Last week I took baby A to the hospital for a routine blood test for her thyroid. T had taken her to a medical lab the week before but they had not been able to get a good vein so the poking and prodding had been in vain. The lab at the hospital was a better bet for finding kids' veins.I was not looking forward to it but it had to be done so off we went, just the two of us. I had had a restless night so I was bone tired. Being tired is not unusual for me but most of the time, bad nights are due to one or both of the kids. So, I was scanning my state trying to figure out what was bugging me. As we made our way there, parked and walked to the lab it became increasingly obvious. I was having an internal freak-out about the needle that was about to pierce my precious child's arm. I've always hated needles and the thought of her happy little self suddenly feeling pain while I held her there insisting that it was good and the right thing to do was causing a turmoil that kept me awake and created a pit in my stomach. As I waited there with her in the waiting room, I kept thinking how foolish I was. After all, she's healthy. We've only had a few routine tests. We've never had a hospital stay. We've only had one really bad fever / flu. We are so blessed and lucky. And yet, there I was shaking in my boots.
Her cry of protest was heartbreaking but the very experienced nurses did their work quickly and little A was cheerful again long before I was.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, I can't believe the bravery of all the parents I've read about who have kept vigils for their little ones while they undergo all kinds of scary procedures. Brain operations, heart operations, bowel operations. I'm also trying to say THANK YOU GOD! We are so lucky to have been spared that walk so far and my heart and prayers go out to all families who are in waiting rooms with that pit in their stomachs.
