I’ve been going back and forth and trying to decide if I should talk about what’s been goin’ on (with apologies, of course, to Marvin Gaye) and I’ve decided that tentatively yes, I will do so. Between the precipitous drop in postpartum hormones that always leaves me sputtery, spineless and weak and the Very Real Fear that something is wrong with my newest daughter, I’m kind of a mess.

Okay, fine, you’re right Internet, just like you always are. I’m really a HUGE mess right now.

By trade, I’m not A Worried ™. I tend to be more cautious and careful while I’m gestating a crotch parasite, but after they pop out and are alive for about 6 or so months, I tend to stop worrying. I’d only invest in one of those video baby monitors to perform hilarious Stupid Human Tricks on it while Dave is on an Important Work Call and while I see the need for a bedside apnea monitor in many situations, having the damn thing in my house would freak me out and my thinking would get all skewed and I’d convince myself that because I had it, my baby would stop breathing.

See: not rational. So I ignore it.

I worry when I need to, like when Ben is dealing with a bully or a super-crazy-liberal private school, or Alex comes into the room holding an empty pill bottle and not usually other than that. It’s probably one of my better features, along with my shiny hair and impeccable powers of observation.

I fully expected to be worried from the start of labor until I pushed Amelia out, you see, because while she was cooking, I couldn’t SEE her. Once I could see her chubby face I knew I’d relax and begin to prepare myself for the inevitable poo I would have to take before I left the hospital to come home to Casa de la Sausage.

But it didn’t happen that way at all. Suddenly, the room was swarmed with neonatologists and specialists while I hung 34 feet in the air, crotch on display for all to see and I wept. I sobbed, I wept and I shook. Had The Lump been on her arm or leg or somewhere other than the back of her head, I’d have apologized to her for the plastic surgery she would invariably require, promise her a boob job–or a nose job–as a booby (get it!?!) prize and move the hell on with my day.

Over the following 12 or so hours, despite being filled with The Panic AND The Hormones, I managed to convince myself that it all was okay. That the cyst was full of fat or goo or hair or gold something.

Then the dreaded phone call post CAT scan prompted a flurry of people coming into my room and forcibly removing the baby from my boob. Which may or may not have happened quite like that, but you get the picture. From out of nowhere.

The NICU time wasn’t nearly as brutal as it could have been and I thank God for that each and every minute I breathe, but it served to remind me of just how not in control we are. I’d prophetically made a comment about that a couple of days before Amelia was born–how parenthood strips us of our control–and it rang true once again. Despite all of the ultrasounds and folic acid and all that shit, these things just…happen.

The neurologist, while seeing something unfavorable on the CT scan and thereby ordering an MRI without so much as seeing my daughter, has let us know remarkably little, save for the fact that he doesn’t accept our insurance. We have an appointment on Friday to talk about the MRI results–which he claims are not dangerous or urgent or anything else. But the whole time we were there, he appeared to be in surgery for patients with Real Problems.

Which reassures me more than it might someone else. As does the fact that she seems to have no visible neurological issues and manages to both eat, shit, and scream up a storm. Being home with her is awesome but waiting and seeing what the hell is going to be the next steps is sort of like torture. But I don’t exactly feel comfortable pulling the doctor–apparently an amazing MD–out of Real Brain surgery to hold my hand. Dave spoke with him while I was in a drug-induced coma and seemed to be reassured.

I’m aware that whatever is going on with her is not currently life-threatening, and while that does bring me some peace, not knowing exactly what is going on or what will be going on is slowly driving me bonkers. I’m hoping like crazy that I’ll look back on this and while I doubt I’ll laugh, be able to say, “Wow, Becky” *bitch-smacks self* “You have a degree in Freaking The Fuck Out!” Because that would beat the fcuk out of the alternative which is that something is really and truly wrong with my sweet and feisty daughter. Something I’m pretty sure I’d never recover from.

