There is no manual to motherhood.
There’s no set of instructions to prepare you emotionally when you’re the parent of a child with a medical disorder.
There’s nothing that can stop you from crying as you watch a team of nurses strap your 2-year-old into what is essentially a “baby straight jacket” as they prepare his IV and begin a multitude of tests and swabs.
There’s no sense of ease as you sit in an uncomfortable plastic chair in a tiny ER room, watching as your son’s little, worn our body rests fitfully, your mind all over the place, wondering where you went wrong.
This was yesterday. Hudson spiked a fever of 104 degrees without warning overnight. I woke up to my sweet boy covered in sweat, crying and moaning and clinging to me when just hours before, he was running full tilt around the house, full of laughter, not a care in the world.
After following our emergency protocol (giving him an extra dose of his daily meds, a dose of Tylenol, and a couple quick cups of Pedialyte), we raced to our local ER where he underwent a Covid, strep and flu test and had his blood work taken to check his basic levels, including his sodium and glucose.
As this was happening, my sweet boy cried out for me repeatedly, arms stretched out towards me, face stained with tears and terror as he begged me to lift him out of the hospital bed and into my arms, a refuge of comfort, a source of warmth and safety.
Every test came back negative and his levels were within normal range.
His cheeks were bright red and he was passed out, pic line in arm, when his fever finally broke. A urine bag had been placed in his diaper so they could test a sample for any signs of infection.
After a few hours, he still hadn’t urinated, so talks of a catheter began.
“That’s gonna be hard on both of you, mama,” said one of the nurses. “I really hope we can avoid it.”
By the grace of God, Hudson was able to produce a sample on his own and an hour later, with one more negative test under our belt, we were released.
Hud slept the rest of the day and if you know my mini Tasmanian devil, you know this was very unlike him! By evening, he was awake, perked up and playing and today, he’s completely back to normal and continues to be fever free.
The doctors diagnosed him with a sinus infection and assumed the high fever was due his inability to fight off sicknesses as well as the average child.
I was tested, y’all. I walked out of those hospital doors both anxious and thankful, overwhelmed and full of joy.
I was put on this earth for this boy right here. He is the love of my life, the light of my soul. Being his mama, and handling his medical care to the best of my abilities, is at times challenging but always rewarding.
I woke up today feeling like a warrior.
I’ll always fight for you, baby boy.
Thank you for making me stronger.
One day, maybe I’ll be as strong as you. ❤️
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