RSV

Well, the dreaded RSV has finally caught up to us. Around midnight on Tuesday Hunter really started to crash after a couple days of illness. His sats were in the toilet (mid to low 70's) and he was wheezing and struggling to breath unlike anything I've ever seen him do before. I took Hunter to the ER around 2 AM. It took about 4.5 liters of oxygen to get his sats where they needed to be. His respiratory rate wasn't really coming down even with the oxygen support. They gave him a breathing treatment in the ER, not albuterol something else?, that seem to give him a little relief. Once the usual admittance dance was done I closed my eyes for a minute. At 6:30 I had to run home to nurse Rockwell so Bry came down to be with Hunter. About an hour later, after feeding the baby and getting my mother-in-law squared away to watch the kids, I arrived back at the hospital.

Outside the door to Hunter's room I could see a whole host of people gathered around his bed. My heart was in my throat as I walked in the room. The mood in the room was really tense. Hunter had a big mask on his face that hadn't been there when I left. They told me while I was gone he'd taken a turn for the worst and was requiring non-invasive ventilation called BiPAP. The nurse gently told us that if he didn't start responding positively soon they might need to intubate him and transfer him to Primary's. The next hour or so was scary for me. My dad came and helped Bryson give Hunter a blessing. I wanted to cry while they were blessing him but I just couldn't. I can't explain the adrenaline/I-need-to-be-strong-for-my-child mentality that just stops up all my emotion when I'm in these situations.

Beneath that though I felt really afraid. Maybe the most afraid I've been his whole life. Thankfully, after what seemed like an eternity he started responding. His labor to breath eased somewhat.

Since that crisis it has been business as usual except that he hasn't been able to transition from the BiPAP to CPAP yet. His chest x-rays looks terrible again today. I know we aren't out of the woods yet but I'm not panicked anymore.

Sometimes I feel disgusted with my selfishness because I want him to stay with me even though I know his life is difficult and painful much of the time. But I'm always relieved when he fights and literally lives to see another day.

On a lighter note, the past couple of evenings as I walk out to my car I pass several young, pregnant couples (with their pillows) on their way in for what I'm guessing must be some kind of birthing class here at the hospital. I can't help but smile at their "sparkliness". They look like shiny new pennies. Not like me, dirty and exhausted. I'm torn between wishing I could go back to that version of me-blissfully unaware that life is hard-and gratitude that we've come as far as we have and are stronger and more tender for it.