It's been so long since I've posted. I wouldn't be surprised if this little blog didn't make the end-of-Google-Reader-cut for most folks. S'okay. I really just wanted to write this while the details were still fresh in my mind. In the future, I may not want to remember the details but that's when the delete post option comes in handy.
This past Wednesday wound down like any other day. We fed the kids, bathed them, tucked them in after reading way more books than what was originally agreed upon. Matt and I ate dinner and talked about our day. Around 8 pm, Hew came downstairs, half asleep, complaining he was cold. Matt took him back up to his room and tucked him in extra tight as he inherited my tendencies to kick off all the covers in his sleep. Then around 10 pm, Hew got up again and came into our room while I was getting ready for bed. As I carried him back to his room, I noticed he felt a little warm but he had complained about a stuffy nose that day so I dismissed it as the onset of a cold. "Probably from his kissing spree of random poles at the park," I said to Matt. He's a smoocher, that kid. About an hour later, Matt was on his way upstairs when he found Hew sitting on the steps. Matt scooped him up and was just about to scold him for getting up when he started shaking.
I was woken up by a hysterical husband who came charging into our room with our son in his arms. I watched in denial as the tiny body of my 3 year old convulsed and twitched. His mouth started to foam and his lips turned blue. I looked into his eyes searching for my sweet baby boy only to find a lifeless stare. While Matt frantically screamed, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM?! WHAT DO I DO?!" I reached for my cell and dialed 911. When the dispatcher asked, "What's your emergency?" my response was almost involuntary. "I think my son is having a seizure." When the paramedics came, they were a vision to me. I don't mean to be cheesy or cliche but those men in uniform were like knights in shining armor riding in on a white horse with flashing lights. It was then that the reality of it all finally sank in and I became the hysterical mother you see in movies.
Hew suffered a febrile seizure. It only lasted a couple minutes but it truly felt like an eternity. We stayed at the hospital overnight where they monitored his temperature to make sure it didn't creep back up. His strep test came back negative and chest x-rays looked great. The saint of an ER doc (he answered alllllll my type-A questions with nothing but kindness) thought that Hew developed an upper respiratory infection (hence the stuffy nose and red throat) which led to his fever. Even though it was low grade and Hew has had higher fevers before, it was the quick spike that led to the febrile seizure (a learning from one of my annoying questions). Hew was back to his usual happy, chatty self before we even left the hospital. Despite a warning that he wouldn't have much of an appetite in the coming days, my son asked for pancakes and bacon as soon as we got home and polished his plate. He doesn't even remember the ambulance ride.
I had read that seizures are not uncommon among young children when they develop a fever and that it's partly because their brains are growing and developing at such a rapid rate, but all logic and reason vanished when I witnessed it happening to my baby. That sight is branded into my brain and I see a vivid replay of it every time I close my eyes. I can only hope the image will fade away with time. I look forward to the day that I won't be scared to open my son's door in fear of the worst, that my heart won't stop every time my child gets a fever.
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