
It came out of nowhere. Weirdly, William had fallen asleep in my arms, but otherwise he looked fine, so I laid him down for an early nap. It was snowing outside, the start of our promised new and improved blizzard, with the snow from the last one not yet melted.
I was startled when I heard the strange gurgling coming from the bedroom–unearthly noises, ones I’ve unfortunately heard before. I rushed in and there was William, rolling under a blanket, eyes rolled back and white as the snow falling in the window frame. His muscles fired oddly, his fist clenched, slobber bubbling at his mouth.
Panic is a strange thing; it comes on steadily, surely, when your child is not right and beyond your reach. Billy had left his cellphone and was unreachable, but the pediatrician’s answering service called back.
–It could be another febrile seizure, the doctor said. But if he didn’t appear feverish, it could be a sign of meningitis or something worse. Take him to the emergency room.
I didn’t want to call an ambulance, but that’s just what I did after no one else answered their phone. It was slippery out, and I knew I couldn’t drive. In anticipation of the storm, my car was parked at the top of the long gravel drive, blocking any entry. William kept twittering, murmuring, not in full seizure, but not himself either. I was terrified to try to wake him. What if he didn’t wake? I packed a bag of odd things; put on my snow boots; wrapped William in a gray blanket. I left a scrawled note for Billy. I started up the long gravel drive, crunchy with snow.
That was a very long and surreal walk up our gravel driveway. William woke and looked at me with his fierce gaze, as if to say , Why are we even out here, Mama?—him reading the looks of panic and containment fighting on my face. William was not well and it was my responsibility—mine alone at the moment—to make him right again, and that felt like a terrible weight. My arms ached with it. The yard had a dreamlike quality, snow clinging to the branches and some already fallen, littering the white. I stopped under some pine boughs, my arms trembling. Then I looked up, saw the red shininess by the mailbox, a fire truck slowing. I have never in my whole life been so glad to see the paramedics, broad strong men, rushing down toward me in the snow.
About 5 percent of children under 5 years old have fever related febrile seizures. William’s turned out to be just this, again. In most cases, children outgrow these and have no symptoms later in life. Thanks to EMS and the kind folks at Martha Jefferson. Thanks for all yours warm thoughts. You can read more about febrile seizures here.
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