I will never again look at my son the same way. From the get-go the devil has tried his best to take him out. Trace is Called for big things, I am sure of it. Now, more then ever, I know that God is at work and has His hand on my babies life.
On Wednesday, June 3rd around 5:20pm my 16month year old, healthy baby boy had a febrile seizure.
Here is my story:
Tuesday night Trace wasn't sleeping so well. Jeremy had a business trip in Atlanta, GA and last minute I decided to take the kids and head down with him. We stayed at my Grandmothers and had a very eventful 3 days. I figured he was missing his crib and starting his last round of teething. I added water to what was left of the Tylenol, shook it up and gave it to him along with a little rub of Hurricane. The next morning he was grumpy and not himself, "Normal for teeth," I though to myself, " no biggie. I'll pick up some Tylenol on the way home." I loaded up, said goodbye and headed to the hotel to pick up Jeremy.
When we arrived at the hotel we headed to lunch. Trace was not feeling so well and was getting warm and a little sleepy. I tried giving him an apple to chew on but his lack of interest in food only caused him to throw it up. We boxed up lunch and headed to the room where Trace settled down for a 2 hour nap. He woke up himself ready to play. The three of us headed to the pool; Riley had been waiting ever so patiently!
We all got in and floated a while. Trace, who would have normal been a blast, just sat in his float, arms crossed and head back as if to say, "Mom, I have no energy for this." I headed to a lounge chair, baby on my stomach and once again Trace headed off to sleep.
Daddy, who was suppose to be off at 3 and joining us, came down to let us know that there was now a project to finish and we would be lucky to leave before 7. He held Trace, now burning with fever and miserable, before returning to the conference room. Our conversation sounded somewhat like this:
Jeremy- He's in bad shape!
Me-I know, we have to get him some medicine on the way out. I should have stopped by target on the way here.His teeth hurt dad. All he has done all day is drink cold water and sleep. Poor Riley, I haven't even really got to play with her.
Around 5pm Jeremy called to say he was done and heading down with pizza in hand.
I had already gotten' Riley out of the pool and changed as well as myself. We were sitting with our feet in the pool when Trace, who was bundled up in the stroller, woke up from his third nap of the day. I pulled him from the stroller and laid him on the lounge chair and started to change him. First, I took off his swim suit and then his swimmer diaper and then he jumped, as if a chill came over his little naked body. I called his name, with a, "was that cold sweet boy?" kinda of tone in my voice and smile on my face.What happens next has changed my life forever.
I watched his eyes disappear into the back of his head and his little body stiffen and yet start flapping all over at the same time. I yelled at him, twice. My words were" Trace? Trace! Stop it, stop it!" I knew something was wrong immediately.I through the towel over him, scooped him up and yelled at my 4 year old daughter to not move! With all that happened I remember that so vividly; yelling at Riley to stay there. I remember thinking to myself if I tell her to come on and follow me she could jump up to fast, slip and fall into the pool. Then what would I do? "Stay there!" I said sternly and yet so calmly.
Next, I went running, with baby in hand. I think "Help!" rolled off my lips, but I can't be sure. "Help, my baby, my baby!" I ran inside to the ball room connected to the pool area. I knew there were people setting up in there. I had joked with them only minutes earlier about coming to the party if I could "get rid of theses babies". How I wish those words never had left my tongue. As soon as I swung the door open a tall, skinny black man in an Orange shirt met me there and told me to lay him onto the floor on his side.
I'm not sure the order of the next events or really what was even said. I know that there as a bartender on his cell phone talking to 911. I can hear him say "Please hurry it's just a baby". He was standing to my back left. A tall women in a black suit over my shoulder but far from me was saying she was an epileptic and that I needed to keep anything away from his mouth. A rather heft white man in a blue shirt with tiny glasses in front of me, met me on the floor and told me to uncover my child. Jeremy's screaming voice running up from behind me "What happened, whats going on...oh my God!" Riley in the corner with panic on her face. I reassured her of how brave she was and that I would get her some food soon. All I really 'remember' is that Trace wouldn't look at me. After a minute of seizing his eyes glassed over and stared through me at the wall. I begged him to look at mama. I sang You are my Sunshine and Jesus loves me at random times hoping that in what seemed like an hour the EMS would arrive.
I strangely held it together (as much as I could). I comforted my daughter, calmed my husband, gave information to strangers and willed my son to snap out of it all at the same time and deep down I know I was trusting in God.
Jeremy yelled his name and after 2 minutes of what seemed like a lifeless baby in my arms Trace looked at his daddy and began to whimper. As I look back he seemed so small. His stomach seemed to disappear and I could count each of his little ribs. He gasped for air and his eyes fluttered. His body shook with force and I cried and told him I was there and that that alone would make it okay.