So now I sit here in Hermit Mode waiting for Friday and unable to do much besides care for my kids and my overactive boobies while avoiding talking on the phone or to anyone besides Daver lest I break down completely, unable to pull myself back out of the fit. Sleeping is not going so well–me, not her–as I seem to flip out and imagine Worst Case Scenarios, up to and including Daver getting arrested for human trafficking–and the fact that I’m not an emotional eater means that I’m literally forcing myself to eat fatty food.

If my dieting self could see me now…

*sighs*

Hold me, Internet? Don’t mind the spit-up on my shoulder–it’s dried. And ignore the boogers, Alex sneezed on me but I wiped it up as best as I could. Oh, and that smell? Probably more spit-up. Don’t worry, it’s not catching.

Oh, and BONUS!! for listening to me whine. Here’s Amelia!

Comments

comments

93 thoughts on “Aunt Becky Meets The Fear Of God

  1. Honey- you, of all people, KNOW that if this was life-threatening, they would not have let you come home with that beautiful baby and surgery would have already been done.
    But having said that, I completely understand.
    Our medical system is whacked in that they do not take into consideration the fact that you are completely beside yourself with worry and that a fifteen minute consultation would clear things up and let you rest with a peaceful mind.
    I’m sorry. But that’s the way it is.
    But try very hard to keep in mind that if what Amelia was facing was something gravely dangerous, she’d still be in the hospital.
    We’re holding your hand. We are.

  2. I am dropping off a great big hug, because even though I think I’m about fifteen miles away from you in real life, right now I’m only an Internet buddy and That’s Just What We Do.

    You and Amelia will be in my thoughts.

  3. Breathe. Big breath in filling your stomach and gently your lungs. Hold for just a moment. A moment. Then slowly, gently release it- slowly. Repeat 5 times.

    You have to let go. It’s okay to be overwhelmed. It’s okay.

    You’re right. We don’t have any control over our lives. But we learn to live with it. We can even exist within the catastrophic. But you have to breathe girl. And cry and maybe sing and scream at the same time. You’re going to be okay. We’re totally here for you 🙂

  4. Virtual hugs coming at you – I ain’t touching any more baby puke from any baby that isn’t related to me.
    You should be sleeping, not writing, when Amelia is sleeping!
    What are you doing blogging instead of sleeping?

  5. She’s perfect. Just perfect. There can be nothing wrong with someone so perfect. Relax. (Ooops, is “relax” the wrong thing to say?) Do you want to bite the heads off people who say that? 🙂

  6. Ms. Moon is spot on: if it *were* serious, you wouldn’t be waiting until Friday. Small consolation, I know, but consolation all the same. Now, how do we best distract you? 🙂

    *hugs ‘n hand holding*

  7. First, let me say that Amelia is so adorable!!

    As far as worrying goes, you’re a mom, and when you hear something might be wrong with your child, the worry comes no matter what, especially when you have just given birth, and the hormones are a raging. I am sure once you get to talk to the doctor again, some of that worry will subside. If it was something major, it would have already been taken care of in the hospital. Plus, from what you have said, it sounds like Amelia is acting like a normal, healthy newborn. My first needed surgery at 1 month old, and it was very scary, but she did amazingly well. I think the worry was the worst part, because you don’t know what to expect. I think it sounds like you guys are holding up as well as you possibly can in a situation like this, and I am sure this will be just fine in the long run. Just make sure to take care of yourself too. I will continue to pray for all of you.

  8. I totally understand why you are worried, although I hope and pray that it’s all for nothing. I hope you can give your brain a rest and try to just enjoy her, at least until you have a reason not to, which hopefully won’t happen. I used the word “hope” too many times here, LOL, but that’s what I have for her. She’s beautiful.

  9. {{hugs}} I totally understand the freaking out. How can you not freak out about it? It’s a freaky thing. But like you’ve said, it’s good news that they let you all leave & that they are not urgently needing to see you today.

