You see, V's had some odd bruising the past few weeks. Her armpit, around her shoulder blades, the back of her calf. Not places you expect a toddler to bruise, even a monkeyish 2 year old toddler with rambunctious 3 year old brother and a clumsy moose of a puppy. I was nervous about it, but kind of did the ostrich head-in-sand thing. Then, a friend saw Vivi without her shirt on (changing into a princess dress at a play date, not like we just walk around topless in January as a general rule). And the friend suggested, kindly and calmly, that I make a doctor's appointment. (Thanks, friend, for looking out for my littles like you do.) And instead of being a rational human being and just making the appointment and keeping my cool, I went home, put the kids down for naps, and consulted Dr. Google. I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW. Dumb-zo. By midway through naptime, I was having a full blown meltdown. Don't ever, ever, ever google "2 year old, unexplained bruising" or anything of the sort. Because you'll end up on a message board for something so scary I don't even want to say it out loud here. And you'll read all these scary stories, and you'll cry, and you'll call your mom and make HER cry, and you'll have a really awful day and not even be able to look at your daughter without crying some more. And then your sister will have to come over
Let's just say there wasn't much quality sleep last night.
And this morning, we took her to her pedi. Her new pedi, who I love, because she's The Awesomest Ever. As opposed to her old pedi, who tried to double vaccinate her and doubted my instincts on the regular and greeted us at every appointment with "nice to meet you" even though we'd met her eleventy billion times previously. Regardless. I half expected the new pedi to be all "okay mom, you're crazypants, but here, I'll indulge your crazy and bill you a bajillion and a half dollars doing so." That wasn't so much how it went. The nurse looked concerned. Then the doctor came in looking equally concerned. Then they gave her a new puzzle, a juice box, and some animal crackers while we waited for the arm numbing meds to work before the blood draw, and I felt like they were being WAY too nice to her for people who I was hoping weren't terribly concerned. And fifteen minutes later, they took five gallons of blood from my baby. She screamed and screamed, and I laid beside her on the exam table holding her close and trying to hide the quiver in my voice as I sang into her ear.
And then, we left, and we waited. J fetched A from the friends' house he was staying at, I drove home with shaky hands and a tear faced, hiccuping baby girl in the backseat, and we all went home for lunch. The kids watched Dora, J and I sat silently. He pretending he wasn't nervous, me pretending to believe him and distracting myself with internet nonsense. And finally, the pedi called. And, thank God, said all was well. Everything looked perfect. Nothing amiss. Every blood test came back smack dab in the normal range. It's likely she's just a fair skinned kid who's going to bruise, and the crawling out of her crib act she's been pulling probably wasn't helping. And maybe that the daily dose of chlorine and sunshine she soaked up during our California trip irritated her sensitive skin and some of the marks aren't bruises at all but random irritations. But all that matters is, we're not facing the Big Scary Things. I all but fell to my knees in thanks. I'm so thankful.
Puts it all in perspective, you know? My babies are healthy. Chocolate chip throwing, night waking, choo choo tug of warring, car seat fighting, grocery store screaming ..... HEALTHY kids. That's all that matters. Oh, I'm not saying I won't be back here by Thursday afternoon with a woeful tale of some random thing flushed down the toilet while I unloaded the dishwasher (Saturday it was my not cheap bottle of facial tanner) .... but this scare was a reminder to cherish every. single. moment. They're all precious. All of them.
Like this moment. From tonight.
She's in a toddler bed. (And a tutu. Because duh.) Vivi was climbing out of the crib like a mad lady lately, and after today, we decided better safe (take toddler bed plunge) than sorry (headfirst plunge from the top of the crib). I'm literally knocking on wood as I tell you she got all tucked in and ..... went to sleep. Not a single teeny Vivi toe out of that bed. Maybe it will be that easy? Famous last words? DUN DUN DUNNNNN.