Another image that I will forever see when I close my eyes is the fireman that lifted my baby into his arms and cried as he did his job. An old man, your grandfather, with a heart of gold. He looked into my eyes and said "Lauren, it's gonna be okay." He calmed me in away that made me believe he was Jesus there with me. As we entered the ambulance he handed my child to me. Trace was shaking now only because he was freezing from the water bottles and ice packs they had placed on his bare body. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, but the bumpy ride wouldn't allow it. All I could think was it was my fault. If I had only done this, not done that, on and on I fought with myself. The man in the ambulance was the first person on my road away from guilt-ville to assure me this was not preventable and not my fault.
At the finest children's hospital around (Scottish Rite) we waited not for test or lab work or doctors but only for Trace's temperature to drop. This is what we learned:
A febrile seizure is caused by a high fever. But not by the high temp itself, but by it raising or dropping to fast. The fever itself is caused by a virus and could not have been prevented. What vi ruse? We don't know because there are no other symptoms other than the fever. This type of seizure can't be stopped or treated. The meds they would use to treat it would do more harm that the seizure itself. The scariest thing about these seizures is that in so many cases it causes the caregiver to have a heart attack because they think the child is dying. I did. He now has a 50% chance of having another one during the course of this current virus and from now on with a viral fever. It is genetic meaning that his kids can have them and yet he didn't get them from us. They are common. If he has another one, we let him have it. That's it. We turn him on his side, clear his mouth and wait it out. Wow, I'm not sure how I could do that.
I won't because we have claimed healing!
That very night we were released from the hospital. We went back to the hotel where I proceeded to find every one I could that had helped. I found them and thanked them. I found all but the man in orange. I believe he was my angel. The hardest part now is getting the image of my youngest son out of my head!
God was there in so many ways. In the people and their wisdom. In the location (the children's hospital was across the street from the hotel where it happened). In the intercessory prayer my mother did for him just days before. In the peace that I felt when we were all together in our living room tonight as a family.
I try not to cry as much now. Almost 3 days have past. But today when I was told my daughter asked if Trace was going to Heaven, I couldn't help but cry tears of joy and celebration as I thought to myself, No devil, not yet! Trace is fine. Today he has went right back to his silly, rambunctious self, full of life and spreading smiles around. But I will forever be changed. I can stand with a whole new group of people and say I've been there, I know how you feel. I can stand and once again say My God is greater!
Thank you for your prayers and your heart for my family. Now more than ever they have meant so much.
On Wednesday, June 3rd around 5:20pm my 16month year old, healthy baby boy had a febrile seizure.
Here is my story:
Tuesday night Trace wasn't sleeping so well. Jeremy had a business trip in Atlanta, GA and last minute I decided to take the kids and head down with him. We stayed at my Grandmothers and had a very eventful 3 days. I figured he was missing his crib and starting his last round of teething. I added water to what was left of the Tylenol, shook it up and gave it to him along with a little rub of Hurricane. The next morning he was grumpy and not himself, "Normal for teeth," I though to myself, " no biggie. I'll pick up some Tylenol on the way home." I loaded up, said goodbye and headed to the hotel to pick up Jeremy.
When we arrived at the hotel we headed to lunch. Trace was not feeling so well and was getting warm and a little sleepy. I tried giving him an apple to chew on but his lack of interest in food only caused him to throw it up. We boxed up lunch and headed to the room where Trace settled down for a 2 hour nap. He woke up himself ready to play. The three of us headed to the pool; Riley had been waiting ever so patiently!
We all got in and floated a while. Trace, who would have normal been a blast, just sat in his float, arms crossed and head back as if to say, "Mom, I have no energy for this." I headed to a lounge chair, baby on my stomach and once again Trace headed off to sleep.
Daddy, who was suppose to be off at 3 and joining us, came down to let us know that there was now a project to finish and we would be lucky to leave before 7. He held Trace, now burning with fever and miserable, before returning to the conference room. Our conversation sounded somewhat like this:
Jeremy- He's in bad shape!
Me-I know, we have to get him some medicine on the way out. I should have stopped by target on the way here.His teeth hurt dad. All he has done all day is drink cold water and sleep. Poor Riley, I haven't even really got to play with her.
Around 5pm Jeremy called to say he was done and heading down with pizza in hand.
I had already gotten' Riley out of the pool and changed as well as myself. We were sitting with our feet in the pool when Trace, who was bundled up in the stroller, woke up from his third nap of the day. I pulled him from the stroller and laid him on the lounge chair and started to change him. First, I took off his swim suit and then his swimmer diaper and then he jumped, as if a chill came over his little naked body. I called his name, with a, "was that cold sweet boy?" kinda of tone in my voice and smile on my face.What happens next has changed my life forever.
I watched his eyes disappear into the back of his head and his little body stiffen and yet start flapping all over at the same time. I yelled at him, twice. My words were" Trace? Trace! Stop it, stop it!" I knew something was wrong immediately.I through the towel over him, scooped him up and yelled at my 4 year old daughter to not move! With all that happened I remember that so vividly; yelling at Riley to stay there. I remember thinking to myself if I tell her to come on and follow me she could jump up to fast, slip and fall into the pool. Then what would I do? "Stay there!" I said sternly and yet so calmly.