    I say call up your insurance company & see what you need to do to get any reimbursement from them for the neurosugeon. In my wide experience of freaking out and with insurance companies, the insurance company will be able to distract you from the freaking out by irritating the hell out of you.

  10. First: I don’t like babies, even a little. I wasn’t very fond of my own until they were about 9 months old. YOUR little girl just melts my heart! That is saying something!

    Second: You are a mom. You whine, complain, worry and carry on all you want. You know what is going on and you have all the rational words, but that doesn’t do a damn thing for your heart. So break down, scream, avoid the phone like the bubonic plague, and just love that baby. Yes, the doctor is doing “real brain surgery” whatever that means, but this is your baby, and every detail about her is the most important thing in the world right now. So don’t worry about making the docs crazy, that is what mommies do and that is why they have secretaries and nurses ad all the other support staff to filter you through if they want to avoid you. If you are paying, and he doesn’t take your insurance, then he is on your dime. Bother away, Becky! You get your services rendered for fees you will be paying… through your teeth I am sure.

    and I liked the booby prize. figures you would still have a great humor in any situation.

  11. She is total sweetness. 🙂
    I’m truly sorry that you are going through this. I honestly cannot even imagine but I am with you – the fact that the neurosurgeon isn’t anxious to speak with you seems like a good thing. Still, it sucks. I’m thinking of you and I am here (just email!) if you ever need to talk/vent outside The Blog or The Daver. Love you! xoxo

  12. The lack of control, I think, was what I probably had the hardest time with when I had my first and all that entailed. Hard doesn’t begin to cover it. You can have u/s’s out the nose, close monitoring, whatever and the shit can still hit the fan without even having a clue it’s coming. It sucks.

    I think that perfect beautiful girl is going to be just fine; you just hang in there in the meantime, okay?

    (((((((Becky)))))))

  13. She’s gorgeous! Absoulutely gorgeous!

    As for being a mess, well, you are allowed any parent would be! Hell, she’s not mine and I’m a mess along with you!

    Keeping you in my thoughts!

    Big hugs!

  14. She’s gorgeous! Absoulutely gorgeous!

    As for being a mess, well, you are allowed any parent would be! Hell, she’s not mine and I’m a mess along with you!

    Big hugs!

  15. quietgirl has me in tears! As does you post and of course Amelia sleeping! It’s hard and it sucks and it is YOUR BABY GIRL but like a few others said, she’s home with YOU. She isn’t in the NICU anymore and that, my dear, COUNTS FOR SOMETHING! We got you, we’ve got your hand, sit with us, cry with us, we don’t mind the spit up. I’m thinking of you, sweetie!
    ((((HUGS))))

  16. Oh, Becks. So, so sorry. Listen, I know where you’re coming from – Sadie had an OT casually mention to me that she thought Sadie had low tone on one side and that it might be nothing but could be CP and I should follow up with my pediatrician, right before Christmas. Which caused me to hyperventilate, stress, and generally freak out for a few weeks. And it didn’t matter what ANYONE said to try to convince me.

    And ultimately, she’s fine. And my worrying did nothing beneficial. But I couldn’t stop it. It’s okay to freak out – it’s only natural. I think it would be weird if you didn’t worry. You’re okay.

    And another thing – DAMN lady, you make pretty babies.

  17. she’s beautiful. and I imagine doing and acting exactly as we all would in this situation…so please don’t question your self at all. Maybe give yourself a little pump and dump though! 🙂

  18. Ditto what everyone else said you are just being a normal mother of a newborn freaking out until you know different. We the Internets are here to listen if you need us spit up and all. Prayers and lighting a candle for precious Amelia and I agree damn you make purty babies…LOL Hang in there girl we are all thinking of you and thanks for updating us on some of the goings on. Take care of you and be well.

  19. Aww sugar…I’m sorry. I’m hugging you in my head, honest…

    Amelia sounds brilliant and looks darling – and she’ll be fine. You’ll worry, because you’re a mum…and she’ll be fine. Think this is scary? Wait until she’s sixteen and wants to date the guy with a safety-pin through his nose. Oy!

