I just wrote a long email to a friend about this, so I thought I'd post it here on my blog since it's been forever since I wrote a thing.
The past 24 hours have pretty much sucked. The youngest's cough has been getting steadily worse over the past 3 days, so we were waffling on whether to take him to urgent care yesterday or just wait till the doctor's office was open today. We opted for the 2nd choice. Saturday and Sunday nights he was up most of the night. Additionally, yesterday afternoon when I got ready to put the daughter down for her nap, I took her pants off and it looked like she had ant bites on her legs. A bit later I noticed some on her back, too. So we changed her sheets and put her in a different shirt, and put her down for the nap. By the time she woke up, she was covered with blotchy red spots. I thought they must be hives, but I've never really seen them so I wasn't totally sure. By 7 p.m. she was starting to swell in places and we were kind of freaking out, so I took her to the ER at Children's. They gave her Benadryl and said they were hives, and that she either had a virus or that there was a small possibility she was reacting to the amoxicillin she'd been taking the last week for an ear infection. The doctor said there wasn't much else he could do and that they'd probably start looking worse, like big purple bruises. He said to just watch to be sure they didn't show up on her eyeball or in her mouth--and that if they did, to bring her back in.
Well, in the middle of the night she was crying and hubby went to try and comfort her, and her face was totally swollen and her eyes were nearly swollen shut! Still none in her mouth or anything, but it was really bad--she looked like a different baby. Then about 3:30 she puked, and then seemed to calm down some, but the hives just kept getting worse. This morning we made appointments for both her and the youngest to see the pedi. The earliest they could get them in was 11:30. Around 10 we noticed that her hands and feet were turning blue and we freaked again. Called the emergency nurse at our pediatrician's office and she said to bring them in right away. When we got there, everyone was commenting on how severe the hives were, but no one seemed overly concerned about the color of her hands, so we calmed down some. Turns out that's a pretty common reaction to hives as well--the circulation in her body is going towards the hives and away from her hands/feet. Our pedi gave her a steroid and some Benadryl and then gave us a prescription for the steroid. It's supposed to help keep the swelling down, and the Benadryl will keep it from itching, but neither of them will make it go away. It does look better now, but still she looks terrible. I had to reschedule our photo appointment (for our one year photos) which was supposed to be tomorrow, heheh.
The youngest has bronchitis, so she gave him a cough medicine, an antibiotic, and he has to use a nebulizer treatment for the next couple of days. They are both still asleep right now, so that's good. I'm hoping that tonight they will actually sleep. Last night I got maybe a total of 4 hours and it wasn't contiguous so I was pretty tired. Just finished taking a nap myself, woo!
Showing posts with label the eldest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the eldest. Show all posts
Monday, December 29, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
nice things
Today at dinner, without being asked, the eldest got his own silverware and napkin, and then got napkins for me and his dad. He said, "Mama, I set the table!"
What a sweetie.
I'm going to miss him. And the daughter. And the youngest. And my hubby.
But I'm going to see the Smashing Pumpkins! Yay!
What a sweetie.
I'm going to miss him. And the daughter. And the youngest. And my hubby.
But I'm going to see the Smashing Pumpkins! Yay!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
boiling point
I've reached the point of meltdown today.
The eldest was a complete emotional basketcase when I picked him up from school. I think he's just tired, but it pushes me to the outer limits of my patience. And now, the babies, who are oh, so tired and have not had a decent nap in their cribs yet today, are refusing to nap.
I need a vacation, people.
The eldest was a complete emotional basketcase when I picked him up from school. I think he's just tired, but it pushes me to the outer limits of my patience. And now, the babies, who are oh, so tired and have not had a decent nap in their cribs yet today, are refusing to nap.
I need a vacation, people.
Friday, September 26, 2008
emergency, emergency
It is the eve before I am to celebrate my 40th birthday by seeing Seinfeld at the Majestic Theater in San Antonio, followed by a stay in a lovely riverside hotel, WITH NO KIDS.
I'm awakened at 1 a.m. by the sounds of the eldest coughing and calling for me. I enter his room and he says, "Mommy, I'm sick! I'm going to throw up!" I start trying the things that have worked before, start calming him down, DH gets up and starts running the hot water in the tub, but the stridor is on the breathing out and the breathing in. With stupid medical book in hand, I contemplate whether or not this constitutes an emergency. I hear the eldest, calmer now, but still barking like a seal, start to laugh because his voice sounds funny. Hubby says, "Why don't you just call the physician's line and see what they say?" I am not convinced. I hold the eldest on my lap to try to assess the situation more clearly. I feel him start to shake and spasm. He doesn't feel feverish. But he is shaking like he has the chills. I am now able to clearly hear him struggling to exhale as much as he is struggling to inhale. The fear wraps around me and I tell DH to get him in the car, take him to the emergency room. "Do I need to call 911?" I hear myself say, as I try to swallow the panic. DH starts being indecisive and I snap into authoritative mode. I say, "Take him in your car, so you can reach him if anything happens. I don't want him sitting in the back seat of the minivan if something happens." He says, "Let's just call the physician's line and see what they say." "NO! Take him in!" DH starts getting dressed and I take the eldest downstairs, in my arms. He is shaking as if spasms of pain are ripping through his body, but he says he doesn't hurt. We go outside--oh, and I forget to trip the alarm, so first, we set that off and it scares him, but once I explain what it is and quickly disarm it, he's fine--and I tell him to breathe deeply. It seems to help some, but the shaking grows worse. I am truly frightened now and I am barely able to function. DH comes outside and asks the eldest if he is cold. "Yes," he says. I run inside and start praying, begging, pleading with God to make things ok. I grab the blanket that Aunt Kittye made for us, for him, and I run to the front door with it. DH returns and grabs it from my hand, saying, "I'll call you." I collapse on the floor in tears, sobbing to God. "Please let my baby be ok. Please don't let anything happen to him." I run upstairs and find the number for the emergency room, and call ahead, just in case. The nurse who answers sounds a bit put off by my urgency, but I don't care. She was nice enough. I just want my baby to be fine.
