I was awoken to the sound of my son's cry. Being only 3 weeks old I assumed he was hungry. But when I went to check on him, he was perfectly still and quiet. I was a little surprised that he had gone back to sleep so quickly and figured I would just get him up anyway since I was sure the quiet wouldn't last. When I lifted him out of the crib, everything fell back - his arms, his legs, his head. Something was wrong. I quickly laid his body on the changing pad and unbuttoned his sleeper, a surefire way to arouse his angry side. But there was nothing, no change. He simply lay there, peacefully unmoving. I inspected him. His color was good; when I put my ear on his chest, I could feel his chest moving. He was breathing. I took a wet wipe, another infallible trick to wake him, but still there was nothing. No movement, no change. I shook him but still nothing. I ran out to my husband, asleep with my too-early-of-a-riser daughter on the couch, and told him my concern. He, too, tried to wake up our son but, again, nothing. There was just nothing.
I'm not sure we even communicated our intentions but we both took off. We gathered up the kids, threw them in the car, and raced off to the hospital only 3 miles away. It was 5am on a Saturday so the streets were ours. We hit a pothole in the road and I heard the sweetest sound. He cried. From the back seat, he cried. It was the greatest relief I had ever felt.
As we rushed into the ER, the nurses immediately took him, placed him on a gurney, and got to work. We did an x-ray, talked with the doctor, but one nurse, in particular, discovered that he had low oxygen by pressing on his fingernails. They immediately got him some oxygen and his color soon began getting better. All the nurses took to him so I chatted, finally feeling somewhat calm, with everyone. We got the news that we were being transferred to their sister hospital because it was more equipped to handle situations if anything happened to get worse. So off we went. It was my first ambulance ride. Me, strapped onto a gurney, holding my baby in my arms while simultaneously holding a blow-by, a Styrofoam cup aiming oxygen at his little 3 week old face. My husband was following behind in our car.
When we got to the ER at the other hospital, everything went wrong. They first discovered that his body temperature was way too cold. It suddenly became chaotic as they ripped off his sleeper and brought over a warmer. Having just had a baby 3 weeks prior, my hormones were a bit out of control. I remember this doctor trying to talk to me, ask me questions. I honestly tried to focus, be the helpful mother. But as more and more people started swarming, I broke down. I just lost it. I looked over to see one of the paramedics, a young girl, looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy.
They put us into a sort of holding area where my son was monitored as we waited for a room in the Pediatric ICU to open up. It was then that they discovered that my son's CO2 was exponentially higher than it should have been. They had to intubate.
I thought I had fallen apart by this point but the wave of emotion that hit me was like no other. Soon people were coming out of the woodwork to watch my son be intubated. Seeing as this was a teaching hospital, apparently intubating a 3 week old baby was a interesting learning experience. While the staff prepped him, I sat in the bathroom down the hall and pumped. And cried. There was nothing else I could do.
When I came out, my husband watched the procedure taking place from afar. I couldn't. I paced the hallway, sobbing uncontrollably, my postpartum emotions running away with me. People kept asking me if I was ok and I would just wave them off. What else was I supposed to do, say? It was then that a nurse grabbed me around the shoulders and paced with me. She didn't say much other than to tell me that it was going to be ok. But she paced with me, hugging me tightly. I wish I could remember her face or that I had gotten her name. Whoever this woman is, I am forever grateful for her kindness.
That night was the worst of my life. As we sat in the Pediatric ICU, we watched as my son's oxygen level dropped time and time again. Each time they had to take him of the vent and bag him. Each time, I felt like we were going to lose him. Even the ICU doctor stayed the night because my boy was so unstable. I can't even describe the terror I felt. You can only understand if you've experienced it yourself. And I pray you haven't.
Over the course of the next few days, we ran test after test, talked to various specialists but everything came back as negative. In the end, the doctors chalked the whole episode up to a viral infection, an infection that his 3 week old body wasn't strong enough to fight without help. Slowly but surely, the virus ran its course and slowly but surely, my boy became more stable.
I look back at this time and I still consider it the most awful of my life. Since then, we've lived through other diagnoses, a house flood that carried away even my car, many life changes. But that night, the night we almost lost him, can never be forgotten.
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