Friday, January 1, 2016

Every year I wonder where the year has gone. 

How did it fly by so quickly?

How did my kids grow so much?

How...how...how...

Some days, when they are particularly hard and I'm stressed because of work, and school, and K is gone, I wish time away.  I hate that I do it, and it makes me sad when I realize what I'm doing. But I sometimes find myself saying 'when she is older/when he is older' and I hate myself for it.  

I really don't want the time to pass. I ask the kids all the time to stop growing, to which they look at me, and giggling, tell me no.

I wish they could slow down. I wish they could stay this way forever. I want the loves, the cuddles, the need for their mommy. I know it won't last, and my heart hurts knowing that they are growing up, and I never know when they will stop.

Already Bubba will only give kisses on your arm. It's adorable, and I'll never force him to kiss me, and I'm happy for the kisses he's willing to share. 

Bug, she's still such my lover. When K is gone, she wants to hug me, and hold me and lay with me, cuddle me and kiss me and just hang out with me. 

I. Love. Every. Minute. Of. It.

2015 was an amazing year.  I made it through 2 more semesters of my MBA. We had our entire first year in our newest home. My job continued to go well, K's job continued to go well.  Bug came a long way with her speech and preparing for Kindergarten next year. Bubba grew up so much that he is really, truly no longer my baby.  I passed a milestone that I never would have thought I'd be interested in hitting as I hit the 2 year mark of nursing Bubba (and then some).

I spent time frustrated, I let my temper get the best of me. I loved my husband and remembered time and time again why I married this man. My heart ached for those lost too soon while it also filled, even more, with love for those still here. 

I made attempts to see family that I don't see often enough. I remembered those that have had their own struggles in their lives. I started to work out again, and kept at it.  I cycled through eating better and giving in to my carb/sugar cravings. I enjoyed some drinks.

And I loved. Oh did I love. 

I thanked the Lord every day that I am still here, that I have the family I have and the life I love. Even during my most difficult days, when I'm ready to run away, I was able to remind myself of 2 things; this too shall pass, and even in the rough moments I'm a lucky lucky woman. 

So I close out 2015 feeling good, feeling proud. Knowing I wasn't always at my best, and that there's improvements needed. But I close it out happy.

I open 2016 knowing that I'll try and sometimes I'll still fail at things. I'll have days of stress and difficulties, but I'll continue to love my life. 

So here's to hoping that everyone has a wonderful year.  

Thursday, October 22, 2015

You are my World

Every night, when I get to tuck you in, I hold you tight and try to memorize the feel of your warm bodies against me.  The way they fit in my arms.  The way your heads fit just right into the crook of my neck, or on my chest, or my tummy.  The way your little hands curl up between my breasts, or around my waist, or twiddle with my hair.

The way you throw your little legs over my leg.  Or the way you spoon your little body with mine.  The way you tuck your face into my neck and face.  The way you smell like little girl mixed with dirt and paint.  The way you sometimes want me to tuck you in, and others, in your own show of independence, you do not.  The sound of you as you suck on your tongue.  The way you ask me to leave your door open, and sometimes you ask me to come back in and tuck you in, just one more time.

The way you crawl up in the glider when we go to your room.  The way you let me pick you up and sit down with you on my lap, the way you look up at my and simply say 'nurse mama.'  The way you nurse, and insist that my arm stays around you.  If I move it, for even a second, you reach up and pull it back to you.  When I hold you before putting you in your crib, I try to memorize the weight of you.  The smell of your hair, and your neck.  That smell that lingers on baby boy while toeing the line into just boy. The way your head rests on my shoulder while your legs hang down past my hips.

