With Kids, the Scares Keep Coming

Friday, July 9, 2010

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

With Kids, the Scares Keep Coming

By J’AMY PACHECO

Even before we became parents, our daughter gave my husband and I a few frights.

The first time I can remember being scared by her came when I was pregnant, and we went for an appointment to hear our baby’s heartbeat. The machine didn’t pick one up, and the concerned nurse sent us for an ultrasound. I’ll never forget the technician looking at us sadly and saying, “I’m so sorry. There’s no heartbeat.”

Seconds later, though, the little character on the monitor started kicking her legs like crazy. The technician laughed as she assured us the baby couldn’t possibly do that if she didn’t have a heartbeat. Everything was OK, but both of us remember how terrified we were for those few minutes.

She ended up arriving prematurely, and only days after she arrived home, we had to call paramedics when she stopped breathing. We learned that she hadn’t developed a gag reflex yet, but any future problems were headed off with a machine that beeped if she stopped breathing. (She never did again.)

When she was a toddler, I nearly cooked her. She had been coming down with a cold, and after a bath, I wrapped her in towels, put her in my bed, and covered her up. As she slept, she kept kicking off the covers. I kept replacing them.

By the time she awoke, she was dangerously warm. Oops.

For the most part, though, she’s been a pretty healthy child. Now 14, she rarely needs to see a doctor for anything other than the vaccinations she despises.

It was, therefore, quite a shock when my daughter passed out a few days ago.

We had friends staying at our house, and all of us had been going to the AnimeExpo in Los Angeles each day. It was great fun watching the three teenagers dress as animated characters from video games or Manga books.

The second day, they all dressed as characters from a Disney video game called Kingdom Hearts. They went as members of “The Organization,” dressing in wigs, long black fake leather coats, boots and black gloves.

They had a wonderful time being recognized and photographed by and with strangers. By the end of the day, though, I could see my daughter losing enthusiasm. While we sat and had beverages, she complained of being hot. When I realized how much heat was coming from inside her coat, I made her give it to me and wear her street clothes for the remainder of the day.

The next morning, she and a pal dressed as characters from a book series, “Death Note.” The teens were all looking forward to spending their last day at the Expo screening a video of an episode, and couldn’t wait to go. For them, it was the big event.

I decided my daughter’s dress was too revealing, though, and insisted on sewing some straps on. I was on the last one when she said, “Mom, I need to sit down.”

With the patience and understanding only a mother can display, I said, “Hang on. I’m almost done.” My friend noted that my daughter looked pale, and a millisecond later, she was falling in slow motion.

An ambulance whisked her to the hospital, where doctors ran every test in the book. After half a day of waiting, we discovered she’d become dehydrated. Apparently, the Gatorade she’d put into her petite frame the day before wasn’t enough.

Fortunately, I was standing behind my daughter and was able to lower her unconscious form to the ground. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to shake the image of her eyes closing as she fell, and the terror and panic that went through my mind as I momentarily wondered if she would wake up.

As luck would have it, she fainted on the day she was dressed in the skankiest outfit she’s ever been allowed to wear. It was a black lace corset dress with black leggings and knee-high, lace-up boots. She had on a blonde wig with little pigtails sticking out from the top—exactly like the character, Misa, she was portraying.

It would be too much to hope for an event like that to happen when she was dressed for church or school. I figured the paramedics and emergency room doctors would take one look at her and think, “Drugs.” So I found myself explaining to everyone I met that it was a “Manga thing.”

This week, we’re headed for another convention—with costume events every day. We’re bringing Gatorade, so dehydration is covered.

I’m sure there’s another scary event around the corner. When it comes, I just hope she’s dressed for church…