A happy-sad post

We went to the Minneapolis Children's Hospital this morning (*early* this morning) for an ultrasound for Hafsa. Her kidneys and abdomen need to be checked regularly and I am happy that today's check-up went just fine, alhamdulillah. Keeping her still for the ultrasound was no small feat and she's still not too keen on doctors, but I guess they are used to having kids *scream* their heads off at them. Our pediatric urologist, Dr. V., is a smooth dude, the Enrique Suave of urologists. The kind that makes you wait an hour and then swoops in with so much charm that all is forgiven instantaneously. Of course doctors bringing GOOD news are forgiven just about anything in my book.

Going to the children's hospital (any of them, I think we've been to 3 here so far) is quite an experience. There's no such thing as a routine check-up to us - once you've had unexpected bad news delivered to you, particularly about your child, you see the possibility for more bad news around every corner. So I dread these appointments, no matter how ordinary they might be.

So I usually enter the hospital with a knotted stomach and not a little worry. It doesn't help that the technician who takes the ultrasound pictures isn't allowed to share any diagnosis with you, so each comment ignites a flurry of speculation. "All the black area on the screen is liquid". Is that good? Is there too much liquid in there? Maybe that's bad... Before you know it you've devised a worse-case scenario despite having no medical knowledge at all. You have to wait until you meet with your doctor before he or she tells you what is really happening. This can be stressful.

However, it doesn't take long in a hospital waiting room to change your perspective. The children... some of them are so sick. Many of them have more challenges in their short lives than you and I will endure in the entirety of ours. Their suffering, and more so their courage, really overwhelms me. And then I see their parents which is almost worse - what each one of them wouldn't give to live the suffering of their children so they wouldn't have to? So why do I worry about small things? or get mad or frustrated when I have so little to complain about?

I'm not trying to depress anyone (really) but I guess I'm just relieved that Hafsa is doing well and Maymuna is doing well, thank God. I'm probably going to enter many, many more hospitals and I'll learn this lesson over and over again, but I hope I can live it in my everyday life and be a better mother, and not forget - I am very grateful for what I have and I will hold my babies tight tonight.