The Day I Could Have Lost My Son

Finally headed home 🙂

Fall is just around the corner. I love this time of year. Although for the past few years this time has reminded me of a very difficult fall. The fall of 2009 when my oldest son got sick.

It was just after Halloween. I look back now at the adorable pictures of my then three-year old wearing his fireman costume. We had no idea what was just on the horizon.

It started out like anything else. He had a fever and not much appetite. Could have been a hundred things. After a day I took him to the pediatrician. If you recall that was the year of the swine flu outbreak. Everyone was so afraid of that diagnosis.

The doctor checked him out and administered the usual tests: flu and strep. Both were negative. His lungs sounded clear. She did say that the flu tests had not been that accurate. For the time being I was to take him home and keep an eye on him. If his symptoms got worse, give her a call. So that is what I did.

He kept the fever and appetite loss. This went on for two more days. On day three though I noticed a change. He became lethargic. All he wanted to do was lie around. Mostly on me. So uncharacteristic of him. He kept moaning “Mommy, Mommy” over and over. I knew something was terribly wrong.

I immediately picked up the phone and called his dad. I needed him to come home and help get our daughter from school. He said he was headed our way. He knew I did not ask for help often. He too knew something was wrong.

Next I called the pediatrician. I explained my feeling to a nurse. That something was wrong. She put me on hold to talk to the doctor. When I heard the doctor’s voice come on the phone, I wasn’t prepared for what she was about to say.

I needed to immediately go, not to her office, not to our local hospital but straight to Vanderbilt Children’s hospital. Straight to Nashville. She too felt this was serious.

Luckily as I hung up the phone my husband pulled up. I am not the best with scary news and he knew his way around Nashville much better. I handed him our three-year old son. He was headed to Nashville. Immediately. He understood the seriousness of the situation and he loves him as much as I do. I knew he would get him there as fast and safely as possible.

I jumped in the other car and headed to the school to pick up my daughter. I also had my two younger children with me. One was just a baby. We immediately headed to the hospital. I was his mother. I had to be there.

Grandma was called at this point. She began the two-hour trip to come help with the other kids. She wanted to be there too.

Once at the hospital tests were ran. My little man just lied there. He was hooked up to monitors and an IV. Then the diagnosis came. He had pneumonia. Except not just any pneumonia. The worst 2% kind of pneumonia. His lung was very sick. He was being admitted.

After three days of some heavy-duty antibiotics it was decided that he needed surgery. His little body was not able to clear the infection on its own. I was terrified. This was the time when children all over the world were dying from swine flu. His pneumonia could have started with the flu. There was no way to be sure.

What struck me most is just how tough he was. At age three he didn’t complain and only cried when a new IV had to be inserted. This is why I often refer to him as my little tough guy. He earned that title. He did whatever was asked of him. He didn’t even really understand what was going on.

Surgery day arrived. Watching him being sedated and then rolled away into the surgical room was the absolute scariest moment I have ever experienced as a parent. I felt so helpless. His life was now in their hands.

Our family sat in the waiting room. We were there with all of the other families. Then it struck me. Everyone in there had a sick child. I heard a helicopter land on top of the hospital. In that moment I was so grateful that it was not carrying one of my children. There was still so much to be thankful for.

Finally surgery was over. I walked into the recovery room. There he was. He was still very groggy and on oxygen. The nurse said she had to get him off the oxygen. He had to fill his little lung with air again. She removed his air line and he struggled. He wouldn’t breathe. It hurt too much. She had to put it back.

I told him that I really needed him to try to cough. He had been so tough and had fought so hard. I needed one more thing from him. I didn’t tell him in that moment that I would do it for him if I could. I would have gladly taken all of this in his place. It was breaking my heart to watch him struggle. I fought back tears.

Instead I looked into his eyes. He understood that we could do it. Together. Then being the brave little man that he was he learned forward and he finally began to cough. Instantly his vitals improved. He was breathing on his own. In that moment I knew he was going to be okay.

My son was in the hospital for ten days. He came through it like a champ. On the day that we were finally able to take him home he was practically a skeleton with skin. His eyes were dark and sunken. He had lost a lot of weight. Even with that, he was going to be okay.

I am still grateful to the staff at Vanderbilt. I am also grateful to his pediatrician. She saved his life as well. I am grateful to my husband for delivering him there. We were later told that if we had brought him in even six hours later, he may not have made it. He was that sick.

I am grateful that my son was able to come home. I often wonder how many of those mothers sitting in that waiting room that day had children who didn’t recover. How many still have sick children? I have been so blessed with four healthy children.

I say this as a mother. Always follow your gut. If YOU feel like something is wrong act immediately. Don’t wait or second guess. No one knows your child better than you. No one will fight for your child quite like you. That is why YOU are his mother.

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