Every night, when I check on you just one more time before I go to bed myself, I watch you.  In the silence of the night when you are at your most peaceful, I try to memorize the way your eyes and nose fit in your faces.  I try to memorize the way your little mouths hang open, just a bit, as you slumber.  I watch to see your chest rise and fall, and I cover you if you've kicked them off.  I apologize if I got short with you today, even if I already apologized while you were awake.  I try to remember these moments, because they will be gone too soon.  I try to not to think of the day that you won't want these cuddles, that you'll go to bed without begging for one more story, or one more song. One day you'll simply stop asking to nurse, or you'll stop asking me to check on you just one more time.

I try not to think of that day where you go to bed wanting these kisses and cuddles, and you'll wake up too big for them.

Because no matter what I do, and no matter how much I want it, I cannot slow down the process, nor can I stop it.  You will grow up, and I don't want to forget these moments.

Monday, January 19, 2015

Parenting after Infertility

One would think that parenting after infertility would be the easy part.  I mean really, after days, months, years of trying, of dealing with failure after failure, parenting should be the easy part.  After temping, taking ovulation enhancing drugs, sticking myself with a needle for daily, no make that twice daily, injections just to BECOME a parent.  Parenting should be the easy part.

As it turns out, that’s not the case.

First, all that I’ve gone through, all the emotions, all the let downs.  The day that I found out I was pregnant was a joyous one.  For a minute, or maybe two.  Then the fear set in.  I was only about 5 weeks along.  I had to make it to week 13 for the chances of a miscarriage to drop drastically.  That means harboring this precious secret while every day I  live in fear.  Every time I  pee I checked the toilet paper for red.  Then it happened, spotting.  A phone call to the doctor in tears.  A quick visit to the doctor and affirmation that everything was OK.  The heartbeat was strong. 

As the weeks pass I gain a baby bump.  I deal with the heartburn, extreme fatigue, sore breasts, morning sickness, hunger, cold sores, bloody nose, Charlie horses, bloody gums, headaches.  And the fear remains.  I don’t want to complain about the symptoms, after all, I’ve worked so hard to get here and so many couples out there are still struggling to get to where I am today.  So I have to suffer in silence for fear of alienating those friends that I have made.  I start to show, but still I cannot tell anyone.  Only a select few people know outside of K and I.  My best friend, one other close friend who gave me an OB referral and my mom.  Another close friend is pregnant and shares her happy updates.  I feel my heart sink with every update, living with the what if that infertility drives into your mind.  What if this baby doesn’t stick.  So I don’t even tell this friend that I am pregnant.

Week 13 comes and goes.  I can’t hide it anymore.  Whispers are in the hallways.  People have it figured out.  Week 14 and I can’t continue to hover over this secret, but telling it is going to jinx it.  Telling everyone will make the worst happen.  That’s what infertility has taught me, right?  But I have to.  Hiding it now is tearing me apart.  So I do.  I tell my employees, the rest of my closest friends and family, but that’s it.  Then I hold my breath for days on end, fearing what will happen.  Then I spot again.  End up at the ER, scared to death.  I’m pushing 20 weeks, I can’t possibly lose the baby now.  This is happening because I shared in my good news.  But all turns out OK.  Some of the symptoms of carrying another being have dissipated.  Morning sickness is reduced, although still shows up sometimes.  Heartburn sucks, but again, I don’t complain. 

As the weeks go by I start to get more comfortable in being pregnant.  Sometime in the middle of my second trimester I finally buy the first baby item.  It’s a monkey head with a little blanket.  I sit at the store fingering the edges, loving on the softness.  I give in and purchase it.  Then a pair of socks.  Then as the third trimester nears we finally allow ourselves to buy the crib, the glider.  The room starts to get set up for the baby, although it doesn’t get finished until the third trimester.

Then I am slammed with more fear as I call the doctor in my 31st week of pregnancy with some symptoms that I cannot fully explain.  They have me come in for a stress test to find out I’m having contractions.  Nothing big, but they’re there.  So onto bed rest, for 5 ½ weeks.  By this time my whole body aches as I continue to gain weight, but am not allowed to get up and move to help relieve the pain and pressure.  I’m only 5 feet tall, so the baby is sitting on my bladder and pushing into my ribs at the same time.  I can’t breathe.  But still I am afraid to complain. 

