Betadine & Band-aids

Perhaps the worst pain a mother can experience is having to watch as their four month old is treated as a pin coushin.

Jonas hasn't been well since Christmas. First it seemed like the same old stomach bug that had the rest of the family bed-ridden and moaning, then it evolved into something resembling teething and erupted into emergency room warranted fever last night.

By the time we made it to the pediatricians office this morning he had spiked dangerously to just shy of 104 degrees. His little head felt like it contained a blazing furnace. And when he cried the agony in his little wail was enough to break even the coldest of hearts.

We are fortunate to have a very good pediatrician. She has spared no expense when treating and diagnosing my son througout all of his varied complications. Today was no different. Of course, sparing no expense also means a barrage of tests that usually involve subjecting him to ungodly sorts of pain.

Holding him there as a team of three nurses searched every inch of his tiny naked body for a decent vein was just about enough to send me over the edge. Five pokes, and a catheter later they had the necessary specimines, but still no diagnosis other than an elevated white cell count and a urinary tract infection.

There are two words that no parent ever wants to hear: Spinal Tap. Can this really be so serious? Couldn't it just be a little virus or something? Is it possible that my sweet little boy could have meningitis?

Yes, it's possible, but not likely.

We're waiting on the blood cultures before taking that step.

The nurse returns with an antibiotic injection. Jonas, completely exhausted from the fever and the physical battering he has just been subjected to, prompty falls asleep. We discuss the fact that UTI's in male babies are extremely rare, and they don't really know what's caused it. There's a possibility that his kidneys are affected, that urine is backflowing from his bladder.

My world goes hazy. This is all too familiar. I can't help but be terrified that my son will face a life of agonizing kidney problems. And while I know that my problems are not hereditary, I can't help but feel like this is something caused in utero by my own renal insufficiency. I suppose all parents go through the guilt of thinking they've done something wrong when faced with a seriously ill child.

And the words of one man ring inside my head: "You were never meant to have his child."