    Shade and Sweetwater,
    K

  20. Hang in there Becky! (Can you take xanax while nursing, probably not right?)

    What if her neurologist looks like McDreamy? 🙂 Just trying to take your mind away for one second!

  21. She’s beautiful Aunt Becky. More beautiful than I ever imagined.
    Just try to be assured that the doctor knows of what he speaks and if Daver feels some comfort with that fact, then hopefully that can somehow reassure you as well.
    We are all thinking about you all and keeping you in our thoughts.

  22. Ahhhh!!! Okay, I guess that wasn’t very reassuring. How about, we’ll be praying for you?

    I will now commence to freak out about worst-case-scenarios for my own pregnancy again.

  23. Thanks for the baby-cheek fix! Hang in there – she’s going to be fine! We’re right here with you, holding your hand, wiping up boogers and spit. Lots of prayers and big hugs coming your way.

  24. Awww sweetie, I am so sorry that you are having to deal with any of this….

    I am sure things are fine, because a baby that beautiful couldn’t have anything wrong with her!!!

    Hugs,
    Rebel

  25. Your beautiful daughter has a minor complication. She’ll be fine. If these weren’t true, she’d still be in the hospital with a bunch of pompous dickheads (aka doctors) peering and poking at her. However, I would have dragged the neurosurgeon away from his Very Important Surgeries to talk to you for 10 minutes and tell you what’s going on. So here’s the plan for future reference…Get someone in your family to become or marry a doctor. That way, you can get better service. Meanwhile, I’ll be saying some prayers for you and your girl, because this is supposed to be a joyous time, not a fear-filled nightmare. But try to get some sleep – you need it, so you can follow what the neurosurgeon says.

  26. Becky,
    That fear can be paralyzing, don’t let it over take you and prevent you from enjoying you new baby. My heart aches for you as I know your fear. You will get through this. You know Rissa’s surgeon has a Nurse Practitioner who always answers my phone calls and facilitates information. Have you checked into seeing if their practice has one? They can be great patient advocates. Amelia is just beautiful and I just want to nom nom nom on those chubby baby cheeks. I will keep Amelia and you in my thoughts and prayers.

  27. Is it Friday yet? No. Damn. I think there isn’t anything we internets can say to make it all better. I have a 6 year old baby; I know worry. It isn’t pretty, it isn’t fun, but with any luck, it doesn’t last long. [[[hug]]]

  28. I know I’m probably the last person you want advice from, but here goes: I’m not saying this because I’m a pollyanna and know everything will be hunky dorey, nor am I saying this because I’m quaking in my shoes. I’m just saying it. Just be a mom. Just hold her, and be a mom. Sometimes that means you’ll be freaking and hyperventilating and crying, and other times it will mean you’re calm and soaking in her beauty and feeling hopeful. And it’s all good, and it’s all what you need to be doing and concentrating on right now. Let Mr. Brain Surgery Man do his job, and you do yours.

    Hang tight. I’m hanging with you.

  29. o.m.g she is adorable..I wanna squeeze her…and smell her head…

    Look, I think that it is completely normal to have the reaction you are having..
    I know I’d be freaked out..

    Just know this..she is acting perfectly normal..crying, pooping, spitting up and sleeping (some) and THAT my dear Aunt Becky speaks volumes as to her long term health…
    ((hugs))

  30. She is beautiful.

    While I do hope that all the worry proves to be for naught, I think Freaking the Fuck Out is well within the appropriate range of reactions when your baby daughter needs a CT scan and an MRI. Again, hopefully just to be “on the safe side,” (though it’d be nice if they could let you know that), but all the same.

    I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. I’m glad she’s doing well (eating, pooping, sleeping), medical interventions aside. I hope you get answers soon and hope much moreso that they are good ones.