My due date comes and goes.  I don’t want to be induced, and I know the doc is watching me close.  But what if something goes wrong with the labor?  What if my baby is born still?  These fears are so real that I can taste them.  I have now felt this baby move for months, I have fallen in love, as has K.  But what if. 

I go into labor.  For the one time during my quest to parenthood I am able to allow my body to do what it was meant to do.  The fear is there, but hidden in the back of my mind for now.  Finally.  Labor is long and difficult (29 hours).  They have to break my water and break scar tissue.  I am on oxygen.  We deal with the baby’s heart rate dipping.  We have internal monitoring and they mention possible c-section.  I am so afraid to let it go longer, but want to do this the old fashioned way.  Finally, she is ready to come meet us.  A vacuum is used, but no big deal.  It’s a girl.  She’s beautiful as they lay her on my chest in all her red faced screaming glory.  She is ours.  She is love.  SHE is the reason that we went through the treatments, the medications, the injections, the pain, the fear, the marriage almost lost.  She is amazing.

She is running a fever and very jaundiced.  She ends up in NICU for 2 days.  I am so afraid, but thankful that her issues are minor.  She is released less than 24 hours after I am.  We never even left the hospital, she goes home with us.   

Now it should be easy, right?

We struggle with breastfeeding.  It’s not easy, but I was warned, I thought I was prepared for this. 

Now we are at home, with a newborn.  We want to do everything right.  She wants to nurse, but falls asleep at the breast.  After 1 day we call the pediatrician in tears – she hasn’t had a wet diaper.  They want to see her.  They are very pro breastfeeding, but he tells me we HAVE to give her a couple of ounces of pumped breastmilk in a bottle.  We have to KNOW that she is getting some.  She drinks it that night.  Next day still not enough diapers.  They check her bilirubin levels again and tell us to keep it up.

Now we’re exhausted, and our little miracle screams.  All day.  All night.  She won’t sleep, which means I don’t sleep.  She wants to nurse, All.  Day.  Long.  But it hurts to nurse, because she doesn’t have a good latch.  So I almost give up.  K says it’s OK to give up.  But I WON’T.  I refuse.  I want her to have this, I want to have this.  So we continue on.  We use an SNS, we use a nipple shield.  I pump daily to make sure she’s getting enough.

After weeks I feel like I’m going to break down.  But I can’t complain, because there are others behind me that are still trying to do this, and they DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT.  They don’t want to hear how TOUGH it is being a parent.  They’ve made the same promises I did when dealing with treatment.  They just KNOW that it won’t be this hard on them, so why is this hard for me?  I can hear their voices in my head asking me this.

By the time she is a month old, I feel broken.  Maybe this was why I wasn’t meant to be a mother.  I can’t handle it.  I think, and people tell me, that crying is normal.  But I know it must be something else.  A baby screaming all day and not sleeping at all is not normal.  But I can’t hardly think straight because I’m so tired.  I fear going back to work in a few weeks.  How will I ever make it?

But still, I can’t complain.  Because I’m infertile.  Because I’ve PROMISED that I won’t complain.  I’ve BEGGED to have this.  I’ve PRAYED to be blessed with this child.  So I can’t complain.  There are others who are still out there, trying for their miracle.  There are others that would sneer at me for complaining about this wonderful life I now have.  They are there, in the background, just waiting for the moment that I mess up and break down.

At 4 weeks old our little girl is diagnosed with Reflux.  At 5 weeks old she starts medication.  By 6 weeks she is a whole new baby.  I am finally able to mostly wean from the nipple shield.  She even starts taking a bottle.  From K only, not me.  By the time I go back to work, things have settled down some.

