Story Time
Dec. 6th, 2010 11:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trickykittyTwo days ago I was downloading pictures from my phone. In the meantime, I was enjoying a trip down nostalgia lane looking at old baby pictures of my eldest nephew. I wasn't around a lot for nephew #2, which means he took a while to really warm up to me. Knowing Baby #3 is on his way, I figured it was good to remind myself of how much time I need to spend bonding with baby.
When my eldest nephew was born I was still living with my parents, and with my sister out in the wilderness more than three-fourths the time, I played surrogate mother. This meant he spent most of his first two years in my room, crawling around under my chairs, and playing with the box of "toys" I had for him - unwanted items that I was trying to find homes for, but they became great fun for him so I left the box alone. I walked him to sleep more times than I can count by walking back and fourth past the banister that he would stare at while I sung to him. Despite having my bedroom door closed at night, I always woke up when he cried because I'm such a damned light sleeper. Between my parents and I, we usually just took turns based on who got to him first, but since I always woke up first, that was usually me. To say I bonded pretty deeply with baby #1, and he with me, is an understatement. It broke my heart when I chose to move to Arlington to finish my degree. By the time #2 had arrived, I was only at the house about 1 day a week to do laundry and hang out with the boys. For #2, I was more of a stranger for the first couple of years, versus #1 who would cry bloody murder every time I had to leave again to head back to my apartment.
It's because of the differences between reactions for the two nephews for that period of time that I would rather not be away as much as I was with #2. He took a good year or so before he finally started to not shy away when I went to give him goodbye hugs, and now he's the first to come running to greet me when I'm walking up to the house. Still, I'm hoping I can make more time with all of the boys than I have been recently. If nothing else, it's definitely time I started back up on our weekly movie night that kind of fell by the wayside a while back.
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The worst feeling in the world is of a dying child.
There was a incident with #1 while I was still living at home. For a while, the boy was running a fever, but never showed any other symptoms. He was happy, playful, no problems breathing or nose running. This went on for a couple weeks, and a doctor visit came up without any further diagnosis. One night, my parents noticed his temp spiking, so they began drawing a bath to cool him down. Next thing I know, my mother is yelling, "OMG, OMG, Call 911, he's stopped breathing!" He just stopped breathing and went limp just as they were about to lower him into the bath.
All of my YMCA training kicked in, and since I already knew the pertinent details I instantly got on the phone which was right there next to me at my desk. I got the operator on the phone and began giving our address and details. My mom then ran into my room and was pushing me off the phone to go do CPR. (I'm always the calm one in an emergency, and dad doesn't know CPR, so mom decided it best to switch places - she was more or less freezing up at that moment.) I handed the phone to her and reminded her to stay on the phone until the operator says it's ok to get off. I ran into the bathroom and that's when my heart stopped pounding. His face was already turning blue, and I had to hold back any initial thoughts or emotions in order to focus on the CPR. It was the hardest three minutes of my life. I was beginning the test for a pulse when he began breathing again on his own and actually woke up. He was dazed, but otherwise not crying or anything. I went to tell mom the update for the 911 operator and then went outside to flag the ambulance.
The EMTs (one of which was a guy I knew in high school and he recognized me - odd timing and all) confirmed the temp and that his other vitals were fine. He was actually being goofy what with all the attention he was getting. My parents opted to take him to the emergency room themselves instead of by ambulance, but they were kind enough to call ahead his info to help speed the process. The boy was running around playing, and you never would have known that he even had a temperature. A couple hours later, x-rays confirmed he had walking pneumonia. The temperature spike had caused a mild seizure, which in turn caused the non-breathing.
Since that incident, he's had at least one other temperature-induced seizure. At least the second time my parents were more aware of how to handle it since I wasn't around for it.
I can still picture my nephew's body on the ground in the bathroom, blue faced, and all the thoughts that were trying to push their way into my mind at that moment. I hope I never have to feel that ever again.
When my eldest nephew was born I was still living with my parents, and with my sister out in the wilderness more than three-fourths the time, I played surrogate mother. This meant he spent most of his first two years in my room, crawling around under my chairs, and playing with the box of "toys" I had for him - unwanted items that I was trying to find homes for, but they became great fun for him so I left the box alone. I walked him to sleep more times than I can count by walking back and fourth past the banister that he would stare at while I sung to him. Despite having my bedroom door closed at night, I always woke up when he cried because I'm such a damned light sleeper. Between my parents and I, we usually just took turns based on who got to him first, but since I always woke up first, that was usually me. To say I bonded pretty deeply with baby #1, and he with me, is an understatement. It broke my heart when I chose to move to Arlington to finish my degree. By the time #2 had arrived, I was only at the house about 1 day a week to do laundry and hang out with the boys. For #2, I was more of a stranger for the first couple of years, versus #1 who would cry bloody murder every time I had to leave again to head back to my apartment.
It's because of the differences between reactions for the two nephews for that period of time that I would rather not be away as much as I was with #2. He took a good year or so before he finally started to not shy away when I went to give him goodbye hugs, and now he's the first to come running to greet me when I'm walking up to the house. Still, I'm hoping I can make more time with all of the boys than I have been recently. If nothing else, it's definitely time I started back up on our weekly movie night that kind of fell by the wayside a while back.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The worst feeling in the world is of a dying child.
There was a incident with #1 while I was still living at home. For a while, the boy was running a fever, but never showed any other symptoms. He was happy, playful, no problems breathing or nose running. This went on for a couple weeks, and a doctor visit came up without any further diagnosis. One night, my parents noticed his temp spiking, so they began drawing a bath to cool him down. Next thing I know, my mother is yelling, "OMG, OMG, Call 911, he's stopped breathing!" He just stopped breathing and went limp just as they were about to lower him into the bath.
All of my YMCA training kicked in, and since I already knew the pertinent details I instantly got on the phone which was right there next to me at my desk. I got the operator on the phone and began giving our address and details. My mom then ran into my room and was pushing me off the phone to go do CPR. (I'm always the calm one in an emergency, and dad doesn't know CPR, so mom decided it best to switch places - she was more or less freezing up at that moment.) I handed the phone to her and reminded her to stay on the phone until the operator says it's ok to get off. I ran into the bathroom and that's when my heart stopped pounding. His face was already turning blue, and I had to hold back any initial thoughts or emotions in order to focus on the CPR. It was the hardest three minutes of my life. I was beginning the test for a pulse when he began breathing again on his own and actually woke up. He was dazed, but otherwise not crying or anything. I went to tell mom the update for the 911 operator and then went outside to flag the ambulance.
The EMTs (one of which was a guy I knew in high school and he recognized me - odd timing and all) confirmed the temp and that his other vitals were fine. He was actually being goofy what with all the attention he was getting. My parents opted to take him to the emergency room themselves instead of by ambulance, but they were kind enough to call ahead his info to help speed the process. The boy was running around playing, and you never would have known that he even had a temperature. A couple hours later, x-rays confirmed he had walking pneumonia. The temperature spike had caused a mild seizure, which in turn caused the non-breathing.
Since that incident, he's had at least one other temperature-induced seizure. At least the second time my parents were more aware of how to handle it since I wasn't around for it.
I can still picture my nephew's body on the ground in the bathroom, blue faced, and all the thoughts that were trying to push their way into my mind at that moment. I hope I never have to feel that ever again.
