Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Sometimes you feel like a nut...




Remember that commercial jingle for mounds candy bars, it's my new mantra.

That eerie, all to familiar, calm before the storm feeling was overwhelming this morning at work. Wait, let me back up. Little girl woke up this morning and felt warm, not burning hot - just warm. I took her temp and it 100 degrees, a mild fever I thought or maybe just buried under too many blankets. An hour later, right as we were getting ready to walk out the door and it was 99 degrees so I thought ok, good - let's move forward with the day.




So, around 9:15 AM I got a phone call from SIL that Little girl was not feeling or looking well. By the time I picked her up - 15 minutes later she had already thrown up and her fever had spiked. I spent the day giving her three luke warm baths, watching her temperature go up and down, dodging a bowl of Campbell's chicken noodle soup, having gatorade drooled allover my arm resulting in my shirt sticking to my skin and ripping the hair off of my arm - it' a glamorous life I lead. D called to say he was on his way home with Big girl and I was ready to run, not walk out the door to have adult conversations in my class that is taught by the most boring professor ever as I took her temperature and it had spiked again - to 103 - HOLY CRAP. I grabbed little girl and the diaper bag and gave a quick update and "love you" to D, ran to the doctors where they were able to break the fever and get it down to 99 degrees and return home three hours later.




The closest Urgent care that accepts her insurance was a county neighborhood clinic that is connected to the WIC office, oh yay, fun. We got ushered in right away and I'm surprised they didn't refer us to the regional county hospital. The PA and Doctor were both AMAZING and I got to speak with both of them about retirement issues while they were administering a huge dose of some antibiotic that was like the miracle drugs of all miracle drugs - she was literally up dancing an hour later. I have the drug name written down but I'm deliriously tired.





Everyone in the office thought she was just the most beautiful little girl ever and wanted the full update on the situation which is difficult to do. I can't release too many details and I choked back the tears as I got to hear things like "she looks just like you", "she calls you mama, how sweet" and my personal favorite "she's so lucky to have you". That last one nearly killed me.






Little girl has been saying some cute stuff this week, one morning I walked into thier room and said "Good Morning Sunshine" and now she calls everyone sunshine but it comes out like Shun-shine and it is about the most adorable thing EVER. She also says Thank you for everything and it comes out sounding like Tank-ew. Friggin adorable. D and I are trying to figure out what to do the night they leave. In fact, thinking about that night reminds me of the night we found out we had miscarried, we had my family over and then went to Islands for dinner. It was bizarre and I as I reflect I feel like I didnt make a big enough deal about mourning that loss. It's a completely different loss. We were thinking of going to dinner here though Jules gave a good suggestion - ordering a pizza and watching some movies on netflix. We will be going to work the next day. That day is going to suck monkey balls.






In other news, the birth parents decided to call a 1/2 hour late and so we didn't let them talk to the girls - I'm sure the agency and social worker (except my blog friends, IRL friends and family) will some way to turn this into a negative on our part. Screw them. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the birth parents recieived/accepted our request to move visits from Sat/Sun to Fri/Sat. It's just stupid that two people who don't work and sit around eating flaming hot funyons can't watch their own kids. We would have done this earlier; however, Big girl was in summer school, five days a week.

Tomorrow will bring a follow up appointment at the clinic and a meeting with the case manager from our agency, on top of work, school assignments and the other crap that my life is comprised of.

Bring it on.... How many more days until vacation?

5 comments:

Emily (Apron Strings) said...

Aw, Kara ... what a day you've had! And little girl sounds absolutely "a-dow-a-bul" when she talks.

And good for you for not letting the birth parents talk to the girls. I mean, there are certain things called ... a-hem ... responsibility?

Good luck with your meeting with the case manager tomorrow and hopefully the days will go by quickly until you're on vaca ...

HUGS!

Barb said...

I'm finally back. Sorry for all the heartache chickie.

kate said...

Ah. The girls are just adorable, especially with the things that little girl says.

Geez. I know how hard this has been for you, and though it will be bittersweet, the end will come soon. Through this experience, you've been able to focus more specifically about what you want from your agency, what you're willing to accept or not, and even just more about how to deal with their social workers, etc. You will be so much more prepared for your next experience. You know that I don't mean to be cold about it, but I think it will be an incredible relief to you when the girls have gone back to their birth parents. I don't mean to diminish your sadness at their departure, but it does seem like you have begun to look forward to your next opportunity to be a parent. I suppose I say all of this just to supportively say- it's almost over, hang in there, you can do it, etc. And bonus! You get a vacation soon! How cool!!!

Ally said...

Oh, Kara, what a day you've had. It sounds like you handled things so beautifully, in the way that Little Girl deserves. It makes my heart break that you have to give the girls back. But I do know you have made an indelible mark on their lives. I encourage you to do something to mark their loss-you have earned it. You continue to be in my thoughts as you navigate these waters.

Io said...

Oh Kara, what a crappy day. I hope this is over soon.