Several minutes pass. I begin typing the story. DH calls and says they've arrived, that they are waiting for the nurse, and that the eldest seems better. Of course, like every other time we have panicked, this time will be the same. They will tell us he is fine, that he has croup or some other such minor illness. I will again feel somewhat silly for sending my sick husband and son to the emergency room at 1:00 a.m. But in my heart, I know that it will always be this way with this boy. I will never be able to take things in stride with him. I will always panic when he is having trouble breathing, or bleeding, or any number of things that might happen to him during his young life. He came so close to being taken away from me once, and I cannot forget that. And it colors my judgement every time he wheezes, every time he cries, every time he feels pain, every time he screams out to me in the middle of the night. I will never be able to think clearly when these things happen, because I will always know what it is like to lose him, and I do not ever want that to happen again.
I'm awakened at 1 a.m. by the sounds of the eldest coughing and calling for me. I enter his room and he says, "Mommy, I'm sick! I'm going to throw up!" I start trying the things that have worked before, start calming him down, DH gets up and starts running the hot water in the tub, but the stridor is on the breathing out and the breathing in. With stupid medical book in hand, I contemplate whether or not this constitutes an emergency. I hear the eldest, calmer now, but still barking like a seal, start to laugh because his voice sounds funny. Hubby says, "Why don't you just call the physician's line and see what they say?" I am not convinced. I hold the eldest on my lap to try to assess the situation more clearly. I feel him start to shake and spasm. He doesn't feel feverish. But he is shaking like he has the chills. I am now able to clearly hear him struggling to exhale as much as he is struggling to inhale. The fear wraps around me and I tell DH to get him in the car, take him to the emergency room. "Do I need to call 911?" I hear myself say, as I try to swallow the panic. DH starts being indecisive and I snap into authoritative mode. I say, "Take him in your car, so you can reach him if anything happens. I don't want him sitting in the back seat of the minivan if something happens." He says, "Let's just call the physician's line and see what they say." "NO! Take him in!" DH starts getting dressed and I take the eldest downstairs, in my arms. He is shaking as if spasms of pain are ripping through his body, but he says he doesn't hurt. We go outside--oh, and I forget to trip the alarm, so first, we set that off and it scares him, but once I explain what it is and quickly disarm it, he's fine--and I tell him to breathe deeply. It seems to help some, but the shaking grows worse. I am truly frightened now and I am barely able to function. DH comes outside and asks the eldest if he is cold. "Yes," he says. I run inside and start praying, begging, pleading with God to make things ok. I grab the blanket that Aunt Kittye made for us, for him, and I run to the front door with it. DH returns and grabs it from my hand, saying, "I'll call you." I collapse on the floor in tears, sobbing to God. "Please let my baby be ok. Please don't let anything happen to him." I run upstairs and find the number for the emergency room, and call ahead, just in case. The nurse who answers sounds a bit put off by my urgency, but I don't care. She was nice enough. I just want my baby to be fine.
Several minutes pass. I begin typing the story. DH calls and says they've arrived, that they are waiting for the nurse, and that the eldest seems better. Of course, like every other time we have panicked, this time will be the same. They will tell us he is fine, that he has croup or some other such minor illness. I will again feel somewhat silly for sending my sick husband and son to the emergency room at 1:00 a.m. But in my heart, I know that it will always be this way with this boy. I will never be able to take things in stride with him. I will always panic when he is having trouble breathing, or bleeding, or any number of things that might happen to him during his young life. He came so close to being taken away from me once, and I cannot forget that. And it colors my judgement every time he wheezes, every time he cries, every time he feels pain, every time he screams out to me in the middle of the night. I will never be able to think clearly when these things happen, because I will always know what it is like to lose him, and I do not ever want that to happen again.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
psychological damage fund
I once heard someone say that they were planning to put a quarter in a jar every time they did something or said something that might potentially damage their childrens' psyches (i.e. yelling at them, locking them in their rooms, spanking). The contents of the jar would then be gifted to their adult children to help pay for therapy.
I'm thinking I should have taken this advice to heart, considering my three-year-old already needs it. Therapy, that is.
Anyone got an antidote for mommy guilt? I've got a bad case.
I'm thinking I should have taken this advice to heart, considering my three-year-old already needs it. Therapy, that is.
Anyone got an antidote for mommy guilt? I've got a bad case.
Monday, August 11, 2008
therapy and medicine
I'm spending some cash and time on my son's behavior issues this week. Tonight was a session with my favorite family therapist, and tomorrow's a doctor's appointment. I'm going to ask her to test him for allergies and sensitivities, so we can rule those things out. I don't think there's anything wrong with my boy, per se, but I do want to help him get a handle on his emotions. He's just so volatile. Wonder where he gets that?
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