My Little Piggy Bank II

Merritt and his "Moby"

Another thing I would have done differently last Thursday was choose more carefully what I stuffed down my gullet. As a rule I don't eat hot dogs unless they are cooked over a camp fire or I am fed one as a guest. To have to admit that the last thing I ate before I didn't eat for 18 more hours was a hot dog is almost my undoing. My mother would also be aghast to know Matt's supper at around 11:30 P.M. consisted of a vending machine bag of peanuts, the lowest of low class foods in her opinion.

"So what makes you think he may have swallowed a penny?"

This was an oft repeated phrase favored by most of the numerous medical workers with whom we came into contact last Thursday. My 8 month old was screaming and arching his back from the wrap I had him strapped to my chest with to keep him in an upright position which I hoped would preserve his airway. He remained there for the next 7 or so hours with the exception of the second ambulance ride and two separate sets of x-rays.

We were enjoying our week camping in my parents yard while Breadwinner roofed in a nearby town. We had just returned from a Gator ride in the pasture and my mom and I were making dinner. We were preparing to grill steak and I was sauteing zucchini. The kids were all in the adjoining room. The three oldest were engrossed in the books my mother, the librarian, had checked out at her library for them. The baby was practicing sitting up in the middle of the area rug upon which I had done continuous sweeps throughout the day for foreign objects. Usually at home one of the three older kids sits with him when he is on the floor to monitor his surroundings for possible conflict. His Secret Service as it were. Being out of our element and with me in the immediate vicinity, protocol was breached. The two youngest were sitting with baby and Mitch, as is typical, hugged him to the ground. I looked over and began moving toward him, as is a mother's instinct, as I heard him choke. It seemed at first he couldn't breath, but when I got him upright he began to wail. He gagged and spit up, which is not uncommon with him. Merritt is our happiest baby to date, so when he persisted in crying I hypothesized that perhaps Mitch had put too much weight on him and he was simply upset. My first line of defense is always to nurse my distressed infants. Eating makes everything better for me and it most often fixes my babys' woes as well. He refused to nurse and when I lowered him horizontally he seemed to have trouble breathing. It was about this time that I noticed Maielle had a handful of pennies. She was whining for me to pick her up as well. In retrospect she knew she had screwed up and was upset about it. It was obvious by this time that Merritt wasn't swallowing his saliva. I decided I needed procure medical opinion for him even though he was breathing well enough to keep screaming.

I decided to go to the convenient care clinic because there was really no evident emergent situation. I was hopeful they would simply send me home telling me there was nothing wrong but an over reactive mother. I went to get my Moby type wrap to keep him in an upright position. He rode this way as my dad drove us the 12 or so miles to the clinic. My dad is strictly a speed limit driver. That he was driving 60mph was not lost on me, although at one point I calmly asked him to speed up because I thought Merritt's breathing was getting a bit labored so he uncharacteristically further broke the speed limit!

Matt met us at the clinic from his job site and he had explained what was going on so they were ready to see us. They doctor wasted no time by even looking in his throat before she had us in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. I had graduated high school from a class of 26 with one of the paramedics. His familiar face was a blessing from the Lord and he let me keep the baby in the wrap and not put him on the gurney. I was pretty adamant about keeping baby upright and he must have agreed with me.

At the hospital they wanted to weigh him but not enough to cross me about taking him out of the wrap. I saw myself during Merritt's surgery in a wall of mirrors and was glad I didn't know earlier that my appearance was so tough. I make a concerted effort not to go even to Wal Mart without making myself presentable. (This isn't out of vanity, but because I feel we are ambassadors on so many fronts. We have a bunch of little kids, haul them around in a 15 passenger van, we're Christians, home schoolers, and we are self-employed.) and I had been out working in my folk's garden forking in manure with a bandanna tied around my head. Matt was also a good example of ER fashion. Not many folks have time to get cleaned up before they find themselves in need of ER services. (Our pastor and his wife being the exception of the evening. He took a shower and still made it to the hospital to pray with us in record time!)

I was praying and singing to Merritt, "God is so good", as he continued to wail and arch his back. He held his arms out to Matt a couple times and I handed him over. When he realized Daddy couldn't make him feel better either he wanted Mommy back. I was thankful Merritt is so used to being wrapped. It was a familiar place for him to be and something we could do for him to help ease him in his pain.

Finally an x-ray was performed which confirmed the penny in his throat. It was lodged sideways a little lower than his trachea. The hospital was not prepared with small enough equipment and expertise to remove the offending coin. They decided the best thing would be to air lift him to another hospital. I asked Matt to call my ladies' Bible study group, who were in session, to pray. Some time passed and we met the flight crew and then doctors decided Merritt was stable enough to go by ambulance. What an answer to prayer! I rode in back with Matt up front- we were very thankful! We could feel the prayers. Merritt did have to be strapped down, but I sat next to him and wrapped him in his blankie.

A nurse had to ride along with the paramedic in the ambulance, having been hand picked and given special instructions on procedure according to problems that may arise. She was pregnant with her third baby in three years, lived on a farm, and was interested in home schooling. The Lord provided me with much diversionary conversation! Merritt fought sleep, but he eventually fell asleep in his upright position.
At the final hospital he had more x-rays and we waited. They had to decide which specialty, ENT or GI, would handle the operation and assemble the teams. When the doctor met with us to explain the procedure and ask if we had an questions my one request was that I get the penny. When he replied that he didn't think that would be possible I politely informed him that if he couldn't get me "the" penny just get me "a" penny and I would never know the difference. I'm pretty sure I needed something to eat...

At around 1:30 A.M. we handed our baby over to the anesthesiologist and the lack of his 20.5 lbs form in my arms had never weighed heavier. My mom had packed a bag that my in-laws had delivered to the first hospital. It included, probably most importantly, Merritt's blankie and also my Bible. I couldn't help but think of Mom sitting in this same hospital 16 years previous waiting for her baby to have an object removed from his throat and knowing what I would need.

In the fog of fatigue my autopilot turned to the book of Psalms. My Bible automatically opens to chapter 139 and I found comfort in verses 13-18 as I prayed for my baby.

"For you formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother's womb.

I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well.

My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.

Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written.

How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them!

If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand; When I awake, I am still with You."

When the doctor strode toward us with a smile on his face and a specimen cup containing a copper colored disc I truly felt the Lord's mercy. In recovery the anesthesiologist said children have such strong circadian rhythms that Merritt would most likely sleep the rest of the night. Hearing this I knew he would awake shortly as he never misses his mid-night snack. He awoke with a smile on his face and proceeded to "talk" to us. He has no ill effects and needs no follow up doctor visits. What a mighty God we serve!

So, I guess the answer to my question should have been the Lord made me with a brain designed especially to know when something isn't right with my child. It was only by His mercy that I had the urging to get help.