Last month set us up for a scare when JJ had a febrile seizure for the first time. He had a fever that day, so we decided to give him a bath. After singing and playing merrily along, he grew quiet and refused to get out of the tub. My husband called me into the bathroom to finish bathing him. That was when he went underwater, and appeared to be motionless. I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. I began to panic, and immediately lifted him out of the tub. We called 9-1-1 and the operator asked us a few questions and gave us instructions. When my husband tried opening our son's mouth, he clamped down hard onto his finger. At that moment, we realized he was having a seizure and laid him on his side. I remembered my younger brother going through a seizure when he was a little younger than JJ, and felt slight relief, knowing that he would most likely be okay. The operator calmed us down and had us check for breathing, which he was doing on his own. He began going in and out of consciousness and ended up falling asleep as the paramedics and fire department arrived. The paramedics drove us to the ER, where they checked him out and looked for signs of an infection (which they couldn't find). They concluded that his seizure was caused by a quickly escalating fever, and said that in the future we would need to be more aggressive in alternating between fever reducers to keep his fever down.
That night I could not sleep peacefully, as I replayed the incident over and over in my mind. What would have happened if we left him for more than five minutes? The thought made me feel sick to my stomach. Earlier that morning, JJ had told me he was feeling sad and wanted me to hold him. I held him for a minute and told him I needed to make him breakfast. Looking back, I felt overwhelmed with guilt. If something horrible had happened to my baby, how much regret would I have had for not spending more time holding him while I could? I know I'm being a bit dramatic, but I couldn't help but think about the what if's. All he wanted was for me to be present, and the Lord clearly revealed my constant struggle to be present- not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.
They say on average, most children barely receive 3 minutes of undisrupted time with their parents without distractions (iPhones, laptops, household duties...). It is the sad reality of being part of a tech-media-savvy generation. Being a stay-at-home-mom, I'm physically present all day, and sometimes the endless needs can feel overwhelming. I tend to have a Martha complex when I'm at home, trying to tie all the loose ends to ensure our home is in place and everyone is well fed. However, I am learning (and fighting through) to take the time to fully be in the present, to focus on quality versus quantity. And this carries on over beyond my children, but also in my relationship with God. How difficult it is to sit and be still...
On a side note, other than the ER scare, the transition has been less intense and we are beginning to adapt to the new bebe. JJ thoroughly enjoys spending time with his baby brother, but there are still times when pangs of jealousy arise, as expected. Below are some iPhone (mostly) photos of some of the more pleasant moments...^^
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| My tan bubba ^^ |
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