Pierce had a seizure this morning. Of all places to be, we were sitting with his pediatrician for his well check up. I had no idea he had even the slightest temperature. He was acting very sleepy, his head resting on my chest. Suddenly, he flung back, his eyes rolled, and his body began jerking uncontrollably. I am still shaking from the memory.
His temperature had soared to 105 degrees F in a few short hours, bringing on the febrile seizure. It happens sometimes in children between the ages of six months and five years. It is the way their body reacts to the extreme rise in temperature. It does no harm to the child. It does a lot of harm to the mom.
He is okay now. Medicine, baths, popsicles, and lots of cuddles for the next 24 hours of monitoring. He is napping as I write this. I need to write this, fast, before I forget any of it.
I was unable to do anything to help as the doctor and nurse took over. I stood helpless as this awful reaction seized his little frame. There was but one thought screaming through my head, “Oh, God, PLEASE, hold my baby!” The fears, the trembling, the utter desperation to see your child well. It is in these all too real and raw encounters that life is put into perspective quicker than you ever thought possible.
Life is precious, to be grasped at every last moment. No more taking hours for granted.
What is truly important? Is it having a white picket fence around my perfect little home, a nice car, designer shoes?? Is it about “me time” success time, purpose, career, praise, acknowledgment??? A fit body, shiny hair, smooth complexion??? For all the times I spent craving any one of these petty things, my shame runs deep.
Today, I desire nothing more than my healthy little boy back.
Pierce, you are my breath, my heart, my soul. You scared the living daylights out of me this morning. Please do not ever do that again. I knew I loved you before. Now I know I love you more than air, more than sunlight, more than anything which makes this world go round.
I long for nap time to be over. Wow, who knew I would ever say that?? I simply want to hold you again. To feel your breathe upon my neck, to know you are fully mine.
One more thing:
I do know sometimes coincidences happen. However, I believe the chances of sitting right next to a doctor we see twice a year, in that very moment, was something much more than a coincidence. And so to this I say, ‘Thank you God, for holding my baby. Thank you God, for holding his momma.’