A Parent's Worst Nightmare

I have a confession to make. I’ve not always been the type of mother I am now. I used to be happier, more carefree, and more easygoing than I am. Now I am self-conscious, safety conscious, and not as joyful as I used to be.

What could change someone so much? I will tell you, but first, you must understand. The incident is the hardest thing I’ve ever written about or talked about. My husband and I even have a hard time talking about it still to this day. But first, I must give you a little background on everything to give you an idea about how much this truly affected me.

My husband and I met in 1994 when I was 19 years old. We had our first beautiful daughter in 1999. Then in 2004, I suffered through an ectopic pregnancy; I was four months along, and it almost killed me. The doctor told me I had less than a 20% chance of ever getting pregnant again. He even told me it was a miracle my husband and I had our first child. This news was depressing, as I came from a large family and wanted more children. I just spent more time with my daughter and decided since she would be my only one, I’d spoil her rotten with attention.

Then in 2007, my miracle baby arrived. Perfectly angry and very lazy, She was the most precious baby in the world. She grew fast, learned faster, and loved hard. Her eyelashes brushed her forehead. She was just gorgeous.

Then, in early 2009, tragedy struck our family. Our beautiful baby became lazy and whiny. She only wanted me. We had her in and out of her doctor’s office and the hospital for two months, trying to find out what was wrong with her.

One day, at the WIC office, They did a hematocrit test on her, and her levels were at a four. I immediately called her doctor and talked to him. We took her in for more tests. Nothing was definite. We took her home. At this point, I was getting desperate. My child had gotten to where she wouldn’t eat unless I fed her by hand. She didn’t want to drink. Playing was not happening in our house. We had become a family waiting for the worst but praying hard for the best.

Then came the day I found the bruising. It started on her upper thighs and was small; within 45 minutes, the bruises were the size of grapefruits. Plus, she had more bruising come up on her calves and arms.

So I rushed her to the hospital her doctor was affiliated with and even asked them to call him. They never did. They only did a rape test on my little girl, wrote in her file that she was an abused kid, and noted that they would turn the case over to CPS. They kept her all night and never even gave her a Tylenol for the pain.

The only reason her doctor found out she was in the hospital was my husband looked his number up in the phone book and called his house at 4 AM to let him know our baby was sick. Her doctor immediately headed in to check on her. Once there, he immediately arranged transportation to the children’s hospital in Memphis, so we could find out what was wrong before it killed her. He also gave her Tylenol for the pain.

Once in Memphis, the hospital staff got us right in, and she was in a room within 2 hours. She was assigned two German doctors from neighboring St Judes, who told me that they knew this was not a child abuse case and would find out what was wrong with my baby. The statement, of course, blew my mind because I didn’t even know that the hospital had added that note to the front of her case file, not when I knew her private doctor had already put notations in her file for her to be transferred immediately to Memphis for diagnosis if she was admitted into the ER, an entire month before.

While in there, only one doctor said anything about it possibly being child abuse. Once I told the case worker in the hospital what was said to me, I never saw that doctor again. The hospital removed her from his rotation. The rest of the staff was extremely friendly, helpful, and caring.

She was in there for just under two weeks. They diagnosed her with a blood disorder called Antiphospholipid antibody syndrome (APS). I spent four days learning to give her Lovenox (blood thinner) shots. Then the hospital finally released her to go home.

APS is caused by the body's immune system producing abnormal antibodies called antiphospholipid antibodies. This increases the risk of blood clots developing in the blood vessels, which can lead to serious health problems, such as: DVT (deep vein thrombosis) stroke. heart attack. According to the NHS.

We spent the next eight months giving her shots. To be honest, I was a walking robot. I’d almost completely shut down at this point. I got up and cared for my daughters and husband, but I put my emotions on hold. I put on a smiling face and did what needed doing. CPS made a trip to our house to discuss the case with us. Fortunately, they agreed with the doctors that this was just a medical case. Thankfully, we don’t have that hanging over our heads.

Our daughter did get better. We put as much behind us as possible and never discussed it again. We just bottled up all that pain instead of talking it out.

Eventually, that bottled pain started poisoning my husband and my relationship. Until we talked about it over the last couple of years, that is another story that I am not ready to share.

But the pain of that year will forever stain my heart. The pain my child went through will forever sear my soul. I worry more. It’s caused anxiety attacks. It’s been rocky at times.

But the light of my life, my youngest, is still here today. She bears scars where the worst of the bruising was and where the I.V. backed up in her arm and caused it to swell up to the size of her leg. She’s the brightest, happiest young lady now.