not so happy father's day

This is a sad post. But I have to keep reminding myself that motherhood (parenthood) has its sadness and happiness. How would we know the happiness of feeling well if we don't know the sheer pain of feeling unwell?

My sweet baby was sick this weekend. Our normally active, talkative, and non-stop little man was lethargic, whimpering, and still.

He acted strange on Saturday at the one-year birthday party for our childbirthing class babies. It was an awesome time! Although there was a cake for the little ones, splash pool, bubbles, plenty of food and chatter, Wesley was glued to mom and didn't enjoy crawling around or pushing the Tigger airplane toy (a surprise for sure!).

At home that night, we thought he was playing with his Choo-Choo in the living room, but when we took a closer look, we discovered he was actually laying on his tummy, with his little hand pushing the toy's "On" button over and over. He just sat there, like he was trying to convince himself, "must play, must play." Our initial thought was that he was just really tired, but when we got him ready for bed we discovered he was burning up -- and had a temperature of 102.

He didn't sleep well at all (our 12-plus-hours-at-a-time baby was up every hour or half-hour, so it was some serious awfulness for all parties), and he had the same temperature Sunday morning. We decided to make an appointment at Children's Hospital's Urgent Care clinic. The earliest we could get was 1 p.m. in Bellevue.

Until then, one of us laid on the couch with him, tummy to tummy, and he just whimpered. It was just so sad! He wouldn't eat anything. The only nutrition he was getting was from nursing, which seemed to be the only thing to comfort him.

The clinic was running late, so we sat patiently. When we finally saw the doctor and rattled off his symptoms (fever, loss of appetite, lethargy, weird poops!, trouble sleeping), she was concerned it was an intestinal blockage sort of thing (which I guess is very common for babies his age) and sent us to the Seattle Children's Hospital Emergency Room! Gah!

There wasn't much excitement in the ER at 2 p.m., so we got right in. We explained his story for the umpteenth time, and the doctors had a number of things they wanted to test for: intestinal thing, ear infection, bladder infection, appendicitis!, meningitis, and on and on.

Unfortunately, diagnostics aren't fun at all. X-rays came first, which were the least of our troubles. Next came a urine sample and blood sample, which required an IV that took FOUR TRIES to hit a vein. By this point Wesley was super dehydrated, so he was even more irritable and his little veins weren't cooperating.

That was the hardest part of all this. To be there, trying to hold the little guy still, while they worked as hard as they could to make him feel better, although it hurt. No mother should ever have to go through what I went through. We cried together.

I thought about taking a picture of him in his cute little hospital gown, with his "boot" (that's what we called the IV contraption and everything taped to his ankle), but then I decided against it. I really don't want to remember this. I want to forget the pain in his voice and the hurt in his eyes.

The doctors and nurses started ruling out all the possible afflictions one by one, and finally gave us permission to feed him. With saline coming in the IV and food in his belly, he perked up. His fever broke slightly, and he started to seem more like his old self.

By this time, it was getting late.... 7, 8, 9 p.m., and not only was he acting more like his old self, he was acting more like his old tired self, who was up way past his bedtime. Basically the doctor said, "Look, we have no idea what it was. What's important is that he's feeling better. You can stay in the hospital overnight and we'll make sure he keeps down his dinner, but he probably won't get any sleep and it won't be normal for you, so you could just go home and come back if he takes a turn for the worse." We said, hmmm, thanks but no thanks, and went home.

We may never know what it was. All I know is that it went away. He had a slight fever Monday morning, and I took him into the pediatrician to make sure she knew what was going on and to see what she thought. She said what the doctors said previously, that it could have just been a 12- or 24-hour virus or something, coupled with dehydration. Liquids, baby ibuprofen, and rest seemed to fix it. (Plus, his poops got more normal! Ahh my life.)

This has been a tough experience for me, but truly I've learned more about what it means to be a mom. Specifically:

• I posted an update on Facebook to see if any of our other friends had sick babies (something going around?) and one of my older friends commented that it's definitely hard for moms to see their children -- small and big -- go through this. That really hit me. Wesley's going to encounter pain for his entire life, and every minute I'll be by his side, fighting for him, wishing it better.
• This has really made me think about how amazing our bodies are, and how I'm so grateful that something worked in Wesley's little body on Sunday. I would have done anything to change places with him. No child should ever have to go through that. But through the miracles of the human body (and to some extent, medicine), he is better.
• I need to be praying for my son. Every day, several times a day, I need to make sure I am on my knees pleading with my Heavenly Father to watch over him and guide him and protect him and HELP ME be a better mother. It was an answer to my sincere prayer that this experience is over. But now we start again. There will be many more times in his life where his mother's prayers on his behalf will be needed, I'm sure.
• As I have been taking care of him these last couple days (he still has a tiny fever), Shane encouraged me to be patient with Wesley because he's still not himself. And I do find myself being impatient! I get irritated at why he won't settle down, why he is clingy at times, why he refuses to eat, why he fusses and I don't understand. I need to be more patient, because he's feeling funny and not knowing why. I have to consciously try to do this.

My sweet little man. I believe we are a stronger family after all this. I know Shane struggled as well with this whole crazy-hospital-adventure. I told Shane we'll have a Father's Day Do-Over next Sunday, so he'll get breakfast in bed and whatever he wants for dinner.

So that was our weekend. I hate not knowing what got our little man down, but I'm glad it's over. I guess never knew how much I appreciated "normal."

(P.S. Dad, if you're reading this, it's why I didn't call! I'm sorry! I love you!)