seizure in the snow
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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test Filed under drawings, family matters, motherhood | Tags: febrile seizures | Comments (11)11 Responses to “seizure in the snow”
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So glad it was nothing worse, but how terrifying for you! I love “William woke and looked at me with his fierce gaze…”–so perfectly descriptive of that intense look he gives (I used to get it from the stroller when I would stop to talk to you and/or Billy on the street.).
yikes scary. all good now. i am glad! when you write abut something so traumatic, i wonder if it makes the memory easier to contend with.
I’m so glad he’s alright and hope your heart has resumed a normal beat. One of my nephews suffered several febrile seizures as well, but did outgrown them around five. I hope William does too. They are so very terrifying.
There is nothing so terrifying as watching your child in need and not being able to help him…to not be able to honor the tacit mama promise to always make everything okay. Nothing is as raw…as visceral….You capture this desperation so beautifully, it hurts.
So sorry to hear this. But so glad that he is ok. Strong mama’s breed strong boys.
Oh how scary. Your narrative, as always, captures that feeling of sheer panic and utter responsibility of being mama to a sick little one. Glad that all are now well. Take good care.
I cried when I read your entry. How frightening for you! You responded perfectly like the wonderful strong mother you are. I am so proud of you!
so so scary. glad he is okay. your writing painted the panic.
Jocelyn–so, so glad he’s okay. Stay warm and cozy tonight as more of the snow comes down.
Oh wow, how frightening! I am so happy that William is alright… I think you reacted perfectly. Wonderful mommy.
You all are in our thoughts.
Jason