She never did become a good sleeper.  At 4 1/2 she's finally getting better.  There have been days, weeks, where I thought I would lose my mind due to lack of sleep.  I took days off of work and took her to daycare, just so that I could go home and sleep.  I started this blog sometime around her 5th month.  While some of my followers were IF followers, some of them were not.  Some were and have come out on the other side.  I allowed myself to open up on this blog more so than anywhere else.  I allowed myself that chance to complain as non infertile mothers are allowed when they struggle with parenthood. 

Parenting after Infertility provides it’s own unique set of circumstances.  Fertile mothers are allowed to complain through all these trials and tribulations.  They are allowed to have moments where they dislike being pregnant, or where they have to put their baby down and go into another room.  Infertile parents are put on a pedastol.  We asked for this, so we have to take it in stride, with no complaints.  We have to accept that we begged for this, so complaining puts a stigma on your head.  It shouldn’t be like this. 

Parenting is HARD.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  There are so many beautiful moments, but there are difficult, heart breaking moments as well.

2 children born now, after the throws of infertility.  When I first wrote this she was not even 2 yet.  Now we have a son who will be 2 very soon.  He too made for difficulties, but nothing compared to her - nothing compared to even how she still is.  He had reflux that was more difficult to treat, we spent hours bouncing on the exercise ball to calm his nerves and reflux.  But he was not soothed by nursing to the extent that she was.  Which was the one thing that by his birth I knew how to do well.

Parenting after infertility should not be the journey that it is.  Most parents feel this isolation that I speak of, this thought that everything should be perfect.

Please know, it's not, and it's not supposed to be.  I know we asked for this, we begged for this, we cleared out our savings and our sanity for this.  That doesn't mean it's going to be easy.  That doesn't mean that we'll love every Godforsaken moment of it.  Because there's a reality in there that we aren't recognizing, that is as true for us infertiles as it is for the rest of the world.

That reality my fellows, is that parenting is HARD.

But I promise, it's the most rewarding thing that you'll ever do.

For once - it will meet that expectation.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Senility

It's like it's a dirty word.

A horrible dirty word.

We lost K's dad 9 years ago this month, he passed from sepsis, but it was exacerbated by his morbid obesity and other health issues.

K's mom is a sweetheart.  I really love her and feel lucky that I got such an awesome extended family when I met, and then married K.

Which makes it that much more heartbreaking as I watch her walk the line, dancing from side to side, heading into some type of senility/dementia.

It's gotten worse over the last 5 or so years.  2 years ago she had a blood clot removed from her brain - but it was (thankfully) more on the outside of her skull.  It was right before Goose was born.

Sidetrack for a minute - Goose isn't Goose anymore.  He's bubba now.  I'll tell that story later.

Anyways.

Her memory got worse after her surgery.  It didn't surprise any of us, it was kinda expected based on the fact that she had pretty major brain surgery.

But the last year has been really bad.

About a month ago she went to bed at 8 one night, got up around 10 and put the dog in the car to take her to doggy daycare.  She thought it was morning.  She 'hit a curb' doing '30 miles an hour'.  The airbag went off.  The car is totaled.  It was a 2 year lease, about 4 days away from her turn in date.  She honestly has NO CLUE what happened, how it happened, or really where she was (or if she had gap insurance for that matter).  She went to court.  And kept her license.

Her doctor started telling her 2 years ago that he doesn't think she should drive.  She wants a new car. Every one of her kids (there's 4 of them) have tried (using different methods) to convince her not to.  But she a) doesn't want to lose her independence and b) doesn't typically remember the conversations.  We had a long conversations (2 of her kids and me) with her on Christmas about it, and about all the options she has to get all around so that she doesn't need a car.  The next day she barely remembered the conversation.

For Christmas, K drove the 2 hours to where she lives and picked her up, together they took her dog to doggie daycare, and then he brought her here.  I picked up my brother in law from the airport, and we beat K and their mom by about 10 minutes.  When they walked into the house, my mother in law looked at my brother in law (her son) and said 'Hi, I'm K's mom'  the room went silent.  We all thought she was joking.

