the worst day

-I just finished this post and came back up to the top to say it's much longer and more detailed than I ever planned or imagined writing. It was hard, but cathartic to recall and type out. But there was also some healing that took place. I'm thankful for this space to write. This was stream of consciousness, which brought out some thoughts and feelings I hadn't acknowledged yet. What a gift it is to write, when it brings out these emotions and leaves peace in their place...
 
Some of you have asked for specifics about our bad day. One day I will probably tell Drew about this. It might not even be until he's a daddy, a long long time from now, but he may ask, and I will tell him about this horrible day, and have this post to help me with the details. I hope and pray this is the one and only febrile seizure I will ever document. However, should he have another or several in the future, it will be helpful to have this as a reference.

Last Saturday, the day before Drew's 11month birthday, started out like a normal Saturday. Actually, it started extra fun. We met friends at the Dallas Zoo, saw some animals, let Drew splash around in the kids creek, and then went to lunch in Bishop Arts. D was happy as can be, and seemed fine.
We came home, he napped, and then he and I headed to my friend Lindsey's house in Burleson for a playdate. (about 40 minutes from our house) Both of the ladies I met up with used to live in Austin, and both have babies about Drew's age now. When we got there he was a little fussy, but I thought he was just tired. After a little while, he seemed a little warm to me, so we took his temp. 99.5...not too bad, but higher than usual. I had forgotten to bring our little medicine pouch with all of his stuff, and my friend had just run out of tylenol and ibuprofen, so we gave him two teething tablets to help ease the fussiness, and I laid him down in their crib. About thirty minutes later he cried a little, so I went back and got him. I was holding him on my lap (which he doesn't usually allow me to do) and smiling inside because I thought he was being cuddly. Just a few minutes later, he leaned back suddenly. I thought he was snuggling, and started to smile as I looked down, until I saw his eyes roll back. I quickly stood up and said "what's happening?" and then he instantly started convulsing. I laid him on the couch and Andrea immediately called 911. She also looked at her phone to check the time, something that came in handy later, when we were repeatedly asked how long the seizure lasted. What followed was the LONGEST seven minutes of my life. Drew's eyes were rolling back, I figured he was having a febrile seizure, because I'd read about them on so many parenting sites, but I was still scared out of my mind. Although I was mostly calm and rational, for a quick ten seconds, I let myself go there...WHAT IF HE STOPS BREATHING? WHAT IF HE'S NEVER THE SAME? IS HE GOING TO DIE? WILL ZAC EVER HOLD HIM AGAIN? And then I snapped myself out of it. About a minute into the seizure I called Zac. I dreaded telling him as the phone rang. (My friend was recording the seizure with her iphone at this time, and she sent me the video. In it, I can hear my call to Zac, and honestly, I don't know how I was so calm.) "Drew is having a serizure. We are on the phone with 911. I need you to come right away. Lindsey is going to give you her address...write it down" and then I handed the phone to Lindsey. That's all he got. It was rough watching my baby convulse and feeling so out of control and helpless, but I know hearing this and not being there, and only getting snippets of information had to be so hard on Zac. Andrea continued to talk to the dispatcher, who was asking for updates, and giving us instructions. (don't do CPR, don't put anything in his mouth, etc) I felt like we waited forever. And then he stopped seizing. And that's when I started getting really really really frightened. Because the seizures look rythmic and he was moving and although it was awful, I knew his body was okay. What happened next was the worst part. He got eerily still. He turned white, and quit doing the shallow panting breaths that the seizure caused. I couldn't tell if he was breathing at all. I leaned my ear down to his mouth to listen and hope to feel a hot breath. He was breathing. Lindsey felt his head and remarked that he was really hot. His eyes were still not normal and he started a slow low moan. This is when I felt like my heart might ACTUALLY SHATTER. He was coming to and he was miserable. He seemed like he was in so much pain. I almost wanted to seizures to start back. This seemed too much to bear. (just typing this out is making me weep...like it's happening all over again.) Will help ever come? Finally (just eight minutes after we called) an ambulance arrived. I stood in the front door and begged them to hurry, relief washing over me. This was a local unit, and within thirty seconds of assessing Drew, a man stepped out, and another one of them men told me they were calling Care Flite. I just nodded and listened, except I wasn't really listening, because my head was saying "okay, this is real. This IS life and death. I didn't think it was, but it is. They're calling a helicopter. Will I get to ride in the helicopter? What if something happens to him while I'm not with him. He NEEDS me! I NEED him! They can't do this to me?" So I interrupted and asked if I'd get to ride with him. The nice man said "of course" and for a second I felt better. One of the paramedics was taking Drew's temp (which was 101.5 at that point) and checking his vitals. The next thing I knew, the new group of paramedics entered the living room. They were calm and gentle and made me feel very safe and comforted. James introduced himself to me and then instantly said "your son is going to be FINE! I know this is scary and traumatic, but this is a febrile seizure, and he's going to be okay! I need you to know that." I only kind of believed him, but it still made me feel better. Then he asked me for Drew's car seat. I