Now that Mamie is just about over her cold (I have it now. I sound like a cross between Suzanne Pleshette, Maude and the teacher from Charlie Brown) it was time to take her for her two year check-up. The not-so-fun thing about living in New York State is that at the one-year and two-year intervals, your baby needs to have a blood test to check lead levels. And it's a real blood test, a vial or two, not just a pinprick. Last year, they drew from her finger while she bawled so loud and furious that her face broke out into insta-hives (mine too, actually.) Then two weeks later she had to be tested again, in her arm this time, because she has a milk protein allergy. Since then, going to the doctor is a scream fest for her, and for the people in a 2-mile radius. She. Is. LOUD.
Today we saw a new doctor, a nice Orthodox woman whose wig was slightly askew. Mamie loved her and got through the entire check-up without crying, which is a first. She let the doctor look in her ears, eyes, and even her mouth where the sprouting molars are staking themselves out, painfully. Next it was time for the blood draw. I left the room like the true coward I am. (You should have seen me when I was pregnant. When the doctor asked me if I wanted a mirror to watch the birth, I told him to please hide my glasses because there was no way I wanted to see anything. I knew what was going to happen. I understood the process. No visuals needed, thanks!) Anyway, today I hid in the waiting area when it was time for the blood-letting. Doug is a lot braver than me and so he held Mamie in his lap while I paced nervously in front of brand new parents who looked at me with alarm. Last year during this process, I put my head in my hands and cried with her (in spirit) in the coat closet but today, I didn't have to. Mamie soldiered through the three vials of blood and only cried when it was over and they were trying to put the bandaid on her. She wanted Dora and all they had was Barbie. I'd cry too.
We'll know Monday if she outgrew her milk allergy. If so, then this is the end of blood tests for a long while. If not, she gets to do this every six months until we get a clear signal. Interestingly enough, the doctor told us that blood tests aren't all that accurate, and that we'd most likely have to do trial and error with foods anyway. So if we get the all-clear, next week it's cheese! I know that sounds banal, but Mamie has never had it. Nor ice cream. Or anything deliciously dairy. She doesn't seem to mind for now because she doesn't know what she's missing. I made her cupcakes without milk for her birthday and she couldn't be less interested in them. But I'm thinking that will all change when we get the go-ahead for chocolate though.
She's out with her Pops now, her little arm bruised from the inexperienced nurse who couldn't find her vein. But she's in good spirits. After these past few weeks, she deserves some fun. And hopefully soon, some pizza!
