Today I had to take my baby to the hospital to get her blood drawn. Although I chose to go to the hospital because the lab personnel are experienced drawing blood from babies, I felt anxious as I pushed her stroller through the doors of the hospital. I kept reminding myself she’s not sick, she just has a potentially fatal peanut allergy.
When I checked in at the desk, the receptionist asked curtly, without looking up,
“Date of birth?”
“January 17, 2007.”
She looked up when she realized I wasn’t the patient, and looked down at the stroller to see that my baby was.
“Oh.”
As I answered insurance questions, another employee came to the stroller and began smiling and talking to Turbo Tot. When I finished registering, this nice employee directed me where to go.
When I entered the room, the lab technician showed me where to sit and had me put Turbo Tot on my lap. Then she showed me how to restrain my baby. Next she rolled up my baby’s sleeve and began pressing on her arm to find the best vein. When she got out the needle, I looked away. When she stuck the needle in my baby’s arm, Turbo Tot began to writhe and lurch.
That’s when the tears came.
Mine, that is. While the tears streamed down my face, Turbo Tot just looked at the lab technician, after her initial attempts to free herself from my restraints.
The extremely proficient and sweet lab technician said,
“Wow! She didn’t even cry.”
Me, not so much.
As I walked past the nice employee who was playing with Turbo Tot earlier, she said, “It’s tough, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. She didn’t cry, but I did.”
I guess I’m the baby today.
Turbo Tot is the one with the cool rainbow band-aid who goes on a peanut parade.
