Day one with Maddy, the first 24 hours, were mostly spent on a runaway train headed south, taking in a mountain of medical suspicions while waiting for "the expert" to come give us the supremely bad news about her CAT scan. That conversation happened right around her 24 hour mark. In the meantime, we sat with her, took in the information that her corneas were clouded over, that the cute cross-legged thing she was doing was actually a sign of nervous system damage, that unbelievably, this perfect looking child hosted a slew of irreparable problems. Because they didn't know exactly the extent of her issues, the reigning theory during the first 24 was that this was all due an infection in utero. I was quizzed every time I set foot in the NICU, "did you ever have a fever during your pregnancy? feel badly? sneeze? YOU HAVE CATS???!!!" and on and on with the guilt. I never felt so guilty in my life, the doctors apparently not realizing that simple sentences like "what seems to be a common cold for you can really be lethal to your baby" while glancing askance at the huddled motionless mass that was my daughter are not what a mother needs to hear in those situations. My blood was drawn for a host of infections, from the mundane to the odd, as was hers. By tomorrow it would be moot.