was shocked. "you really need that?" "yes ma'am, that's how we'll transport him to the hospital." "a car seat in a HELICOPTER?" I asked him, perplexed. But that's when he looked confused and said "no, an ambulance. We came in an ambulance. We're going to take him by ambulance" and then I felt like things weren't so scary again. And then suddenly I realized I didn't even know what hospital we were traveling to. I need to tell Zac! But apperantly the first crew had already told Lindsey that the next ambulance would take us to Cook Children's Hospital in downtown Fort Worth. And because she's so awesome, she had already called Zac (without me even asking or realizing) and told him to meet us at Cooks. Lindsey went and got the carseat (again, without me even asking her to) so I could stay by Drew. I tried to talk to him. "Momma's here. I'm not gonna leave you. It's going to be okay. I'm sorry you're hurting. We're going to fix it baby." Except I think I was talking to myself too. If I said it out loud, maybe I'd believe it. We quickly loaded up into the ambulance, and sure enough, he was in his car seat strapped to a stretcher. (Side note, it helped keep him still...I totally understand why they wanted it. I can't imagine how the ride would've gone without him in it.) James sat in the back with me and started hooking all sorts of stuff up to Drew. After the first or second time I asked, he started explaining every little move he made, what he wrote down, what each thing did, and what the numbers on the screen meant. Drew still looked awful. It was harder to witness this chunk of time than the seizure itself. He was so not himself. He was groaning and his mouth was making tons of bubbles. I remember thinking James was so gentle as he took a few gauze pads and blotted around his mouth. I asked him if he had kids. He didn't. He put the tiniest oxygen mask I've ever seen over his mouth and nose. He stuck four sensors onto his arms and legs, and then started staring at the screen. At one point he looked concerned, and started digging around a cabinet for something. I asked him what was going on, and he calmly and matter-of-factly explained that he was worried about his pulse. It was 196 and not dropping. It should've been closer to 150. His body was not coming out of the seizure the way they hoped and wanted it to. He gave Drew some medicine up his nose. Versed (pronounced ver-set). This was a supposed to help his body calm down and relax, hopefully lowering his pulse as well. (blood pressure stayed around 118/80, which was good) James continued to monitor Drew. Listen to his heart, check the screen, make some notes, etc. About twenty minutes later we arrived at the hospital. Zac called as I was stepping off of the back of the ambulance. He was already there. (he told me later that he looked down several times on the drive from Midlo to Ft Worth, and was going 95 mph! Thank the Lord for watching over him and getting him there safely!) I told him we were entering the "ambulance entrance" and I heard him tell the waiting room clerk that his child had arrived and she buzzed him back. We hung up. I hadn't cried at all up to this point. I was fully focused and adrenaline must've been keeping me calm. But then I saw Zac, and I felt the tears come. And then I saw his face when he saw Drew (who was still not himself and made no reaction whatsoever to seeing Daddy) and my heart broke all over again. I held it together until they put us in a room, and then as soon as they stepped out, I hugged Zac and wept. My chest heaved, and I felt my legs might give out. He squeezed me and let me cry, and I knew he was scared and hurting too. A nurse was assigned to Drew and she came in and introduced herself and said "this is very normal. It's never normal to see it happen to your own child, but this happens a lot and he is going to be just fine! He should not have any damage from this. I know it must've been so scary, but the worst part is over. He's going to be okay!" I had heard this several times now, and this time I believed it. She was so kind and sincere, and I trusted her. Shortly after she came in and checked on Drew, a doctor came in. He thoroughly examined Drew and told us that he was ordering labs to see if we could determine what caused the fever in the first place. The nurse came back in, with an assistant, to draw blood and start an IV. She had a very hard time finding a vain. I could tell she was very good at what she does, but he was dehydrated which made it hard to find a good vain. She bent his hand at the wrist and squeezed so tightly that his fingers and palm were pressed against his forearm. That alone looked like it would hurt, but then she started moving the needle back and forth, back and forth, until she found a place that let a little blood out into the tube. Fortunately Drew was too exhausted to put up a fight. I put Baby Einstein on my phone You Tube and held it to the side of his that she wasn't working on. He watched with glazed eyes, only occasionally looking at his arm and the women who were messing with him. When they finally got the blood they needed, she explained that they were going to wait to start an IV, only if he spends the night. She brought some pedialyte and gatorade and let us feed him for the first time. He drank it slowly and we gave him a little more. While we waited for the lab results, we let him watch the rest of the Baby Einstein and made a few phone calls/texts to family and friends. Before we knew it, the doctor came back and said that the bloodwork looked great. His white counts weren't elevated, which meant no bacterial infection. He said it must be a virus, and gave us some information to take home. The nurse came by soon after with discharge papers, and answered the rest of our questions. I wanted to take her home with us. Like the time we left the hospital after he was diagnosed with RSV, I felt scared, overwhelmed, and a little incapable to take him home where WE were the ones responsible for his precious life. But I was also happy we were going home.