  31. I so hear you, when we have a child that has a problem, but one that is typically not life threatening, it puts us in a tailspin, even though the other side of our brain is screaming at us “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WORSE THINGS COULD BE” trust me I feel you!

    My story briefly (ha), my daughter was born “perfect” however the first day I noticed she acted funny after eating (I bottle fed) the nurse thought I was over feeding her, but I had my doubts……she seemed to briefly choke it up and then reswallow it, by the time you call the nurse and he or she arrived, baby was cooing and smiling perfectly….until night number two, she is sceaming and no amount of anything is helping, nurse wants to take your baby to the nursery because you are disturbing others, and I let her go, thinking they are the experts, they have the baby swings set up in there, she will be happy…except later they tell me she screamed for 2 hours!!! Still they say its colic and send me home…. 3 weeks old she appears to not be able to breathe, choking on something that i cannot see……we race the 1 mile to the childrens hospital clinic…they yell at me what happened to this child, turns out she had SILENT acid reflux, so while it was coming up like normal GERD symptoms it never came out, she just choked on it and re-swallowed the crap…her poor esphogus got burned on the way up and the way down!!! but the choking was terrifying! they handed me a large bulb syringe and said ‘dont leave home without it’ and sent me on my way……..(she was put on meds but that just helps with the acid burn not the frequency of it coming up)…. I couldnt lay my baby flat to change her diaper and I was terrified that she would choke while we slept and we would never be there with that damn bulb syringe……… it kept me terrified endlessly, and yet i knew that most likely things were going to be fine!! The icing on the panic cake was when she developed a hemangioma (on her LOWER FOREHEAD) and they told me it could grow and it would be unpredictable, it could get huge, it could stay small, it could ulcerate, or it might not…….and I pictured kids picking on her…..and I didnt know what to do with myself…….here i was hormonal, scared and sad all at the same time.

    Anyway I am sorry to write a book on your blog, but new babies are just scary as shit……..

  32. I’m the type that sees a lump on my kid’s neck and immediately thinks tumor instead of swollen gland, so freaking out is what I do best. I think that if it was something really serious that they would have kept her in the hospital. The way that the doctors are acting seems reassuring, too.

    That being said, didn’t I read something about a bottle of valium?

  33. You’re a parent, sweetie. That’s what we’d all be doing if we were looking down at the face of that beautiful baby girl and knowing we had a doctor’s appointment in a few days. It’s understandable, and it’s certainly justifiable. I would definitely take this apparent lack of overt concern from the MDs as a very, very good sign, as well as Amelia’s clearly normal baby behavior.

    Also, finally, and everything else, Amelia is gorgeous and beautifully smooshy cheeked. Where can I get me one of those?! 🙂

  34. Let it out, you’re allowed, you’re even encouraged. We love our Aunt Becky, and our cousin Amelia. Hug all of your kiddos and the Daver, and let them take care of you, babe. Hugs, kisses, hand squeezes and smiles.

  35. Oh, Aunt Becky,
    you know that we all here will whine, bitch and fret with you, and be your shoulder to lean on..
    but that baby girl of yours..wow..precious angel, will BE ALRIGHT.

    breathe…

  36. Dude. I paged my midwife because I was worried that my babe had the hiccups so much. THE HICCUPS. Please don’t worry about bothering docs. You need to know and they should tell you. I hate that you have to wait until Friday, but I am spending the time until then praying that everything is fine and this is totally minor.
    We adore you and there are so many of us thinking about you and Amelia right now, let us bear you up while this is going on. Don’t worry about avoiding the phone or anything else, do what you need to do to make it through.

  37. I agree that should it have been lifethreatning they would have never have let you go home. Insurance hate not withstanding. Try not to hit him with any of the flying boogers on Friday when you do finally set eyes on said neonatologist as I don’t think that will go over too well;)

    She is absolutly beautiful..I’m tearing as I see her pic. If only I didn’t live in cyber world or a frozen wasteland of Canada:) Makes me want another one…don’t tell Neil. I’m praying for her fatty little cyst that all goes well with the MRI and she gets her boob job at the lovely age of 16 and is all perky for her prom.

