Stop This Train.

Babystar visited the Emergency Room this week.

She was scared but very brave and very very sweet.

Babystar just wanted to make sure that I would hold her the whole time at the doctor’s office. I promised that I would. We first went to Urgent Care because Babystar had not peed in twenty-four hours. And she had a fever for about half of that time. AND I gave her a choice of peeing or going to the doctor and she told me that she didn’t want to pee. So into the car we went.

Ok, technically she had not peed in twenty-three and a half hours, but Urgent Care closes at seven and the co-pay difference is $300. And since we just moved here, Babystar does not yet have a pediatrician. That changes today, by the way.

(Anyone in Boulder have a pediatrician recommendation pretty please?)

The doctors and nurses at Foothills ER were all very very nice but they definitely underestimated the strength of my little ToddlerMonster. Since she had not peed, there was concern of a possible UTI or other infection. Which meant they needed a urine sample. She is not potty-trained, and she was straight up refusing to pee, so they needed to do a baby catheter.

I wanted to cry but I was a brave strong mama. (We were there alone due to family logistical reasons.) And Babystar was on my lap because I PROMISED. (Well actually she was between my legs but she knew she was on mama’s lap so that’s all that mattered.)

Do you know that if you take a young child to the ER they basically put them in a straight jacket? They hold baby’s arms by his or her side and wrap a sheet around baby’s entire torso. MY baby was screaming and fighting this whole situation, and they wanted ME to hold her arms inside this torture device. MY sweet baby wiggled her arms up and out, but not to rip off the sheet or push away the nurses. She just wanted to hold my hands.

Things were not going as smoothly at the other end of the gurney. The nurses cleaned and prepped her but holding her down for the catheter was not working at all. Babystar is strong like mom, y’all. She has a shirt that says so and everything. They had to go get another nurse to help hold down my little thirty pound kicking machine.

They tried.

It didn’t matter in the end.

She. Peed. Everywhere.

I have never been so happy to be soaked in baby pee. (She was on my lap, remember?)

And for those med students following along, since she was prepped, she was clean. A quick thinking nurse collected a sample for testing. Actually, I think they managed to get two vials and they probably could have gotten twenty. There was SO. MUCH. PEE.

She even peed on her head. I didn’t know that she peed on her head, so when the nurses left and I was cleaning her and changing her clothes and giving her a million kisses, I kissed her head. Right on the pee. It was gross. I didn’t care.

Hashtag momlife, right?

I got to wear awesome blue paper scrubs and pretend to be J.D.

We waited around for about thirty more minutes and Babystar was pronounced bacteria-free.

BOOM. $350.

We have been talking a lot about the potty the last couple of weeks. Babystar will be three in June, and she is showing all the textbooks signs that she is ready for the potty. She knows when she is peeing or pooping in her diaper (because she always tells me right before it happens so I can be ready to change her because “remember that time I had a rash and it hurt?”) She hasn’t had a wet diaper overnight in almost a year. She has the ability to hold it. Obviously. And she actually DID pee in the potty about two weeks ago. We made her a chart with stickers and did the pee pee dance and she got some chocolate candies and we did ALL THE THINGS.

But she hates it. She doesn’t want to use the potty and she tells us all the time. So I told her we would stop. And that while she was sick, she could have m&m’s every time she pees in her diaper. My sweet funny Babystar got so excited and said, “we don’t have to go on the potty train anymore?”

Did I just push her potty training back to age four? Probably.

Will she go to college in diapers? Maybe.

Am I the worst mom in the world? Nah.