Instincts

This has been a crummy winter here at Fort Procos, Oakland Ca.
I never enjoyed winter weather anyway, but we have been hit hard by rain, cold & gloom (okay, for California standards) which is bad enough, but we've been hit harder by various virus storms as one low pressure system nails us after another.
The bad weather has driven Zoertins and I indoors, away from fun outings at the parks and forests. Instead, we've been spending a lot of time making use of our YMCA membership. Swim class, yoga class, kindergym and childwatch are all cess pools of snotty germs. In December, we had the flu. At New Years, we had nasty, long colds. And now, we've both gotten some new nasty cold which has left Zoe feeling tired, grumpy and feverish for a week. Last night, Zoe woke up coughing and crying and much as we tried, we weren't able to soothe her. More coughing led to more crying which in turn sparked more terrible coughing until we were downright worried about her breathing. We took her to the ER which turned out to be filled with sick little kids and a thug who put his fist through a wall. Most folks looked miserable, many with barf cups. Not the place anyone wants to be in the middle of the night, especially with our downtrodden imune systems. We thought about turning and running for the door. Zoe had calmed down, but was still wimpery. She was breathing fine, but something just didn't feel right. The flourescent lights and blaring TV wouldn't let her go to sleep. The wait went on and on. There were no rooms available, and they had to do triage on our laps. Some folks were being treated in hallways, and on the laps of their of their friends. My internal stress mode went on red flashing sirens. My pulse raced. Our sick little family huddled in the corner trying to follow an old Seinfeld episode. Sit, stay. When? The 10:00 news hour passed, the 11:00 news hour passed. Finally, we were shuffled into a room around midnight, with Zoe asleep, quiet in her stroller, breathing softly, almost silently, and we were beginning to regret putting us all through this medical torture assignment. A kind faced young doctor came in and with great practiced stealth, listened to her breathing while she slept. He didn't make us feel badly for bringing her in when she appeared okay. He explained the signs of distressed breathing very carefully. Then he slowly eased his stethescope into her pink fleece jammies. Sounds good. Then bracing her head with an adept hand, he managed what few doctors have before- he peeked into her ears and down her screaming throat. "Her breathing is good, but she has a raging ear infection". The tears welled up in my eyes, how could I have missed that? Probably because she is unable to say, "mommy, my ears hurt". By 1 AM, we had bottles of liquid Motrin and antibiotics to start right away. In the morning, she woke up crying and with a fever, but with another dose of each, was soon feeling better and sipping apple juice, nibble breakfast. If we had run from the ER when her breathing seemed okay, we wouldn't have figured out what was really wrong until everyone had been up all night, and we managed an appointment at some time today.
It's hard to see your baby sick, to hear them crying and not be able to soothe them. It's hard to fix something when you don't what is wrong. She can't tell me what bothers her, and I can only make guesses. Guess when I should panic, guess when I should just rock her calmly and hum. I think it just comes down to instincts. A mommy knows when something is really wrong- never second guess that instinct.