The last 72 hours....

Have been the hardest of my life.  My sweet, fragile little boy woke up at 4:00 a.m. Tuesday morning running 101.2 temperature. I called Telecare (our local hospital help) and they said I needed to bring him to the ER. That's when the tears started.  I lost it.  For some reason, I just thought they would tell me to bring him to the doctor in the morning.  When we got to the ER his temperature read 101.5 and the ER doctor immediately told me the plan of action - which was not good.  It included lots of pricks and machines, including a spinal tap. Needless to say, I couldn't see straight through all of my tears.  The results from the spinal tap came pretty quickly and the news was not good - meningitis.  My tears turned more to a flood at that point and I immediately blamed myself. My thoughts were that I got him out too soon, exposed him to other people to quickly, etc.  The nurses and doctors assured me it wasn't my fault, but as a mommy, my job is to protect my babies and I felt like I had failed him.  About 10 minutes later our pediatrician (which I could never repay for his prompt response to phone calls in the middle of the night and his constant care and concern) showed up, read the results and clarified that it was not meningitis.  Praise the Lord. Our prayers had been answered.

We eventually found out he would need to be admitted. Here he is being wheeled to his room.

Once we got to his room he received an IV, which was also heart wrenching. His little veins are so small that they were almost certain they were going to have to do a scalp IV (in his head).  I again lost it and the thought of having a needle stuck in my precious baby's head was too much for this mommy to handle. Wes went back with the nurses to a different room and I stayed behind.  Luckily, an awesome pediatric nurse was able to get his IV in his arm. Praise the Lord - another prayer answered. 

Once we got "settled" and many tears cried, we tried to get some rest.  It's practically impossible to rest in a hospital, and even more so when your 19 day old child is next to you suffering.  The lack of sleep definitely took an emotional toll on me and I knew I needed some rest, but my mind wouldn't shut down. The events of the day kept replaying in my head and I think after a while I finally dozed off.  I was awaken to many nurses coming in and out, with news that his temp got up to 102.1. Another scary time for me.

Blood was drawn throughout his stay and revealed nothing too alarming, just an unknown virus that was causing high fever.  His fever has been up and down and continues to spike at times, but Praise the Lord - he was able to come home.  Another answered prayer. One more minute in that hospital would have killed me.  He's resting so much better here at home already. 

All of the prayers, notes, texts, encouragement from everyone is truly what sustained us through our stay at the hospital.  It seems as if each time we would pray we were at a loss for words. It was so nice to know that our friends were interceding for us.  Even though we are back home, the fight isn't quite over.  Ethan is tired and still sick. It might be a little journey to recovery, but we are so thankful to be on that road.

Strong and Firm - I think we chose Ethan's name accordingly.  Praise the Lord, for He is GOOD.