Weewee Wack Day

Two days in a row we've ventured into "the city". Though its very nice to have a mid-day rendezvous with my wonderful husband, I'm glad these trips are done and we can go back to "boring" days here at the Palace. Gloria, with whom I bet 10 kisses that she'd be asleep before we got home, is in her room wailing that she's not tired. Right. That's why she was practically comatose while I was getting her out of the car. I'll wait until she's in a better mood before I collect my kisses.

You see we had a 10:15 appointment with the weewee wackers. It was a strange experience for me. Aaron was circumcised by the OB who delivered Gloria- a great doctor. Aaron got to eat before and after. We were with him the whole time. I cried with him and held his tiny hands. But the cost of the procedure almost doubled! I heard about this once a week clinic, held at the hospital, that does it for significantly less- so I signed him up! And jumped at it too as they won't perform it if he's over 11 pounds. I didn't think it would take long for him to reach that... in fact I was a bit nervous that if he started at 10 and a half and it took a couple weeks to get a slot, we'd miss our opportunity. Hind sight... it wouldn't have been a bad thing. Not that this was a horrendous experience... well, I wouldn't know, to be honest...

They took him from me.

I know. My husband will laugh when he reads this. I'm being dramatic, but I can't describe to you the anguish I felt. There he was all snuggled in the sling, extremely hungry for having not eaten for over an hour- one of their prerequisites. They called his name and we all (Randy met me there to help me kid-wrangle) went into a tiny room where I stripped him down and learned that I was to sit helpless in a waiting room while they took my little man away from me to wack his little weewee. I asked a hundred frantic questions... what? I can't go with him? Why? I was told that they will have multiple baby boys on the table at once. I pictured a Chinese hospital room with assembly line weewee wackers standing there with sharp knives and cold grimaces. A hundred tiny baby boys' voices crying for their mommies. Oh wait... they use anesthetic here... yeah, don't tell Aaron that... but still, I couldn't get the thought out of my head. I watched the nurse carry my crying little guy down the hall and slunked back into the waiting room with empty arms. They said it would probably be a half hour, then I'd get him back and could feed him, then would have to wait another hour after which they'd check him over and release us. Randy took Gloria and Aaron to a play ground. I sat alone in the waiting room, listening to about 15 other hungry baby boys crying for the grumble in their tummies... completely unaware that they would soon be crying for a whole different reason. I tried to read a very interesting article in a Smithsonian magazine about a modern day Viking ship. I reread the same paragraph 5 times before I gave up. I couldn't stop thinking about my boy being away from me. I tried to enjoy the absolute lack of responsibility... not a chance. It was sheer torture. I flipped pages and looked at pictures. I eaves dropped on strangers conversations about being in labor for 12 hours, about being so glad to get that epidural after 4 hours, about 6 and 7 pound boys being born. I wanted to stand up and demand a medal. I wanted to tell those women they were wusses and had nothing to complain about. But truth be told if I were in the hospital, I'd have been a wuss too. The only reason I was "strong" was by the utter void of other options.

Finally, a nurse walked in and sang the song of heaven, "Nathan's mom?" I jumped and ran. I must have looked like a fool, but I darn near started crying. He was fine. He was nicely swaddled in a towel for I neglected to bring a blanket as I expected him to be in the sling the whole time he wasn't on the table. He wasn't even crying. He started crying when I tried to nurse him... food, glorious food right there and it was like trying to latch on to a basketball. (With all those crying babies, my mammary glands went into overdrive.) Finally, he hooked on and ate and ate and ate. And I rocked and rocked and rocked. I was so happy to have him back. I wondered if saving a couple hundred bucks was worth that half hour of agony. I think I would take on a second mortgage less have to go through that again.

After a good while, we were called back for his check up. I called Randy and hailed him back. It was much later than we expected it to be. And Randy, true to form, had thoroughly worn out the kids. They were famished, as was I, with only Randy's lunch and couple snack bananas in hand. We headed to Chipolte's for lunch instead- a treat only available in the "big city". Gloria remarked on passing the hospital that it was a "big, big castle." And, indeed, it looked very much like a castle. I told her that's where she was born... that's proof she's a princess, because she was born in a castle. She said, "You're a princess too, Mommy." Ahhh, from the mouths of babes.

