My sweet boy gave his Mama a huge scare yesterday. Part of the difficulty of being a baby is the inability to communicate to your Mama. You can't tell her your tummy hurts or that you are tired and need a nap. You can't say that you have a poopy diaper and that you would like a clean one, please. And most of all you can't tell her that a wasp has gotten ahold of you and that dammit, it hurts.
Yesterday as we were leaving for our day, River suddenly screamed and caused me enough alarm to rush in immediately to see what was up. His hands were swollen and red and I couldn't figure out why. I consoled him and ended up taking him to the sitter hoping Children's Mercy advice line would ease my mind by the time I got to work. This did not happen. In fact, they called me (once I was in another county) to tell me they thought I should take him to the ER immediately. I got to work, found a sub, and headed out the door.
After a long wait and a skeptical doctor, I found out that he reacted to something but we were unclear as to what it was. I got home, dug around where he was for any allergen-rich items and found a wasp right where he was. We quickly summed up that he probably had been stung or had some kind of contact with the venom and that he is allergic. Great.
I wish he could've told me what was wrong. I wish I would've looked around harder when it happened. I
wish he wasn't allergic to stings, because what a bummer that is going to be in his life.
The good news is, the swelling is gone. My baby is happy and at least we know what happened. And that's what really matters.