Thursday, May 23, 2013

Scared Doesn't Begin to Describe It

We had the worst case of the Monday's we have ever had this week. Chandler had been projectile vomiting off and on for about two weeks. We really didn't think anything of it because I've been told that I did the same thing. Carson also did the same thing when she was a baby. On Saturday he vomited 3 times in 24 hours (got our friend Christine once...sorry about that :\). Then Sunday night from midnight to 6am he did it 4 times. I knew that was too much. I also noticed that he felt like he was getting lighter and that I should be seeing some beautiful little fat rolls forming by this point.

Monday morning we went to the doctor first thing. Dr. Springer (love her!) listened to everything I had to say, asked some questions and then asked where dad was. Enter panic mode. I knew nothing good was going to come out of her mouth when she asked where dad was. After telling her he was at school she asked would he be able to come. Wonderful. She got a piece of paper and said she would draw it out for me.

Pyloric stenosis.

The valve that carries food from the stomach to the intestine gets blocked. The valve expands until it eventually closes. Meaning he would literally starve to death. The food has nowhere else to go, hence the projectile vomiting.

Although it's not a major medical condition, when "surgery" came out of her mouth I lost it. I just started to break down crying as Chandler looked up at me just as calm as ever. How was I going to let someone cut him open? After assuring me over and over that it was a simple procedure and she was 98% sure that's what was wrong (ultrasound later confirmed this), it was time to call Vernon. At first he didn't answer because he was in class so I had to send the dreaded "emergency" text. Thankfully, Dr. Springer explained what was going on. There was no way I would be able to do it and have him actually hear what I was saying through my blubbering.

Vernon met me at the house where we packed a bag and headed off to CHKD. Ultrasound confirmed the diagnosis and we were admitted. Chandler was hooked up to an IV and would have to receive fluids in the morning. Once we settled into our room and began to calm down it was  almost as if I forgot about it. By this point we had told our family and friends what was going on. Maybe repeating the story over and over made me somewhat numb to it? That was definitely not the case the next day.

After he got his IV.

Watching the surgical nurse and anesthesiologist roll his hospital crib down the hall to the OR was horrible. Giving kisses and telling him to do good during surgery was indescribable. You can't help but think, what if something goes wrong and this is the last time I say this to him? What if this is the last time I hold him and watch his binky move as he sucks on it? All of the what if's that run through your head are terrifying. You know you shouldn't be thinking such things, but this is the reality of it.

Mindlessly looking through a magazine and talking to my grandma and pops helped the time pass. Undoubtedly, it was the longest hour of my life. The surgeon came out with no expression on his face. Not good. Not bad. When he said everything went OK it felt like I had held my breath the entire hour and I just started breathing again. We had to wait about 20 minutes to see him. In the meantime, a guy in the waiting room with us came by and said congrats. He had seen our yellow emergency check-in stickers on our shirts and heard the good news. That made me think about how lucky we were that it was not a major surgery. About other families who were told it wouldn't be so easy. About other families that wouldn't get the same outcome we did.

Our friends AJ, Sherri, Aaron and Nikki came to see him while we were in the hospital. I'm so glad they came. It definitely made the day go by faster. At this point we were ready to get out of the hospital. Chandler eventually took his two bottles of Pedialyte and moved on to formula. Everything went great and we came home the day after surgery.

After surgery. His "ugh, I just want to go home" face.

The not-so-awesome chair me and Vernon BOTH had to sleep in...sorry it's distorted =\

I don't care if your kid is just having their tonsils taken out...watching people wheel them into surgery is horrible. Knowing that they will be in pain makes you feel like a bad parent. Even though it's the right thing and it has to be done, the guilt is still there.

"Mom, I am SO over this."

So far Chandler is doing just fine. The 24 hours after anesthesia were the scariest part for me. Kids (especially babies) can have such crazy reactions to it. When we got past that point I felt so much better. We came home, settled in and he pooped...twice. Never been so happy to see baby poop. Even if it was everywhere.