She wasn't.

We had to point out to her that it was her son.  It was heartbreaking.

The next day she was telling my brother in law something and she said 'oh never mind, I told you that already when you picked me up.'  He didn't.  K did.

On Saturday the boys took her back home, and picked up the dog from doggy daycare with her.

On Monday, on the 8th call of the day to K (yes, this is normal) she mentioned that her car (that's been totaled) was out at doggie daycare being fixed.  K was quite confused and questioned her about it - reminding her that her car had been totaled.  She questioned then how did the dog get out to doggie daycare over the weekend?

These are only a couple of the most recent examples.  It's heartbreaking, and scary.  She's only 62 or 63.  But her mom had severe dementia, and one of her sisters has just been accepted into a clinical trial at Cleveland Clinic for dementia of some form or another.

We are looking at trying to convince her to sell her condo and move into independent/assisted living out here near us.  We'd see her more, which I think would be good for everyone.  We are the closest to her other than her daughter, who is quite not right - a lot because of her emotionally abusive husband (more on that in other posts).  We are trying to do it from the stance of 'it's her decision' since that seems to be how she seems most receptive.

I'm sad, and scared.  We're in the best position to take care of her.  And out of the 4 kids, only 2 of them really should be the ones in consideration anyways (did I mention that the oldest son wouldn't fly out to see her after brain surgery even though the youngest brother was going to pay for the ticket???)

Any suggestions?  Idea's on how in the world to convince her to sell her condo and move here?  We gotta make it happen.  Otherwise people, I honestly fear for her safety and wellbeing.

Friday, January 2, 2015

Where have I been?

I forgot how tough school was.  I really did.

Every. Single. Waking. Moment (that wasn't spent on kids of course) was spent on schoolwork.  Studying, homework, quizzes, reading, you get the gist.

I finished my first semester back for my MBA with 2 A's.  I'm a proud person right now.  I'm showing my kids how hard work and determination can get you whatever you want out of life.  I'm showing them that education is important.

But I'm learning to balance it all.  And it's a balance.

There have been moments where I let my kids watch too much TV because I needed to get in some studying.

I've given up my precious sleep (and trust me, I need it) to get in more studying.

I've given up the limited time I have with K, all in the name of studying.

It's not easy, but it will be worth it in the end.

The next semester starts in just over a week.  I'm trying not to stress, but wind up at the same time.  I spent tonight reading the first chapter in my Economics book.  Scintillating I tell you.

Christmas was great.  We typically have a low key, just us holiday.  But this year my brother in law came to visit for the first time in 2 years.  So that started everything - we added in my mother in law, my parents and my brother.  It was wonderful seeing everyone, having people here, and enjoying the holiday in a house filled of family, laughter, food, and drink.

It was especially nice to see my brother in law.  He's doing really good right now, happy with the girl he's dating.  There's nothing I want more than to see that man happy.  We've had our ups and downs since we met 15 years ago (after K and I started dating), but he's such a good guy, and he's really K's best friend, and always has been.

My kids were spoiled, both with the tangible (thanks brother in law mentioned above, and yes, ourselves to an extent) and the intangible (TIME!!!  Time with us all!!!).  K was home for both Thanksgiving (which we also hosted, but just my parents and brother) and Christmas.  It's insane that his new(ish) job he's got top seniority - the positive about flying one of the planes that has a smaller fleet, but still enough pilots to not screw him.

He was gone for new years, but let's be honest, I haven't watched the ball drop in years - babies that don't sleep the best and a mama who needs lots of sleep don't really allow that to happen.

The positive is that he'll be home Tuesday, and Wednesday we'll be leaving for Disney World!

So cheers, I hope your holidays went well!!!

