Mothering Gone Wrong

 I try my hardest to be make good decisions regarding my children, overwhelmed with the realization that it is my choices that determine much of their destiny at this stage. At the Keukenhoff Gardens, we had another medical misfortune. Mia climbed up to have her picture taken in the flower dress above, when suddenly she slipped while climbing down. A deep slit appeared, with blood running down her cheek. My initial reaction, accompanied with a sigh, was that we would have to take her to the hospital to be taped and glued, just like her older brother. We cleaned up the wound, but then saw that the blood stopped and the flesh seemed to be staying tightly together. We examined the wound from every angle and decided that our sweet Mia may be alright without foreign doctors intervening. I picked up a few butterfly band aids and some disinfectant gel as an added precaution. Before long, somewhere between Holland and Germany, things turned for the worse. Clearly Mia's cheek was infected. Another big sigh. I made the wrong call. When we arrived in Berlin, I called for a cab and loaded my baby in the back seat, extremely thankful that Jenny was taking care of the other five for as long as I had to be gone. I visited one hospital, just to be told that I was at the wrong place. Another cab ride later, I arrived in the emergency room of Berlin's Children's Hospital. An English speaking doctor was on duty, so I we were in good shape. Mia's little face was poked, prodded, flushed and taped. I left with instructions to find a pediatrician and a pharmacy by the next morning to receive antibiotics as well as a promise that the bill would arrive in the mail, even in the United States.

The next morning I ventured out again to find a pediatrician. I wandered the streets early in the morning of an area of Berlin that was unknown to tourists. English speakers were just as hard to find as the pediatrician's office. Finally to the basement of a building I was directed, where I found a Grateful Dead fan look alike who was waiting for us. He prescribed a big bottle of medicine and sent me off to find the pharmacy. Armed with gels, bandages and 16 ounces of sticky liquid, we were back on track, ready to resume our sight seeing.