I haven’t posted in a while, but…I have a good excuse, I really do! A month ago, E got a diaper rash out of nowhere that went from nothing at all to broken, bleeding skin in less than a day. It was so bad that she began to hold her poop, which in turn made her severely constipated, and suppositories and enemas only made it worse.
Over the course of three weeks, we saw two doctors at her normal clinic a total of four times, and we also had one trip to urgent care for the constipation. No matter what we tried, nothing was touching the rash and baby girl was beyond miserable. The rash wasn’t spreading but it was as red as a tomato and inflamed, bleeding, and angry. I couldn’t blame her for holding in her poop—it had to have been so painful.
First the doctors treated it for yeast, even though they admitted it looked nothing like a yeast rash. They ran a culture for strep and it came back negative, but they prescribed an antibacterial ointment anyhow. The ointment stopped the rash from getting worse, but we didn’t see any improvement. E’s regular pediatrician then prescribed amoxicillin, claiming the rash appeared to be bacterial and that she needed an oral antibiotic in order to kick it.
After the third week of no improvement, we finally sought out a second opinion. The doctor we saw agreed it looked like a bacterial infection, but he was confused about why she was on amoxicillin. He said you have to treat perianal bacterial infections with a different type of antibiotic. He prescribed a new one and the morning after her first dose, her rash was 75% gone.
What the actual fuck was her primary care doctor doing?
E was back to normal in just a couple of days, after almost a month-long battle with the diaper rash from hell. We’ve officially ditched her original pediatrician and made the “second opinion” doctor her new PCP.
So anyway, during this whole battle I found myself emotionally drained every night. I spent hours reading about what could possibly be going on with E. Now that things have calmed down, I’m a bit mad at myself for neglecting my blog.
E turned nine months old last week. She’s constantly on the move around the house and she’s started to climb things and pull herself up on things—drawers, her crib, her toys. She still hasn’t grasped the concept of cruising along the furniture or even walking while we hold onto her hands, but she’ll get there. In the meantime, she almost never sits still from crawling so much and gets into everything she’s not supposed to.
E is babbling a lot and very clearly says “mama,” “dada,” and “hi,” but I’m not counting any of them as her first word because I don’t know if it’s just coincidence or if she truly knows what she’s saying. I’m honestly starting to wonder how the hell any parent actually knows when their baby says his or her first REAL word.
Separation and stranger anxiety are in full effect and to top it off, E is going through a mommy phase right now. If I’m in the room I have to be the one holding her. She cries if it’s daddy, she cries if it’s grandma, and she loses her mind if it’s anyone else. As soon as I take her, she calms right down and starts to dance out of excitement. Part of me secretly enjoys it, but I do feel a little pang of guilt whenever she refuses to let her daddy hold her.
Last thoughts for this post: to all the parents that always warned me how much the time change sucks when you have kids, I GET IT NOW. UGH. I honestly never guessed one measly hour would throw off my baby’s schedule so much. *tears* *sips wine*