(and Becky - thanks for asking  - Bug's speech continues to improve everyday!!  It's AMAZING!!  Although interestingly, I swear she's taken a step or 2 back after being off for 2 weeks... I practice with her and can't help but wonder if it's normal??)

Friday, October 17, 2014

Bugs speech delay will not win

Wow, it's been a bit since I've managed to write.  So much for a computer helping to make that happen :-)  Needless to say, school, work and the kids have kept me busy!!

So when we bought a house back in April, one of the things that we looked for, as I'm sure most, if not all, parents do, was a good school district.  Shortly after moving I outreached to the school district to talk to them about getting Bug assessed.

Let me back up a step.  I've mentioned many times that Bug has a speech delay.  Well initially we had her assessed b Early Intervention back at 18 months.  We used them until she hit age 3, which is when she aged out.  They would have transferred her over to the school district at that time, but we did NOT like the school district we were in, and therefore went on our own and worked with her, did the speech therapy thing, etc.

So I knew that at 3 we could get help.

Well we moved shortly before her 4th birthday.  So I called the new school district and asked them about getting her assessed.  It was at the end of the school year, so they sent me out the paperwork but advised that an assessment wouldn't happen until the new school year.  Which I was OK with.  I actually even held off on sending the paperwork for a bit so that I could send in the most up to date information.  So I sent it in early August.

They came out and did an initial assessment at home.  K and I were both here, and we actually got her to say a lot during this initial assessment.  At the beginning of the assessment, the woman doing it let us know the steps of the process.  The initial at home assessment, then if they determined the child warranted further review a play assessment at one of the schools where a team of people assess and make the decision together.  Then they would decide at what level of need the child was at.  For example, just speech therapy in the home, or maybe at her current daycare, all the way up to being eligible for the school districts preschool program.

So they did the in home assessment, and before the woman left she advised that they would want to bring Bug in for a play assessment.

So we took her in for the play assessment.  K handled the majority of that assessment as I was only able to stay for a little while.  They let me know before I left that they would schedule a meeting after they had a chance to meet and decide what to do, and that meeting would be either a 'your child is fine' kinda meeting, or they would present their findings and an IEP.

When I talked to K after the play assessment was over, I asked him what he thought.  He said they eluded to the fact that she would be eligible for some services, but we weren't sure what.  It took a few weeks before I got the call, but they scheduled an IEP meeting.  Based on the call I knew it was an actual IEP meeting and not a 'give your kid a break, she's fine' meeting.  And I was happy about that - she has come so far, but I think we need the professionals to be back in the mix now.

So, I went to the meeting.  K wasn't able to come, but my mom was, and I was really glad that she was able to tag along.

It was kinda crazy when I got there and there were 5 people in the room.  I felt a bit stressed about that at first.  There was the speech therapist, 2 preschool teachers, the school psychologist and the person who did the initial at home assessment.  They started off the meeting by going over each of their individual thoughts/findings/assessments of Bug.  Nothing was surprising.

The speech therapist then went over where she fell on her language skills.  They found her receptive language just barely normal, which is what i expected.  I think she's got better receptive then what they gave her credit for, but knowing my daughter like I do, she didn't show them everything she can do.  She gets shy, and when pushed in a situation she's not fully comfortable in she kinda shuts down. And they did say she didn't talk much for them, in fact, the speech therapist sat outside the bathroom door when K took her to the bathroom, because she was fighting him on going - and using her words. Yeah, that's my girl ha ha.

Anyways, then the part that made this mama cry came in.  They diagnosed her with a developmental delay.  That was HARD.  Her score was WELL below normal.  But they all said (and I've often wondered) that they think part of it is her significant speech delay.  What they told me is that a developmental delay in educational terms is different than the medical term.  It's given to children ages 3 - 5 who show delays in pre academics.  Things like rote counting to 10, recognizing shapes, colors, numbers, letters, etc.

She struggles with these things.  We work on it, but she still struggles.

