As I mentioned here, we had a little bit of a scare from Hannah last week. But she’s on the mend and we’re so happy with her doctor who has been thorough, helpful and will continue to see her every other day for the next few weeks.
Last Tuesday, when she came home with the rash, I immediately called the doctor because I knew it was something that needed to be looked at. And I was glad that I did. The doctor wanted a urine sample from Hannah right then and a blood test the following morning. She handed me the little cup and sent us into the WC. (That means Water Closet. That’s what they call restrooms here.)
Hannah tried her best, bless her heart, but just couldn’t produce a sample. So the doctor sent us home with the cup and told me it would be easier to get a sample at home and to take it to the hospital with us in the morning when we go for the blood test.
The next morning, we arrived at the hospital at 8AM. This is where I’ll tell you how brave and grown up Hannah was. She got right up on the table, laid down and let the nurse draw her blood. She was a little confused at the term “draw your blood,” though. We got it straightened out and assured her that no one would be drawing anything with her blood. (Also, if anyone’s keeping count, this is the second time since living in Luxembourg that I’ve driven around town with a urine sample in my purse.)
The doctor called me a few hours later and said the blood work was normal and wanted to see us again Thursday morning. So Thursday morning we arrived back at the dr. office, water bottle in hand, because there would be another urine sample required. And yet again, no luck.
So we sat in the waiting room, Hannah guzzling water and me coaxing her along.
We went back to the WC, where there’s only one toilet and tried again. I left the stall door open because Finley was in his stroller and it wouldn’t fit in there with us.
A pregnant lady came into the bathroom and struck up a conversation with me.
”Cest un garcon?” Is it a boy?
“Combien de mois?” How many months?
Wait that’s not right…
Then she asked me something that I didn’t recognize so I asked her to say it again, slower.
When I told her that I don’t know that word, she grabbed her right breast, shook it in my general direction and pointed at Finn.
”Oui,” I answered. Apparently that’s the universally recognized sign for are you breast feeding?
And then I realized that she either didn’t speak English or she didn’t detect my American accent. (That last part was a joke because even Americans can detect my American accent.) It dawned on me that she was about six months pregnant and there was only one stall in the Water Closet. I told Hannah that this lady needed the toilet more than we did.
So we waited in front of the sink where I turned the cold water on and ran Hannah’s hands under it, hoping that would help things along.
When the French speaking pregnant woman was finished, we went back into the stall.
”I think I’m ready to give it a go,” Hannah told me.
A minute later the French speaking pregnant woman returned to the Water Closet, only this time she had a little boy with her.
She told me he was her second son and she was due with her third in three months. My head was whipping back and forth between Hannah, who I was desperately trying to get to go in the little cup and the French speaking pregnant woman, and my mind was getting cluttered because PLEASE JUST GO IN THE LITTLE CUP and I can’t translate all this French.
Then she and the little boy poked their heads into Finley’s stroller and she stated telling him to look at the baby, and isn’t the baby little and we’re having a baby like this soon and you have to be gentle with the baby.
This is the part where I nearly needed a nerve pill because it’s about 140 degrees and THERE’S NO AIR CONDITIONING IN LUXEMBOURG and the French speaking pregnant woman and her toddler have started touching Finley’s face. Did I mention that I’m also squatting next to a toilet, holding a tiny cup under a five year old trying to get a sample?
And why do people think it’s okay to touch babies’ faces?
Please, don’t touch other people’s baby’s faces.
I told Hannah that we’d go back to the waiting room and drink some more water. Just about this time Finley started to get hungry because OF COURSE. Now listen. I’m not good at public breast feeding. I’m just not. Not even in Europe where it’s no big deal.
So I took him out of the stroller and got us situated so that I could discretely nurse him. I sort of hid behind the stroller and put a blanket over my shoulder but I have no idea why because remember, 140 DEGREES and we were the only ones in the waiting room. Hannah was next to me sipping away on her water and we were in business.
Here comes French speaking pregnant lady.
She sits down right next to me and starts tickling Finn’s feet. Tickling his feet. While I’m feeding him!
French speaking pregnant lady LIFTS THE BLANKET OFF OF HIS HEAD AND STARTS RUBBING HIS CHEEK.
WHILE I’M NURSING HIM.
”Coucou! Coucou!” she keeps saying. (This is kind of like an informal greeting that you might say to a child.)
If I nearly needed a nerve pill a few minutes ago, I most certainly needed one now.
The dr. finally called her in and Finley finished eating, but no luck on the sample so we left. The dr. said that since it was the last day of school, Hannah could go for a few hours but no running, no horseplay and she had to sit still and quiet.
Wouldn’t you know that on the way to school she had to go to the bathroom so bad we barely made it? But I got the sample, put it in a plastic bag, washed my hands and put it in my purse. (This makes the third time since I’ve lived in Luxembourg that I’ve carried a urine sample in my purse.)
We had an appointment Friday evening and another on Monday. Things are still looking the same, slight improvements and no worry of kidney damage. I will tell you, however, that at one point during the weekend Hannah had a bloody nose while simultaneously vomiting. This was just after Finley spit up down the front of my shirt. Motherhood is so glamorous.
We tuned in to a live stream outside of the hospital, waiting for news that the baby had been born.
Pretty much all day it was security guards standing around looking bored, but every once in a while, the camera would pan out and then zoom in dramatically and we’d get excited thinking that someone was about to burst through the doors with the royal announcement.
When they finally made the announcement later that evening, Hannah was long asleep so I watched the coverage by myself. I got a little nostalgic because just four months ago, Shawn and I brought our baby boy home from the hospital, although I assure you I didn’t look as stunning as Kate and the only adoring fan I had waiting for me was a five year old little girl. I can’t wait to hear what they name him.
Anyway, it’s now Wednesday afternoon and we’re just about to leave for another doctor appointment.
Oh, and guess what I have in my purse?