  38. Tash has it right. As much as you can just focus on being her mom and loving her right now. While I am a card carrying member of the “let’s worry about every possible shitty outcome and worst case scenario” club, I have found that it just plain sucks ass to worry about the crap you have no control over and then to top it off, you end up missing the good stuff too.
    I know the stress of waiting for docs to tell you your baby is going to be ok and the god awful feeling of having no control over the outcome all too well. I have to agree with the peanut gallery, no way would they have let her go if it was really serious shit. But you know what, if the stress is too much, call the effing doc and have him give you a cliff notes version. You’re entitiled to that and no way, as a peds neuro, he isn’t all too familiar with worried parents.
    I’ll be sitting here with you, as ever.
    xxoo

  39. Dear god, Becky, how could you NOT be worried?! I think I’d be worried about you if you weren’t freaking the fuck out right now! Even though it does seem fine and the neuro doesn’t seem all that concerned, I don’t think you are acting crazy at all. Just a normal loving mom.
    Amelia is sooo adorable. SO adorable.

  40. Oh honey. It’ll all be okay. They would indeed have been more serious, or scheduled you for a consult asap if it were bad news like you worry it is. It will be alright. This is a very anxious time, it will get better.

  41. You would not be normal if you were rational and calm right now, and the one thing I’ve learnt while reading this here blog is that you’re no where close to normal – so don’t stress – you’re acting just the way you should.

    She truly is a gem Becky! You’re one lucky lady.

    xxx

  42. lady- I can’t imagine any one of us wouldn’t be freaking out if we were dealing with the same WTF stuff. Been thinking of ya’ll and beaming the love. lots of it.

  43. Oh I need to pinch those cute baby cheeks(but I wont). She is perfect and I know they will confirm that for you Friday.

    That beautiful sleeping baby in the picture doesn’t have a care in the world. She knows you guys are going to take complete care of her.

  44. I will hold your hand (I will even wash my hands before!). You have my permission to freak the fuck out, but in between, snuggle that little girlie up!
    xox

  45. Unlike your cool, casual self I am a worrier. It is a curse! I worry about losing my husband and/or my son to some horriffic accident or illness, and I constantly have to remind myself to calm-the-fuck-down!

    When Jack was in the NICU my husband CONSTANTLY told me to take things 1 day at a time, 1 hour at a time, even 1 minute at a time if necessary. Don’t let yourself get overwhelmed. It’s not worth it. Take it slow…Amelia will be perfect…you’ll see:) praying for you!

  46. becky,
    i dont know where the hell i have been, but for some reason i have totally lost track of your blog ~ bri @ unwellness changed the format of her page and used to check on all my favs from there, as opposed to…i dunno…making my OWN blogroll, or something sensible like that.

    i had to google you today.
    i will be thinking of you and miss amelia (i LOVE that name) and sending love and prayers to you all…

    but only if you please please squish her and kiss her cheeks for me, ok? 🙂

    love you my BBFF,
    gypsy

  47. I think people who deal with newborns are too smart to think right. Little Z’s neonatalogist said “If this number doesn’t come down in the next four hours, we will have to do a transfusion that she only has a 25% chance of surviving.” And then the f*cker walked away.

    I completely understand your freaking out. Not knowing is worse than knowing I think. But also, I agree with whoever said that they wouldn’t have let you bring that baby home if it was anything to worry about.

    And those CHEEKS! OMG! She’s killing me!

  48. Oh, Becks. Of course you’re worried, because this is your baby, and nobody would ever expect you to be Just Fine And Dandy while you’re waiting to find out just what the heck is happening.

    That being said, I feel deep in my heart that all will be well, and I think your sweet girl is the most precious adorable beautiful ball of yummy that has ever existed.

