We're off to see the Pediatric Cardiologist tomorrow morning for Princess Trouble's supposed heart murmur. I've been tellling myself that I'm not worried, that it's most likely nothing serious and that it will be a short visit and all will be well.
So why am I still up at almost midnight, trying like crazy NOT to glance at the clock and mentally assess how many more hours until the appointment? Guess I'm a little more stressed than I care to admit.
Mentally I know she's fine (aside from being 3...but that's nothing the docs can help me with). Emotionally, it's another story. I watch these shows on TLC and Discovery Channel - the trauma ones and the other medical shows - and I wonder how I would react if I were in their shoes. I don't want to know. Ever.
I tucked her into bed tonight and explained what the doctors will do tomorrow (or what I think they will do) and as I put my ear to her chest, I thought that they cannot be any sweeter sound than the sound of your baby's heart beating.
I remember how thrilling it was to hear it on the Doppler while I was pregnant with her. I remember holding my breath the first time the OB took the wand and ran it over my belly, trying to find her heartbeat. I remember that wonderful feeling when I heard it. And that feeling was repeated each and every time I went for a visit. And I remember how thrilling it was to see her heart beating on the ultrasound screen - so perfect and rhythmic. There is nothing sweeter. Nothing.