No More Holidays, Please.

We had plans this last weekend. Friday, I was going to do some shopping, some housework, get some home improvement projects started or at least start researching them… that sort of thing. Saturday, we were going to go visit the husband’s mother and brother and the whole fam-damily. Sunday we were going to have a nice, quiet Easter.

This is how the weekend really went:

At 7 AM, the youngest child climbs into my bed and complains of a stomach ache. While he was sick on Monday of last week and had had a bad tummy for most of the rest of the week, I wasn’t that concerned. Until I rubbed his tummy and he flinched.

Let me rewind about three years here, to Mother’s Day weekend when Son #2 was in kindergarten. He’d been sick for a week with a fever and strep that just didn’t seem to be getting better. He’d had stomach aches off and on for weeks but nothing we were particularly concerned about. The docs were figuring it was stress related since he’s a little high strung. But that Friday night, after a week of antibiotics and a fever that wouldn’t quit, I was laying on the floor rubbing his tummy when he flinched. Four hours later, he was having emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix. The strep had masked the symptoms.

So on Friday morning when the little one flinched, I didn’t waste any time. We went to the ER right away, even though I figured I was being paranoid. No way I could have two kids with appendicitis, right?

Son #3 was in surgery at 3:00. The doc and the nurses all said it runs in families. If Son #1 has a tummy ache ever, we’re so going to the hospital!

Today, he’s home from school but doing well. Our middle boy had a terrible time after his surgery and ended up in the hospital for a week. This one is made of tougher stuff, though his was not nearly as serious as we caught it sooner. Still, he needs to take it easy and he’s more interested in running around like a yahoo. He’ll learn when he wears out. And he will wear out.

I was just having a conversation with a good friend the other night about how we, as mothers, really need to trust our guts. We have so many doubts and so many voices telling us what’s best for our kids, that we;re being paranoid about their health, etc. etc. When Son #2 got sick, I doubted myself. When we went to the ER, I kept telling the doctors and nurses that he was probably fine. He wasn’t fine, and my gut had been right. This time, I thought I was crazy, but went with my gut anyway. Good thing I did. I was right. That makes me feel a little bit better as a mother. Oh, I still screw up. A lot. But I guess when it counts, at least with their health, I have good instincts. So I need to listen to them more. But that’s another blog altogether.


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