From Monday Mom – Neetika:
Thank you for your patience, those who regularly follow this blog, with my absence the last few weeks. I am so happy to be back sharing my recent journey with you, because it means the terrible experience that kept me away is finally over.
Hudson developed a cold on Christmas. We didn’t think much of it, but by the next day, it was bad. Since we were visiting with the grandparents, we took him to the pediatrician we used to go to when we lived there. She told us to go right to the hospital– that he had bronchiolitis, which causes inflammation in the airways and difficulty breathing–and that it was a very dangerous condition for a three month old with little lungs.
They saw us right away in the Emergency Room, and I felt confident that he would receive thorough, straightforward care and that we’d be on our way– in a day or two, tops. I had no idea what we were in for.
We were technically admitted but had to stay in that tiny ER room overnight because there was no space for us upstairs. The staff told us that a machine required to treat Hudson was only used in the ICU, so that’s where we’d have to go. I was thinking at this point that us being in the ICU was a mere technicality. I was pleased because I knew that the ICU provides the very best care, and we were at a renowned children’s hospital. A few doctors mentioned that as they monitored Hudson, there was always the possibility that he would need a breathing tube. There had been so many indications that Hudson might not even be admitted to the hospital to begin with, so I never took that seriously. I should have. Four days later, he was on a ventilator.
It was as awful as you can imagine. I was so worried about my son. I knew that the doctors were excellent, that they did this all the time (much more often than I ever realized), and that he just had to go through the process. But it’s horrifying to see your child sedated and covered in tubes. He and I were at the hospital for three weeks total. After two, I said to my husband, I can’t do this anymore. It’s too hard. I can’t take it. But I kept going. I had no choice.
I’ll spare you the details of Hudson’s course of treatment– I have a huge body of knowledge about respiratory illness in infants in intensive care which I hope to never use again. He is back home and doing wonderfully, and that’s what matters. He should not have any lasting issues.
I, on the other hand, will need some time to process the scary situation we survived.
Our kids are tougher than we think. And so are we.