At 12:30 today I got heard the diagnosis that I thought surely I would not hear.
How could I have been so wrong? The guilt is wrapping itself around my heart and squeezing until I almost cannot breathe. I'm the mother. I'm supposed to KNOW these things about my child.
I feel so melodramatic on top of guilty. The guilt is making things razor sharp. Every raindrop feels like a pin prick. Every light seems a thousand times too bright. Every noise vibrates painfully inside my skull.
Today, M had her VCUG. I can not tell you how many people I told I was having the test run to satisfy the doctors. "She does NOT have kidney reflux," I told a million people. "I would know. I mean, she was 2 1/2 before she had her first UTI."
My stomach is still lying on that radiology floor where I heard the news. I wanted to pick M up and run far away from there. I wanted to whisper in her ear how very, very sorry I am that I didn't think she had it. That I've put the test off for so long. That if only I'd had the test done sooner, she wouldn't have had her UTI in October. I'm so sorry, sweet girl. Mommy was so wrong.
My reaction is bigger than the actual problem. We are waiting to hear from the pediatrician, who will send us to a pediatric urologist. We happen to be going to the big city next Tuesday to see M's orthopedist, so I am hopeful we can see the urologist that morning. I don't know if it will happen, but I am hopeful.
The first treatment (and perhaps the only treatment) is antibiotics. They will keep the bacteria from growing as the urine is returned to the kidneys from the bladder. Kidney reflux is a condition that most little girls outgrow.
I am so glad I requested (maybe even demanded) sedation for this test. Even in a sedated state, M fought that catherization with every cell in her body. It took several tries to get it done so they could even begin the test. The radiology lady who was doing the test looked up and said, "I am so glad she's sedated. I can't imagine trying this if she was conscious!"
I'm going to quiet my guilt, send it back to the closet where Mommy Guilt lingers, waiting to rear its ugly head.
And then I'm going to get on the phone to make appointments for my sweet little girl.