Seize the Day.

I should probably be sleeping while the wee one naps, but let's be honest...I can't shut my brain off just yet.

Yesterday was easily the most intense Sunday in Brooks' family record books. At the same time, it was oddly peaceful. For me at least. I'll explain.

Remember when Beckett was 2 days old and he was transported via ambulance and admitted to Cook Children's for 3 days? Yea, that.

Saturday was guys' day at home, so Taylor and my broham watched Beckett while I showered Candace and her soon-to-be-born baby, Gavyn in another city. When I got home that night, I could tell Beckett had a fever and was a little snottier than usual (snot-nosed kids, man. it's so true. all the time.) but I wasn't worried about it.

Yesterday morning he was a little worse but still not really bad, so we stayed home from church playing/whining/sleeping in that order.

My friend Kylie and I hit up a baby shower in the afternoon where someone happened to ask how Beckett was, I happened to tell them he had a little cold, they happened to encourage me to call the doctor since it was flu season, and I happened to do exactly that. Which is when it started getting crazy.

{duh duh duhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.}

I never want to be the mom who takes her kid to the doctor because he might have a sore thumbnail, but I also don't want to be the mom who brings the kid in so late he's way sicker than he would have been if he were treated. It's a surprisingly hard balance, as all parents know. Kids go from normal to deathbed in an average of 3 1/2 minutes. Or something like that.

I called the nurse on call and she made me feel pretty good - made me think it was a cold and we could bring him in on Monday...but then she mentioned red eyes and rapid breathing. Which are the two symptoms I was a little concerned with. "Rapid" sounds bad. He wasn't panic-attack breathing, but he also wasn't sitting-in-my-lounge-chair-chilling-with-the-Fresh-Beats breathing. Somewhere in between.

Long story long (and only beginning), we took him to Cook's Urgent Care just to be on the safe side. He was pretty toasty, but he was acting ok for a while. In fact, right before things took a turn for the traumatic, I was instagramming our life:

Looking back, I should have seen him declining because I kept looking at the pictures thinking, "Man he looks rough...".

As an aside: we were at an urgent care for children. Where children play computer games for children. After a few minutes of Taylor trying to get a field goal on the computer for children, I asked if he thought it might be good to let one of the patients play instead.

He laughed. I laughed. He moved to a chair next to me, I passed Beckett off to him, and a minute or two later Beckett started seizing.

I deal with problems verbally (hence a blog post immediately following these events) and with humor. So, I'm still terrified from the events yesterday, but I also find it a little funny that this is what I was doing moments before he had the seizure.

Seriously...look at his eyes. You can already tell the lights were on but no one was home.

We didn't know what was happening next with him, just that he was no longer on planet earth and the way he was moving was not good, so I ran into the triage area and yelled (movie-style) that we needed help. The doctors and nurses immediately took Beckett back to a room and started checking his vitals. I had to go back for our stuff, and as I scanned the waiting room and tried not to full-on hyperventilate, I made eye contact with the other families waiting. The other kids' eyes were as big as saucers. To their future therapists, I'm sorry. I walked through triage where we'd interrupted another exam and the mom of a little girl mouthed, "I hope he's ok..." as I ran past. I lost it.

The seizure lasted about a minute (according to the medical professional's watches. My mom watch said 4 hours, so...who knows). After-seizure was definitely the worst because he looked brain dead: eyes open, couldn't talk or cry, wasn't moving...it was awful.

Standard protocol is to call 911 immediately to transport the child to a better-equipped ER. I think the EMT crew was eating at Taco Bueno next door or something because they got there within milliseconds.

Throughout the whole seizure, the staff was so. calm. Calm enough that I wanted to scream "ARE YOU LOOKING AT HIM? THIS IS A SERIOUS SITUATION." But they were so calm and so reassuring that, although our son's face was terrifying, we were at as much peace as you can be in that situation. They talked to him like a big boy even though it looked like he couldn't hear, they talked to us like rational humans, not parents on the verge of hysteria, and explained what was happening every step of the way. It was so great.

Watching a 16-month old being loaded onto an ambulance to be transported to Cook Children's for the second time in his life is a little bit funny in a "why does this keep happening to us" kind of a way.

Fast forward: he got fluids on the ambulance, started coming to a little more, and after 5 hours in an ER room, we finally saw a doctor.

With the other symptoms and the fever, they are almost certain he had a febrile (fever-induced) seizure, which is apparently pretty common in kids under 5 when their temperature changes dramatically. His fever shot up to 103.8 and he seized. It happens, I guess.

I'm not the mathematician in our family, but according to my calculations, 5 hours before seeing a doctor + 2 hours waiting on test results + 16 months + wires + no eating or drinking + 1:30 am = brutal.

To recap: he has the flu and an ear infection. We were at the ER until 1:30am, and he was wide-awake the entire time. So he probably has a side of exhaustion that he's refusing to admit.

Last night at home was pretty miserable and today has been rough...but that's to be expected with a sick toddler. A toddler with the flu is really sucky. End of story.

The hardest part about the aftermath has been the seizure highlight reel that keeps playing in our heads - the look in his eye, his tiny body shaking violently, the little eyes of waiting children that are terrified to go to a waiting room again, you know...that highlight reel. Any time Beckett looks tired or even slightly distant, I get panicky thinking it's happening again. Emotionally, it's been terrible.

The best part about it all is how all of the little details were handled. Our friend Steve was forced to spend the night previous to any of this because his car broke (sorry not sorry, Steve), so we didn't have to worry about our dog being let out. Beckett had a seizure at an urgent care center, so, I know I always talk about how he's the smartest kid on the planet, but that's proof, y'all. He waited to seize until he was at the doctor. He's a genius. We got a room in the ER since he came by ambulance, so we avoided the 4+ hour wait in the waiting room before the 5+ hour wait in an ER room. We had friends from our small group wait at the hospital until we heard from a doctor. It was terrifying, but it was peaceful. I truly believe God had a hand in protecting our little one, but also removing the unnecessary worries of the day.

It was dramatic, it was scary, but it happens. And he's good. And we're making it. And I want to hug every mom of an epileptic child because that is scary business. And we're incredibly thankful to have a relatively healthy little boy. God is good. Really, really good.

So that's our Sunday. Once the flu and infection is donezo we'll be golden. But - mark my words - if he spends any more time in an ambulance again before his 2nd birthday, I will be admitted to a mental facility.

With the words and verbal processing out of my mouth/heart/chest/fingers, I feel better. Now I rest. Goodnight.