  49. I am virtually holding your hand dear Becky and freaking out for you:) Actually I am eschewing my regular freaking out for praying and hoping for you.
    She is so blinkin’ gorgeous, and I am so pleased for you guys. What a doll.

  50. I’m thinking of you and yours this week. I certainly hope that whatever this is turns out to be minor in nature.
    Amelia is a beautiful name. I know you announced it a while ago, it’s just that every time I see it, I think how pretty it is.

  51. Waiting with you til Friday, Aunt Becky. I’m so sorry that your first post-partum days have to have this cloud over them. Please, please let us know…

    Thinking of you and your family

  52. Not knowing what is going on or what to expect is the worst feeling, and I know that the swarms of specialists, etc. are overwhelming, but I have faith that your sweet Amelia will be just fine when this is all said and done. Thinking of you Becky! (((hugs)))

  53. Oh hugs hugs and more hugs to you. I got so I actually liked the sweet sticky smell of baby spit up so bring it on girl. Bring it on:)

    I can’t imagine. It’s the NOT KNOWING. Not knowing is the worst. Here’s praying it really is nothing and she’ll just need some minor surgery to correct it.
    HUGS to you and kisses and snuggles to that beautiful girl!

  54. You freak out if you want. Or be super calm and rational – thats totally fine too. There is no right way to deal with stuff except to deal with it and deal you ill cos you are you and she is totally gorgeous an you are her mum. Knowing a few neurosurgeons though they would have kept you in if they thought you needed to be in but they really need to be a bit more giving of the info.

  55. She is GORGEOUS!

    I would be freaking out too, whatever you do do not google anything and try not to think about any what if’s because you will drive yourself crazy.

    Amelia is so beautiful, I pray that it really is nothing but something minor and easy to correct. What a doll!

  56. Well, the Internet keeps telling me my comment won’t save. Last time this happened, at least one of them saved, so I’m going to leave it at that.

  57. Oh, so THAT ONE saves. Here’s what I said, in short —

    If you want an honest, objective response to this post, I’ve been through something simiilar and it was very painful and scary, but I think you’re over-reacting. Maybe I’m heartless and lacking in compassion.

    When I read your first “Oh sh*t” post, I thought they’d already found cancer. Reading on later, I realized all they did was put her in NICU for observation. Worrisome, but no reason for panic.

    So I’m wondering, why all the drama? You’re basically just in limbo. There’s no good news, there’s no bad news, just a cyst that can be removed. Why panic before you even know what you’re dealing with?

  58. Whoa there, Dot. You are coming off as a total BITCH. If you have a big fucking stick up your ass, you really shouldn’t read other people’s blogs and comment. Instead, I would suggest you have that stick removed. I’m sure your insurance will cover it.

    I’m not sure how you were as a mother, but when it’s YOUR baby that the doctor’s aren’t giving you a straight answer over, it’s natural for a mother to freak out.

    If you don’t like reading this blog, find somewhere else to post your “heartless” comments.

  59. While I do appreciate the honesty, Dot, I’m afraid that until you have been in the exact same situation, it’s very hard for you to judge what I may or may not be going through and how I should or should not be feeling about it. Sure, maybe I am overreacting–it hasn’t been the first time, nor will it likely be the last–but my daughter, cancer or no, will be having brain surgery in the next couple of weeks.
    Perhaps panicking isn’t the proper response here, but you know what? I can’t help how I feel. Nor can you help how YOU reacted to your own issues.

    And to be honest, I like you Dot, but I found your comment to be quite hurtful. Give me a bitch slap in a couple weeks when this is all over and we’re all home from the hospital again, but until then, please be gentle. Imagine that no matter how valid you see my drama, it is my head and my heart and my baby, and I’m just doing the best that I can.

  60. it’s awful. the waiting and the worrying. and just because someone else is in REAL brain surgery, doesn’t mean the waiting and the worrying aren’t awful. just because someone’s in more dire straits doesn’t mean you are silly to worry. so worry. because you will anyway, so just be okay being a mom who’s barely able to function for a bit. we’ll hold you while you do.

    we’ll also stare at your beautiful amelia while you do.

    so worry. it’s okay.

