Lucy woke up Monday morning a little cranky and with a low fever. She was coughing a croupy cough, but she was uncharacteristically cheery for not feeling well. We snuggled most of the morning and made plans for the rest of the day.
She woke up from her afternoon nap with a higher fever, and Nate stayed home with her while I took Milo to gymnastics. We decided to have a chill evening, with a fire and a movie. Nothing major, just rest for all. As her fever climbed a bit more, I thought a cool bath might help her before bedtime, but I wasn't worried.
And then, in the midst of all this, my biggest fears came to life. Lucy had a seizure. She's never had a seizure. I've never seen someone have one. And because I am desperately trying to forget what it's like to hold your baby as she seizes, speaking soothing words for your three-year old as your husband speeds the family to the hospital, I'll spare you the details. But we spent the rest of the evening in the ER.
Lucy's seizure was a febrile seizure caused by a sudden spike in her fever. They leave no damage, and these are apparently quite common in children. We were sent home with a prescription for antibiotics (ear infection), Motrin and Tylenol to bring the fever down (caused by a viral upper respiratory infection - viral = just run its course), and a baby on a three-hour through the night medicine schedule (like having a newborn all over again). Milo spent the night at the Foys (so grateful that Amanda raced to the hospital to snatch him up and take him home). And Nate and I were left with an awful memory and a lot of questions.
I'm grateful that Lucy is just fine. In fact, she's downright cranky and extra feisty today, coughing away and marching herself around after me. I'm also downright teary when I think of people with epileptic children who go through this all the time, but times a million (Lucy never stopped breathing, never turned colors and again, was completely undamaged). And I guess I just had to tell you that this happened, and I am trying not to be a mess about it.
Sleep feels impossible (for a myriad of reasons aside from being emotionally traumatized). My little people are still a bit unsettled. We thought Milo was unaware of the whole thing, but he cried for probably an hour after we laid him down for bed last night. He's a sensitive little guy and I should have known that he sensed more than he let on. And Lucy was up until 1:30 a.m., crying if we laid her down and staggering around like a drunken sailor from sheer exhaustion. We are going to get back to normal, but first I have to stop trying to forget it happened and let my brain work through it. So thanks for listening (reading, whatever). Say a little prayer for all these Jacksons when you can.