New motherhood involves many phone calls. Even for me, a person who doesn’t enjoy talking on the phone. I made many calls in those early days. The nurse line for our pediatrician became my safe place for the first three months, my phone-a-friend. “What is this goopy stuff in his eye?” “Is he peeing enough?” “My baby is cross-eyed, is she OK?” Their reassurance was vital to me, this incompetent idiot tasked with keeping a small human alive.
Over time, I found the nurse line to be a gatekeeper of sorts — helping my anxious brain decide if an office visit was warranted. Helping me not look like an idiot, or at least to fewer people. Those experts saved me many trips (and — by default — many viruses) by saying simply: “Your baby is fine.”
Later on in my motherhood journey, another phone-line became that gatekeeper. Perhaps not utilized as often, but just as important. That line is Poison Control.
Now my first call was somewhat amusing to the nurse, but not so much to me. This was the time my 8-month-old ate Burt’s Bee’s lotion. My mother memory can’t be sure, but he might’ve ingested half a teaspoon at most. Is an organic baby cream OK swallowed in micro-quantities? I asked. The saintly nurse double-checked, but yes.
Next up was the melatonin debacle of ’12. This was when I found my 15-month-old’s mouth stuffed chipmunk-full of pink tablets. She had gotten into my purse and proceeded to shove them in by the fistful. I was understandably horrified and convinced she would sleep until puberty. But the most I could be worried about was mild drowsiness, dizziness or headache. Thankfully she had none of those! She has since maintained her terrible sleeping habits, and we were spared any issue.
Our biggest call was the Tylenol scare of ‘13. I was in the middle of containing the wrath of a virus that had torn through the house. High fevers abounded. Bottles of acetaminophen and Motrin were strewn in the pantry in varying stages of use. I was rotating the medicine for kids alongside the pitchers of coffee I required to function.
At some point in this debris of sickness the 15-month-old managed to reach a bottle. She was merely holding said bottle, but I still freaked. It wasn’t even close to her lips, but I couldn’t be sure. For all I knew she’d just finished chugging it like a frat guy. Perhaps she’d downed the whole thing! I knew there had been a fuller one and an emptier one but would’ve been hard-pressed under those extreme sleep-deprived conditions to confidently tell you the day of the week let alone exactly how much was in either.
Enter Poison Control! You’ll be asked lots of investigative questions, and in our case, we were sent to the ER since the amount of intake couldn’t be verified. Fortunately, the ER can test whether your baby has ingested any Tylenol. The answer for us was NONE. So, for my peace of mind, this was an emergency visit well worth it.
The moral of this story is, if it’s not obvious, always call. Just like their motto – when in doubt, check it out! Poison Control is there for professional reassurance. It’s an important thing to assess, and not by Google, but by an expert. I’ve had nurses help me figure out whether I’d dosed my child wrong. I’ve had them carefully collect information and help me decide if my child was in danger from my own carelessness. I’ve never felt judged or ridiculous.
All my best to those medical professionals who dealt with me and may someday deal with you too, dear reader. Three cheers for Poison Control.
Poisonings can happen to anyone, anywhere, and at any time. Make sure you are prepared for any poison emergency by having poison control at your fingertips! Save the Poison Help contact in your phone today, 1-800-222-1222.