overflow of emotions

Would you believe me if I told you that I think about this blog every day? EVERY. SINGLE. DAY! Seriously. I'm not exaggerating! I think of things I want to document, frustrations to vent, memories to record, milestones to applaud...yet I haven't written in six months. I beat myself up over not blogging more, which I think is why I continue the hiatus, but NO MORE! Today I am breaking the ice and returning to the blog. At least for today. :)

Drew is 11 months old. He has been this many months for eight days now, and each day that passes makes me more and more emotional. Because that's one day closer to his first birthday. I didn't fully get this until I became a mom. 'It's a birthday...what's the big deal?' Totally wrong...such a big deal. Because it's not just a birthday. It's a reflection of the MOST AMAZING YEAR of our lives. It's memory lane. It's celebrating the little soul that changed everything (yes, EVERYTHING) about not only the way we live, but WHO we are. We are his, and he is ours. He made us a family. He changed the way we look at our own family. He's changed every single relationship in my life. Because seeing my friends and family become Drew's village is more touching than my brain can explain. It's a little teeny tiny bit of a relief...we're past the super delicate newborn stage. But then again, let's be honest...no matter how old he gets, he will always be our BABY and every little thing will matter. It's so much more than I can even put into words. It's a million emotions (sad, happy, proud, joyful, excited, confident, scared, eager, curious) all swirled into one overwhelming event. I'm actually fighting tears as I type this. Lump in the throat, burning in my chest. So if this is what 11 months and 8 days feels like, I can't even imagine what the BIG DAY will feel like. And how about the day of his party? When I see all the people we love come together to celebrate OUR boy, I can't even fathom the emotions. Our happy little miracle baby.
Sooo...if you see me, talk to me, have any type of communication with me, in the next few weeks, chances are I'm going to be emotional and sappy and I might even cry. Also, I'm on a strict diet, and who doesn't get emtoional on diets? Double whammy. (poor Zac...what were we thinking with the timing of this 24day challenge?) Anyways, consider yourself warned.
PS-Sunday Zac ran to Target to buy a canister of formula. When he got home, I realized this was the LAST formula we'd ever buy him. Which also means he'll be done with bottles soon too. Sigh...