If only I could...

I have spent the last 24 hours in a hospital room with my 7 year old desperately wanting to see her kidney infection clear and the vomiting to stop. Strange things happen to you in hospital rooms. Even more so when the patient is not you, but one of the people you love the most in this world.


Last fall, I had a cancer scare. For 6 weeks we didn't know if I had what I had been dreading since I was 20 - breast cancer. We didn't know. During those 6 weeks, some wonderful things happened in my heart. When we see the reality of our mortality right in front of us through doctor appointments and lab reports, a wonderful clarifying effect happens. Like the cream that rises to the top of fresh milk, the things that are of great value to us rise to the front of our minds and hearts.


But when it is your child....


Cosette was diagnosed with renal reflux a year and a half ago. I had never heard of it until one of our pediatricians wanted to test for it after Cosette had had a few urinary infections. He scared me that day in his office of how serious it could be if this goes untreated and undiagnosed. Her kidneys could fail, he told me.


Wait... what just happened? When did she get so sick? What didn't I do? How did this happen?


We began treatment and had one horrible test that no one, especially a 6 year old girl, should have to go through and sure enough she was diagnosed with renal reflux - grade 2, bilaterally.

OK, here we go....


Grade 2 is actually a good prognosis. If it goes to grade 4 or 5 which is the highest grade, it can be very very serious. She may actually outgrow the condition, our urologist said.


For over a year and a half, she was infection free. Until last Sunday....

Her fever spiked Sunday night and when it does, I have to rule out a kidney infection first. So Monday morning we were in our pediatricians office. Yes, she has an infection. Followup with the urologist, we were told. Cosette then began throwing up everything, including her antibiotic and the stakes began to get higher. The next thing I know, we are in Sunrise Children's Hospital ER.

Now it begins...

Because she was so dehydrated it took 5 different needle pokes and 5 different sites to get the IV started. After the 3rd stick, I asked if we could give her some miracle nausea medicine to stop the vomiting, get her to drink lots of fluids and then give her the antibiotic orally. But she's SO dehydrated, they said. She really needs the IV. Ok...

I almost suggested if I could give them my arm instead....

And that's where my heart ended up during those 24 hours in the hospital. Wishing I could substitute myself for her. If somehow I could take her place. Absorb her pain. Endure her fever and run her risks of kidney problems. Let me take her place...

After the 4th stick was unsuccessful, I muttered, "damn it" and I probably would have said more if my daughter wasn't sitting there. They finally got it in and here was the amazing part. My daughter who is terrified of shots at the doctors, didn't cry... just sat there...with more bravery than I knew she had and endured the pain. Every time I watched her big light brown eyes get bigger when she was stuck yet she uttered not a word. I was more and more proud of her. And even more I wanted to switch places with her.

We then spent the next 24 hours eating hospital food, playing Yahtzee, watching High School Musical 2 with her in her hospital jammies and me shower less and trying to comfort her anxiety of what was happening to her. She continually reached for my hand with one arm and with the other we watched the antibiotics and fluid rehydrate and heal her little body through little tubes. When resident after resident doctor came in, she answered their questions and smiled. She looked too vulnerable in that hospital bed all hooked up and little.

And when I thought she was immune to all the fear, and after she bravely endured the last test, it was just her and me. She finally began to cry and said, "Mommy, I want to go home now." So I held her and fortunately we were released shortly thereafter.

She still has the kidney reflux and it doesn't look like she's going to outgrow it. So there will be more tests. More pokes. Possibly a surgery. More bravery.

If only I could take her place...

But I can't and so I'm left with this impossible love found in every mom. I have to let her go through life with all it's ups and downs, heartaches and joys, pains and pleasures. And she'll grow and become more beautiful. We both will discover the character within her we won't know she had. She'll light this world for good. I've been given the front row seat of watching her, cheering her on, picking up the pieces and helping her be the girl, young lady and woman God has created her to be.

So much. And she's only 7.