  61. Hey Dottie —

    You say that you’ve been through something similar, but don’t specify what it was. Thanks for sharing! Did you try to have your asshole removed? Obviously the doctors failed and now all of Becky’s readers are paying the price.

    As my mom used to say, If you don’t have anything nice to say, you should have your asshole removed. Again.

  62. I just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking of you and yours. And, you’re right, if it was serious you’d be there right now. But I understand the worry it’s just a bit taxing on the nerves (understatement of the year). If you need someone to yell at a doctor, let me know, I do it all the time.

  63. Dot:

    A suggestion. When someone speaks of things like ‘panic’ and ‘worry’, and you feel that you *might* be a bit ‘heartless’ or ‘lacking in compassion’, then perhaps, when the website has a glitch and doesn’t accept your comment on the first try, you should take it as a sign that maybe it’s not just a glitch. Maybe it’s a helping hand for you. Maybe the soul of the Internet is trying to help you out, reminding you that you should save that little insight for a time AFTER the worry has passed, and we can all talk about how there was nothing to worry about, really.

    Because me? I’ve never had a child in the NICU before last week. And while I’m sure it doesn’t sound all that scary, let me tell you: cuddling your 18-hour-old baby girl hooked up to beeping monitors and surrounded by tiny, pathetic creatures — when she just! was! born! — has a way of freaking you out a little bit. And by a little bit, I mean, a lot.

    In this case, while you’re probably right and it is nothing to worry about, and no one should need to panic and we should all be rational, well, things are a little messier in the real world and sometimes you just can’t help it. So perhaps this time it would have been better to be silent than to be right.

  64. oh girl. I seriously wish I lived closer so I could come over with a hug and a cheesecake. hugs, love. You are in my prayers. One day at a time, girllie. xo.

  65. You know how sometimes, when things are really shitty, you just want to know that people care?

    If you are not a mom, (like myself) maybe you had a horrible day at work. Maybe your boss stole the credit for a huge project you worked on. Maybe a co-worker has been spreading rumors about you. Maybe you made a huge mistake and made an important client very angry. You get home, you call a friend, and you vent.

    A good friend will listen to you, tell you how great you really are and offer to be around if you need anything.

    A great friend will bring you a pint of ice cream with two spoons and share your pain, hugging you when you get down.

    I have gotta say that, Becky, most of your readers are bringing the good ice cream for you. They are coming with the Ben and Jerry’s and it’s heartwarming to see that they took the time to pick out the best flavors (Chunky Monkey anyone?). Your readers understand that this isn’t just a shitty day at work. This is a newborn baby girl that has to undergo something pretty effing scary.

    This is why I don’t get why someone (Dot, I’m looking at you) would say something so callous to someone that is obviously just in need of some virtual friends, virtual hugs and a few bites of virtual ice cream. Nobody is forcing you to join the ice cream party, Dot – but common sense and basic decency should tell you not to kick a person when they are down. Like my mother always said, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, then shut your fucking mouth.”

    Thank God for the rest of you. I think you are helping more than you could even know. Keep the prayers coming for that sweet baby – Becky would do the same for you.

  66. Consider yourself being held, hair stroked, forehead kissed, and whatever else makes you happy. I’m on pins and needles for the post on Friday telling us that everything is just fine…

  67. Your daughter is amazing and beautiful. I won’t try to comfort you with telling you not to worry. I will simply tell you that I pray with all my heart that everything turns out in the best way possible. She is truly wonderful and beautiful, but you know that.

  68. Amelia is just beautiful. Freaking out is to be expected, possibly even encouraged, so you can get to the scene where you bitch slap yourself, laugh at yourself, then look at Amelia, delighted to see she is perfectly healthy and owes you double – not just birth, but birth followed up by brain surgery. Above and beyond, surely.

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