Bab's problem

Here was the plan: I would feed the Boy, then me, then my girls. But before I fed the boy, I left his room to do something (throw out a diaper?), which was when Babs ran out of the play tent crying, and told me:

"We have a problem! I swallowed some money!" Knowing that she sometimes puts coins in her mouth I asked the obvious follow-up, "Was it brown or silver?" "Silver," she replied, and threw up all over the floor. Then she threw up again. I walked her to the bathroom, trying to mentally triage. Clean up the mess? tend to the baby? call the doctor? A third throw-up with no coin made the decision for me. Text my nurse sister-in-law, and call the doctor. The doctor's office told me an x-ray was in order, come as soon as possible. A brief phone call to my good friend around the corner (Babs has swallowed a dime! Send one of your daughters, now!) followed.

As soon as Babs stopped throwing up, I left her standing in the bathroom (because I figured more was coming) watching a show on my iPhone, while I went to feed the Boy. I left Kiddo with important instructions, "When the babysitter knocks on the door, let her in. If it's not her, shut the door as fast as you can." She arrived, I left the Boy and Kiddo with her, and was on my way. (I also called my husband. "Come home now." I am deeply grateful that he has a job where this is possible.) 

As time elapsed, the discomfort grew on Babs, so I started carrying her. It hurt to swallow, so she was producing enormous amounts of spit, that were left on floors, on my shoulder, down my back, etc. She looked so incredibly small as the x-ray was taken. She felt pretty small as we gently rocked while we were waiting for the films. While the initial instructions from the doctor's office were to go home after the x-rays, then call in about an hour, the technician told me to go right back to the doctor's office. I looked at the films in the car. There was a huge spot in her throat. This was no dime.

Bab's xray, pic taken in the car

The physician's assistant told me I needed to get her to a pediatric emergency room, so take her to Baltimore. I sighed, said I'd go home, figure out what to do with the kids, and be on my way. "You need to go soon," she quietly insisted. "Yeah," I replied, "but I also have two other children, one whom is still dependent on me." I called my husband, told him to pack the diaper bag, grab my phone charger, and call another friend to watch Kiddo for some indeterminate amount of time. We dropped her off (I took her to the door and looked at my friend. I said "I don't know when we'll be back," and she just told me not to worry). Then the other four of us drove to Baltimore.

After parking we walked forever, then finally found the pediatric emergency room, where they checked us in. We told the story again and again: She swallowed a coin, around noon. She's 3. She's breathing fine. She won't talk any more, but we're not sure if she can't or she won't. She's very drool-y. Here is an x-ray.

Before surgery, not happy, not swallowing

They took another x-ray, whatever it was was not moving. So they took her upstairs for surgery. They knocked her out, then scooped out the coin, then woke her up again. It's so simple to say, it was so awful to experience. The doctor, a very calm man, who had clearly done this procedure many times (apparently she was the third one to come in during the last 24 hours), brought us out the quarter. He told us that it's not common for someone so little to be able to get such a big coin down. I figure he doesn't know the determination of our little girl.

After, clearly all is better.

When she woke up, it was clear that everything was back to normal. I hadn't heard her speak for hours, now she wouldn't stop. She picked stickers, ate popsicles, pointed out her fancy light-up bandaid (oxygen/pulse monitor), and was fine. We heaved a sigh of relief, said a prayer of gratitude in our hearts, and went home.

I'm so grateful she's fine. I'm grateful that a good pediatric hospital is 25 minutes from my door. I'm grateful that she always could breathe. I'm grateful for friends who helped with the other two kids, and those kids' patience with the crazy day. I'm grateful for health insurance, and my husband's job that provides the insurance, and lets him come home so we can use it. I'm grateful for doctors who know what they're doing, and nurses, and how friendly and caring they all genuinely seemed. As good as the hospital experience was, I'm grateful it only lasted four hours. I'm grateful for my pediatrician, who was out of the office for all the fun, but when she went in the next day, saw the x-ray order, and called me to see how things were. I'm grateful for Babs, who makes me smile every day.