While stuffing Aaron's hungry little face with Randy's lunch, his eyes glazed over. Even the thin layer of dust and sand that completely covered him seemed tired. I leaned over and whispered that one day soon, he'd be the one wearing Daddy out. He gave a sleepy little grin as if he understood what I was saying and filed that thought away as a day to gleefully anticipate. A pile of sand sits in his carseat. Another pile is now being transplanted to his bed. Gloria, upon loading in the car for the ride home showed the extent of her tiredness and began crying over her "dirty neck". I laughed and told her she had way more than a dirty neck. She dramatically screamed, "Get it off, get it off!" What? My girl bothered by dirt? That's a new experience indeed. I wiped her neck and suggested she just close her eyes to rest, but that she didn't have to sleep... after all, we had made a bet and she was insistent upon winning. She was out before we hit the highway. I think Aaron was out before we were out of the parking lot. Nathan never woke up despite the multitude of reunion kisses he received from his adoring fans. When I finally got home, unloaded the kids and the stuff, it was time to start dinner. What did people do in horse and wagon time? Would a simple weewee wack be an overnight trip? Anyway, at least this gave me a moment to tell a tale. The house is eerily quiet. Only an occasional rooster and the hum of the AC reminds me that I'm still awake.

So I might as well continue and tell the tale of yesterday as well. That was another China-type moment. We recently learned that with the addition of Nathan we qualify for medicaid and healthy kids... great health care coverage for very little cost... however its government run so nothing can be straight forward and simple. For example, the pediatrician we LOVE takes only one group of medicaid... and that group isn't accepting new patients until the first of the year at the earliest. We wanted Nathan to be seen by a pediatrician within a few weeks of birth just for a general check up... and medicaid supposedly reimburses any expenses made up to 3 months prior to the application being processed. So last week I went to calling all the pediatricians in the area to find one that would look at a healthy little hippy, medicaid boy. Wow... that was quite the task. No one was taking new patients or they only accepted the one group, or they didn't have openings until November, etc. I finally found one... and I'll withhold the name. The nurse was really excited over hearing that he was born at home so I felt good about the find. So yesterday was the day. Load 'em up, move 'em out, raw hide! Again, Randy met me there for kid wrangling. Walking into the waiting room was a bit shocking. A single broken toy piano with no batteries sat there amidst countless pamphlets about the importance of vaccinating your children. The floor was slick and a kid fell down about every 6 seconds. Of course Gloria rather enjoys falling down, so she was doing so about every 12 seconds... but still, uh, someone want to throw down a rug or something, please? Chinsey computer printed signs about taking your dirty diapers with you were the only wall decorations. The receptionist called us up for our new patient paperwork and to get their payment. She remembered talking to me about him being born at home and again showed her approval... then asked in hushed tones if we would be declining vaccines. I said yes. "The doctor may ask you to find another physician because he feels very strongly about vaccinations." Crud. Oh well. We dumped our first pediatrician because he was constantly telling me that Gloria was going to die. Our second pediatrician is from Haiti and isn't even wigged out by our raw goats milk. In fact he's always asking us where his milk and eggs are. This new doc had a foreign name so I was hopeful. No such luck.

About an hour after our appointment time, we were called back into a room with 2 scales... both of which gave readings a half a pound different. And the higher of the two weights was still a half pound less than the reading received today at the clinic. Then we were ushered down another barren, dank hall, very Chinese-esque, to an exam room. Not a single picture hung on the wall. The dirty diaper notices were joined with a similar sign saying that any profanity would result in immediate discharge. The floor, still slick, was filthy. The laminate was peeling off the sink cabinet. The doctor came in and answered his disco-ringing cell phone before officially greeting us. Foreign... yes. Open to anything other than USDA propaganda... not a chance. Gloria and Aaron sat with Randy directly behind me, yet he talked to me as if I was a new mom. 2 or 3 times he emphasized that infants should not be given any water, juice or solid foods for 4-5 months. Duh! He also repeatedly emphasized that he be put to sleep on his back with no pillow. And then came the vaccination discussion. We went round and round for a while before he finally just said that I would have to sign the waiver. Great. I'll gladly sign your waiver, just get me out of here. Then he said we would need to come back in 2 weeks and also see an audiologist. What??? I weaseled out of that one and asked if we could wait until our medicaid came through before we made those appointments. He reluctantly agreed... though I still had to repeat that request 2 more times. And why did he need to see an audiologist??? Because they routinely test their hearing at the hospital and he was born at home. So the government (or insurance companies or self-paying parents) then have to pay the expense of a specialist! Give me a break! Clearly the kid hears because he gets woken up and startled by noises, loud and soft. I was glad to shake the dust from my feet and leave that place. Of course this means that Nathan has no pediatrician as of yet. I'm tempted to wait until our good doc's group opens, if I can. Or we go back to our first plan... charting his growth on our own and self-paying for the good doc should a need arise.

I'm so over doctors. As I said in the opening of this post, I'm quite glad to be back at home, done with the medical industry for a good long while. For those of you still in the throws of it... especially you, Lori, my prayers and heart go out to you. Hang in there. The end is in sight.