I had become quite laid back when it came to illness. I knew kids got sick and tried not to rush to the pediatrician every time they sneezed, coughed, or had a little fever. I didn’t even always give fever reducing medicine with every feverish episode. I was feeling pretty secure in my motherly intuition and that my sense of things was usually right. This confidence had come over six years and four boys worth of illnesses and doctor’s visits.
With baby number one this wasn’t the case. I was the nervous new mother, afraid that I was going to do something wrong, miss something huge, or make some novice mistake that would harm the precious, new, tiny human being that had been entrusted into my care. Slowly, I began to trust myself and gained the confidence that I would know if there was something wrong. Gradually, I learned the difference between a stuffy nose that I could handle at home and something that needed a quick trip to the pediatrician. I wasn’t always right, of course. There were times that I was so sure that one of the boys had an ear infection only to be shocked when the pediatrician announced that their ears were “perfect.” Despite that I felt like I had a pretty good handle on when to worry and when to relax and let things run their course.
Something happened recently that has shaken this confidence. Fever has gone from no big deal to a really big, huge, giant deal. I used to only medicate if the temperature reached 100.5 and sometimes not even then if they didn’t seem lethargic or otherwise feeling rotten. I believed the theory that fever is the body’s way of fighting off infection and tried to let it do so. That all changed the morning my 3 year old had a febrile seizure.
The previous evening had been uneventful. The kids all went to bed easily and there was no sign of illness. As often happens, the fever didn’t strike until the middle of the night. My big boy crawled into bed with me and whined and I hugged him and he felt hot. Not the warm, let’s see what happens kind of fever. He was hot. I sleepily wandered into the kitchen and gave him some ibuprofen, and then we slept.
In the morning, I was pleased that his body felt cool and he seemed his bubbly, happy self. As we continued our morning routine of rushing to get his older brothers ready for school, I noticed him getting a little whiny, and even felt his forehead a few times, but he still felt cool to the touch. It wasn’t until we were in the garage getting in the van that upon checking again he felt not warm, but hot. It happened so fast. I quickly put the baby in his car seat and was heading back in the house to get a dose of medicine to give to him. I mentally crossed off the things I wouldn’t be doing that day and wondered if I should call the pediatrician for an appointment after running the kids to school. It was then that I looked over and he was sitting on the garage floor looking down. I said “Hey, buddy, let’s get in the car.” He didn’t respond. I bent down and picked him up and his gaze was fixed on nothing. I could not get him to look at me, or respond in any way to me. My gut told me he was about to have a seizure and I took him inside and called 911.
Even never having seen a child seize, I knew what was happening. I had the knowledge that this was a fairly common thing. I knew that febrile seizures were not usually harmful. I knew they usually had no lasting side effects. Yet, the experience of watching my child go through this was just about more than I could handle. I did manage to hold myself together, barely. I could not ride on the ambulance because I had the other kids to take care of. Watching the ambulance leave with my baby inside was gut wrenching. I’ve never felt so helpless. I called someone to come take my big boys to school. She grabbed the youngest while she was there so I could go to the hospital on my own. I called my husband to meet me at the hospital. He beat the ambulance there, which was so comforting. I kept picturing my little buddy in the hospital, awake but not knowing where he was and having no one he knew with him. The fear of him being alone and afraid was worse than the actual seizure. It was a relief to have that feeling put aside.
That day was in August. It took me three days to stop worrying it was going to happen again. It was at least a week before I stopped touching his forehead several times a day, whether he was acting sick or not. My philosophy for treating fevers has completely turned 180 degrees. Instead of waiting to let things run their course I give him medicine if he reaches 99.5. That is, I will. Fortunately, since that day in late August none of the boys has been ill. That hasn’t stopped me from checking his temperature at the slightest sign of a sneeze. It hasn’t kept me from wondering if and when it will happen again, to him or one of the other boys.
I know that there is nothing I could have done to prevent his seizure. I know that I did everything right that day. I know that he is fine and even if it were to happen again, he would still be fine. Still, the experience shook my confidence that I know when something is serious or not. Sometimes knowledge just isn’t enough to soothe a mother’s heart.
An original Deep South Moms post.
Read more about Rebecca's Life With Boys on her personal blog.
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Posted by Rebecca on December 05, 2008 at 11:50 AM in Rebecca | Permalink
Technorati Tags: Deep South Moms, febrile seizure, Life With Boys
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Sue @ My Party of 6 said...
Oh this story makes my heart race. How very scary. I've never seen a febrile seizure either and I wonder if I could hold it together if one of my kids had one. Thank goodness he was ok and your husband is a fast driver!
Great post!
Reply December 05, 2008 at 01:24 PM Amy@UWM said...
Oh, wow. How scary! Thanks for sharing this. I don't know if would have known what was happening if my child suddenly went unresponsive like that.
Reply December 05, 2008 at 05:32 PM Ann said...
I remember when this happened - how scary. Hopefully you'll never witness that again
ann
Reply December 05, 2008 at 05:47 PM Kate said...
I have never been to this site before but I'll be reading from now on, two posts in one day that have touched my heart.
I understand that feeling, the moment when your child goes from a regular kid to burningly hot and then suddenly there is just nothing in their eyes. Its the most painfully terrifying thing. I was lucky that the after hours dr I saw when my 2 yr old daughter (she's three and a half now) had a chest infection was listening to his intuition, for some reason he sent us to hospital to see the paediatrician when I was happy enough to take the antibiotics and head home. An hour later and just managed to get into the ER after sitting in the waiting room, I was giving her some asthma inhaler and suddenly she wasn't there anymore, her eyes rolled back and she was seizing, her entire body. That feeling of watching people working on your child, hearing the sound of them choke on their own saliva and knowing that apart from making them safe you can't do a damn thing.
But believe me you will find that confidence again, it will be tempered with a little less bravado but you will feel able to trust yourself again. Take strength from the fact that you did the right thing, you can't see these things coming and you may never have to see another one again, and by writing this post you may have prepared another parent for something which lots of people think will never happen to them. Thanks for sharing.
Reply December 08, 2008 at 01:45 PM maryelena said...
You've done a great job describing the horror of the seizures and the loss of confidence in the ability to treat basic childhood illnesses. My daughter had her first febrile seizure at 15 months and another at 26 months and none since (6 years later). You do get your confidence back -- slowly. I became the queen of alternating tylenol and motrin and taking lukewarm baths together. I had some special toys for the fever baths to make them more bearable for her.
The next fever will be scary until you can keep it down and it goes by without incident and then you will be on your way to getting your mommy groove back.
Good luck.
Reply December 08, 2008 at 09:48 PM Rebecca said...
Thanks to all of you for the sweet comments! Kate & Maryelena, thank you so very much for sharing your stories. It is good to know others who have been through the same thing, though I'd never wish the experience on any mother.
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