Next, I went running, with baby in hand. I think "Help!" rolled off my lips, but I can't be sure. "Help, my baby, my baby!" I ran inside to the ball room connected to the pool area. I knew there were people setting up in there. I had joked with them only minutes earlier about coming to the party if I could "get rid of theses babies". How I wish those words never had left my tongue. As soon as I swung the door open a tall, skinny black man in an Orange shirt met me there and told me to lay him onto the floor on his side.
I'm not sure the order of the next events or really what was even said. I know that there as a bartender on his cell phone talking to 911. I can hear him say "Please hurry it's just a baby". He was standing to my back left. A tall women in a black suit over my shoulder but far from me was saying she was an epileptic and that I needed to keep anything away from his mouth. A rather heft white man in a blue shirt with tiny glasses in front of me, met me on the floor and told me to uncover my child. Jeremy's screaming voice running up from behind me "What happened, whats going on...oh my God!" Riley in the corner with panic on her face. I reassured her of how brave she was and that I would get her some food soon. All I really 'remember' is that Trace wouldn't look at me. After a minute of seizing his eyes glassed over and stared through me at the wall. I begged him to look at mama. I sang You are my Sunshine and Jesus loves me at random times hoping that in what seemed like an hour the EMS would arrive.
I strangely held it together (as much as I could). I comforted my daughter, calmed my husband, gave information to strangers and willed my son to snap out of it all at the same time and deep down I know I was trusting in God.
Jeremy yelled his name and after 2 minutes of what seemed like a lifeless baby in my arms Trace looked at his daddy and began to whimper. As I look back he seemed so small. His stomach seemed to disappear and I could count each of his little ribs. He gasped for air and his eyes fluttered. His body shook with force and I cried and told him I was there and that that alone would make it okay.
Another image that I will forever see when I close my eyes is the fireman that lifted my baby into his arms and cried as he did his job. An old man, your grandfather, with a heart of gold. He looked into my eyes and said "Lauren, it's gonna be okay." He calmed me in away that made me believe he was Jesus there with me. As we entered the ambulance he handed my child to me. Trace was shaking now only because he was freezing from the water bottles and ice packs they had placed on his bare body. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, but the bumpy ride wouldn't allow it. All I could think was it was my fault. If I had only done this, not done that, on and on I fought with myself. The man in the ambulance was the first person on my road away from guilt-ville to assure me this was not preventable and not my fault.
At the finest children's hospital around (Scottish Rite) we waited not for test or lab work or doctors but only for Trace's temperature to drop. This is what we learned:
A febrile seizure is caused by a high fever. But not by the high temp itself, but by it raising or dropping to fast. The fever itself is caused by a virus and could not have been prevented. What vi ruse? We don't know because there are no other symptoms other than the fever. This type of seizure can't be stopped or treated. The meds they would use to treat it would do more harm that the seizure itself. The scariest thing about these seizures is that in so many cases it causes the caregiver to have a heart attack because they think the child is dying. I did. He now has a 50% chance of having another one during the course of this current virus and from now on with a viral fever. It is genetic meaning that his kids can have them and yet he didn't get them from us. They are common. If he has another one, we let him have it. That's it. We turn him on his side, clear his mouth and wait it out. Wow, I'm not sure how I could do that.
I won't because we have claimed healing!
That very night we were released from the hospital. We went back to the hotel where I proceeded to find every one I could that had helped. I found them and thanked them. I found all but the man in orange. I believe he was my angel. The hardest part now is getting the image of my youngest son out of my head!
God was there in so many ways. In the people and their wisdom. In the location (the children's hospital was across the street from the hotel where it happened). In the intercessory prayer my mother did for him just days before. In the peace that I felt when we were all together in our living room tonight as a family.
I try not to cry as much now. Almost 3 days have past. But today when I was told my daughter asked if Trace was going to Heaven, I couldn't help but cry tears of joy and celebration as I thought to myself, No devil, not yet! Trace is fine. Today he has went right back to his silly, rambunctious self, full of life and spreading smiles around. But I will forever be changed. I can stand with a whole new group of people and say I've been there, I know how you feel. I can stand and once again say My God is greater!
Thank you for your prayers and your heart for my family. Now more than ever they have meant so much.
Lauren - I am sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks, because I just read about what happened to Trace. I am so thankful that everything turned out well - and I am standing with you guys in claiming Trace's healing! Thank you for sharing your story.
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness, as I read your story I put myself in your place and Carter in Trace's and I just have to tell you that you are so brave. I think I held my breath the whole time I read it. It's obvious that God was working and calming you the entire time because I know you had to have been frantic inside. I'm so glad that this heart-wrenching story had a happy ending! I love you guys!
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