 hours a day. The nurses tried to convince me to start her on formula, since breast milk can actually slow the breakdown of bilirubin levels, but I refused. I pumped for seven straight days before I could actually put her to the breast full time.




Gracie after she came home. She had to continue to be treated with a "bili-blanket" - The whole setup consists of a light generator, termed the light box, the fibre-optic cable (see picture) through which the light is carried and the light pad, which rests on her belly or back. She lit up like an alien! Luckily, we could also place her in a sunlit window for treatment.



Turns out she and I had what is referred to as an ABO Blood incompatibility . It's pretty rare (15-20% of births). It is different than the Rh factor, which I knew I already had, and was treated for. In the case of the ABO, my blood essentially was attacking her blood as a foreign body as it crossed the placenta and cord during birth.

Ironically, I had wished to wait to cut the cord, after hearing that this was a great way to get more of the precious cord blood into her after birth. But, she aspirated on meconium during delivery and they had to quickly cut the cord. Turns out, had that not have happened, I would have SEVERELY poisoned her with more and more of my blood.

I tell this story because it was a very scary moment. I was considered a high risk pregnancy, due to a family history of defects. My sister, Theresa, who died when she was 9 and I was 3, was hydrocephalic and severely retarded (the not so PC term they used 40 years ago). My mom tells me the story of how they automatically institutionalized Theresa. It took her two visits seeing her baby in a metal cage of a crib before she took her home to try to raise. She scooped her up and ran out of the place, something she's sure she would have been arrested for today. How my mother did what she did for my sister's complicated care, mostly as a single mom, still amazes and humbles me. I had two cousins that died from similar issues. And, there is my incredible niece, Raquel, who is so aptly nicknamed "ROCKY" because she is one hell of a fighter.

My sister, Anna, and Rocky. Rocky has a rare genetic chromosomal defect called Williams Syndrome. It can cause severe medical and developmental problems. It's much more complicated than that, but bless Anna's heart...she was only 19, and had to treat this little baby with feeding tubes and heart monitors for many months. Just like my mother forty years ago, Anna is a true testament to motherhood.
I'm glad to report, that despite the hurdles, Rocky is a fun, affectionate, happy little eight year old girl today!


Gracie and Rocky, last Christmas!





We had one other little scare when Gracie was 3 months old. She quickly became very sick with what turned out to be a virus. This, after a horrific spinal tap to rule out meningitis, and three days in the pediatric unit.

As I reflect on all of this, I feel so silly to create these paranoid delusions of illness and death upon my beautiful daughter. We are truly, truly blessed with a happy, healthy (and sometimes sassy) five year old little girl. I don't know if these paranoid thoughts are normal or not, but maybe they exist in my head to simply remind me of what "could" be. It forces me to reflect, treasure, honor and love Gracie every single moment of the day.

Speaking of Gracie, I think I might just go slip under the covers next to my sweaty, little, puffy-eyed, belly-aching little girl and hold her tight. Right now.

POSTNOTE: After Gracie's fever spiked 104.2, we headed to the doctor and turns out she has a mild case of the flu. UGH.