So it wasn't a surprise.  But the fact that she fell so far below normal was enough to break me down.

In the end, she qualified for their preschool program.  So Monday through Thursday morning she'll attend preschool in our school district from 8:35 - 11:05.  She will get 40 minutes of speech therapy a week. Her IEP is very detailed with the goals they are aiming for in terms of words and/or signs that others can understand, the number of capital letters she will recognize, how far she can rote count, etc.  The school district will pick her up at daycare and drop her back off; and a car seat will be used (yeah!!).

She is the 9th child in the class, and they can have up to 12.  No more than 4 of them can be 'typical' peers.  They have 1 teacher and 2 aides, plus the speech therapist that comes in on Mondays.  Amazing ratios.  I have very high hopes.  I'm happy with the school district so far.

I got a chance to talk to her teacher, and I LOVE him.  He was actually doing a play assessment with another little boy when we took Bug in for hers, and I could tell just how good he is with kids.  Talking to him reiterated that fact.  You can tell he's in it for the right reasons.

So, the IEP meeting was last Friday.  We are still working on getting the transportation set up since pick up/drop off isn't at home.  But yesterday K drover her and took her to the program so that she could have someone there for her first day, as well as having a day break on Friday to help let it settle in.

K really likes the teacher too, and that's a wonderful wonderful thing.

So.  Here's to the next phase in our lives.  Here's to getting our Bug the additional help she needs, and here's to hoping that this time next year I'll be telling you all about the person my little girl is; and not just what I know because I know her, but what I know because she is TELLING me.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

A mother's intuition

So, as mentioned in my post Sweet Bug from the other day.... I called the 'new' doctor.  They weren't accepting new patients until after the first of the year because they are switching to EMRs.

I couldn't deal.  Bug had been in so much pain.

So I called her current peds office the day after that last post.  They were going to get me in with their normal ped, and I requested a different one.  So they got me in with the only male in the practice.

For a minute I felt kinda bad, making my 4 year old daughter show her butt to a guy that she's only met like twice, when she won't hardly let us see it because of the pain.

But I didn't have a choice.

So we went in, and we all went.  He asked first about what was going on.  So we explained it all.  And he asked what the other doc had said, and we told him - sitz bath.

He flat out was like 'that won't work.' Mind you, this was before he even looked at her!!!

So, he did really good with getting her attention, calming her down, redirecting her while he checked out her eyes and ears.  Then he looked at her poor little butt.

The minute he looked at it he said 'this is strep'

He let us know that they used to be able to do the rapid strep test (yes, the same one for your throat) in the office, but the FDA said they couldn't do that any longer for the butt.  So the only way to 'verify' was a 2 day lab test... which he said right off that it was a bad case, and there was NO WAY he was making Bug wait that long for relief.  He was like 'I've seen this multiple times, I promise it's what it is.'

Even with everything going on I chose to trust him.

So she got an antibiotic and a prescription cream.

We are just over a week into the meds and her butt is completely cleared up.  She's, for the most part, no longer holding her poop.  Sometimes she still does, but I think that's because she's trying to get used to the fact that it doesn't hurt any longer - after all the time that it did.

She's going poop on the potty sometimes.  I figure that we're completely starting poop training from the beginning, and I'm OK with that.

And I called a contact I have in the system we use and she is going to help ensure that I can either get in permanent with this doctor we saw, or a new office.

Because I will NEVER. EVER. see that loser of a pediatrician again.  She's absolutely worthless and I'm NOT wasting my time for someone that wouldn't take the time to really look at my daughters problem, even after multiple complaints.

It was a good thing K was with us that day, because I'm pretty sure I would have caused a scene when leaving the office.  Instead I waited to call until I calmed down.

I'm just thankful that I finally listened to my gut, that I took her to someone else, and that I wasn't crazy.  I didn't want anything wrong with her, but it validated that it was SOMETHING, not NOTHING.

And now we can move forward.

My poor little bug.