Sleeping monsters

Oh, I want to sleep.

My darling little Monster, after a weekend of alarmingly high fevers, was feeling better yesterday, her birthday. So we took the whole family up to my parents' house and played outside with bubble wands and giant bubble makers and the sprinkler and ran and ran and ran. And she fell asleep just before 7. Like doofuses, neither the husband nor I went to bed until close to 11, and at the stroke of midnight, the Monster was up. "Hi, Daddy! It's almost morning time! Let's get breakfast!" was the husband's greeting. And there was much pleading and cajoling and, I'll admit, threatening with banishment from 'Mama-Dada Bed' if the Monster did not just please, please, please go to sleep. She did, eventually, out of sheer boredom, I would imagine.

I was too tired to really appreciate the complete change over the course of two nights. The first night, Saturday, she had a very high, sudden fever. That had happened once before, nearly a year ago. That was when she had her first ambulance ride.

She had molars coming in, her two-year molars, so I didn't make much of the fever at first. It was a normal, small-child fever. We had a bath, got into jammies, and went onto the couch to 'have nurses,' her term for nursing. We had weaned to only one nursing a day, at night, to put her to sleep. We would eventually move from the night time nurses on the couch to in her bed, to reading books every night. I am glad we aren't nursing to sleep anymore--that means that other people who aren't me (read: the husband) can put her to bed, while I am in the house. (That wasn't even a remote possibility with the prior arrangement.)

We sat down to nurse, and I would normally put a simple puzzle game on the X-station-play-box. I get impatient, and nursing a nearly-two-year-old with a full grill isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, so I would distract myself with a game of some sort. I didn't that night, or I hadn't yet. We sat there, me and my daughter. My Monster. Still a baby, but shedding more and more of that every day for the big girl world. . We sat there, we two, and just looked at each other. She seemed to be doing better, she seemed to be ready to sleep, and I was ready for her to sleep--a toddler is exhausting, and a clingy toddler doubly so. To top it all off, the husband works long shifts, long into the night, so I am on my own most of the time. We sat, and I watched her as her eyes started to close, nursing rhythmically. And then the nursing stopped. Her eyes were open, but not looking at me or at anything, and in my arms, she started shaking and shaking, and I could not stop her. I couldn't stop the seizure.

I called 911, and then my husband. I don't know how long it took for the firemen to get to our house. My husband got home after the emergency vehicles got there, and I can't imagine what it must be like, coming home to flashing lights, knowing that they are there for your little baby. We live in a little community outside of town, and the volunteer fire department is just down the street from us. The firemen are our neighbors. Our house is so small, that three of them, in their gear, filled up my little living room.

They had me lay my Monster down on the floor and take off her pajamas. She had come too, and she was so dazed. I did what the firemen said, and the husband got home. He would follow us in the ambulance. I wrapped her up in the blanket, and with the neighborhood watching, we got into the ambulance.

She was so tiny on the stretcher, under the oxygen mask.

How do we do this? How do people elect to care for such a vulnerable human? Who would choose to risk to have their heart utterly broken? Knowing what absolute pain is very possible and quite likely in so many instances, who would choose this?

We rode to the hospital, under the fluorescent light in the ambulance. When I am in stressful situations, I react inappropriately. I smile. This got me so grounded growing up--my dad was never amused by this quirk, and even less so when he was Very Mad. I was sitting in an ambulance, riding through town, with my baby strapped to a gurney and under an oxygen mask, and I had to keep from smiling. Not out of joy, or enjoyment, but because I honestly can't be in a high stress situation and keep a straight face. Great for lightening the mood when it's appropriate, but not so great for right then.

The Monster had had a febrile seizure. I was familiar with those--my baby sister had those when she was an infant. I hadn't really remembered much of them from when we were growing up. They occur with a sudden, high fever, but can be prevented by keeping the fever low with over the counter medication. I told the Monster that she gets one ambulance ride, and that she had used it up.

We went home that night, and we slept. Her fever broke the next day.

Now I am going to go to bed. I have a Monster who will be awake very early in the morning.

À bientôt, mes petite choux. Beaux rêves.