Instead of a white onesie with a cute little “10 months” sticker, this time around, we took his monthly picture wearing the most heartbreaking tiny green hospital gown. Benny spent the first night of his 10th month behind curtain number 38 at Good Samaritan Hospital with a fever of 104.8.
It came on out of nowhere at bedtime on Thursday and through the night his fever steadily rose, despite the Tylenol and Motrin I was giving him. He spent Friday morning with his grandma until we could get an appointment with his pediatrician at 1:45. I explained his symptoms as he laid in a lethargic heap on my chest, burning hot and too weak to lift his head or cry. She took his temperature and sent us straight to the ER. To be honest, I don’t know how I managed to get us there in one piece through hysterical tears.
The whole ordeal lasted approximately 6 hours. My sweet little boy was subjected to 5 separate temperature readings (and if you know how they take a baby’s temperature at the hospital, you know how traumatizing that alone was for him), countless blood tests, a chest x-ray. They swabbed his tiny nose for a flu culture and inserted an IV which ripped my heart right out of my chest.
They gave him fluids for dehydration and we had to wait hours for him to pee into this bag that was taped under his diaper so they could do a urine test. Meanwhile, my sweet angel just snuggled in our laps, alternating between sleeping and whimpering.
The tests finally came back and told us little more than that his white blood cell count was slightly elevated so he got an infusion of antibiotics and by the time we left the hospital at almost 8pm, his temperature was back to 98.6 and he was more exhausted than I have ever seen him.
My little boy is the strongest, most resilient, amazing little person I have ever had the honor of knowing. By Sunday afternoon, he was back to his sweet, troublemaking self, crawling around the living room with an impish grin getting into mischief.
So we missed out on month 10 of his sticker pictures, which I will probably still take, just a few days late, which you know makes my OCD twitch a little bit. What we got instead was a dose of reality and a big helping of heartbreak but that little boy of mine? He is my hero. And I love him with every bit of my overwhelmed, emotionally exhausted and very, very thankful heart.