It’s dark. It’s quiet. The alarms have finally shut off and the only sound in the room is the hollow echo of my sweet boy’s painful breaths.
We’re back here again.
I’ve grown quite used to the signs at this point. Short, shallow breaths, coughing, wheezing, and watching what looks like his tiny heart try to leap out from his chest.
For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I thought it would get easier. Each time he slips his finger into the pulse oximeter, I get a tiny knot inside my throat. I pray quietly to myself, trying hard not to show signs of my fear.
But after two back to back Nebulizer treatments and a dose of oral steroids, the inevitable was at hand and here we are.
Day three.
As I hear myself say those words, I can’t help but feel exhausted. And what a selfish feeling to possess at this point.
Zachary has been fighting for his life the past four days and I have the nerve to make this about me. But sitting here in the blackness and reflecting on the days progressions and setbacks, I feel so alone.
His last attack that lead to Hospitalization was back in December. At four, he was having nothing to do with the tubing that delivers his oxygen. All night long, he would fight me and the nurses by ripping out his tubes. Which, then would lead to loud, obnoxious alarms from his drop in blood oxygen.
This time around, my little guy is a Pro. He understands fully now the importance the oxygen plays, the difference it makes in his breathing.
He has grown independent and brave. He’s been forced to. Since he was 18 months, this is what he’s known.
I don’t know awfully too many 5 year olds who can tell you what Bronchial tubes are.
Or what Pulsox is.
And through it all, he never complains. Granted, we all get the pleasure of witnessing his wild mood swings. But it’s a small price. He puts up with the helpless and scary feelings that no mother would wish upon her child.
And I think that’s what scares me the most. I don’t want him to feel “comfortable” with feeling uncomfortable.
A mother wants to know her childs fears, his hurts and she wants to make them better. Even when she knows that she can’t.
I’m not one to ask for help. I tend to sit idly by, waiting for it to arrive on it’s own.
But right now, I think I feel the most helpless that I have ever felt. I can talk and I can talk. But everyone around me has already heard it.
I feel like I’m playing tennis all by myself. I keep serving but nothing is ever returned.
I’m scared. Beyond belief.
A feeling that, as a Self-professed Anal Retentive Control Freak, does not appeal to me nor does it come naturally.
For the time being, Zach cannot leave the hospital because without his oxygen, his levels just drop too low to be safely sent home.
Just shallow breathes for now.
So, please send some healthy and thoughtful deep breathes of fresh air our way. We could certainly use them.
15 responses to “shallow breathing…”
Sending out positive healing energy to your son.
Huge prayers sent your way. I didn’t realize he was in the hospital. I pray he feels better soon. Sending our love!
thinking of you and zach, and the rest of your family too. if you need anything, let me know . . .
Sister Goldenhair,
LOVE that name, by the way! Thank you so much for such supportive words. I sooooo need them right now.
His doctor was just in and told me he can’t go home today.
*thump!*
Pardon me, that was just my heart falling onto the hospital room floor.
😉
Here’s hoping his little lungs jump into overdrive and he can go home by this evening, when the doc comes back in. 🙂
Hi, Stacy!
How do mothers survive?
“Whatever doesn’t kill us……”?
I am trying hard to gain as much strength through watching my child’s own enormous amount, right now.
Ame!!!!
So sweet of you to ask and offer. 🙂
We are okay. I have just been keeping everything inside, you know?
I’m a Bottler! Normally, I don’t spill so much. But today, I just felt the urge to Over-spill!
Thank you for being sweet you! 🙂
I understand where you are right now and the helpless feeling that you’re feeling…be strong. As strong as your little boys is, fighting for every breath. I’ve lived it and my fighter is now 10 and symptom free for now.
Sending strength and positive thoughts your way…for all of yours.
Lorena,
You don’t know what it means to hear that I am not alone.
Being so helpless makes me feel so small.
Knowing that there are moms out there that have also gone through it gives me hope and courage that I can do this.
Thank you.
Hang in there, Zach man. Sending big hugs from Ben, Margot and me.
We love you guys so much
Easy, relax, and keep breathing. I’ve been there–on Zach’s end of things–and your presence is a big deal. I’ll keep Zach in prayers.
i wish i could do more…but all i can do is offer prayers for zach and you. i hope he can come home soon and i hope that the drs can do something to help so that he never has to go through this again. there has to be something out there that will help.
I feel extremely frustrated that I can’t be of more help to you! I know keeping the little munchkin for you helps, but I still feel helpless, because I want to physically help by being at the hospital as much as possible. Unfortunately your sister is working a full day today and your brother is gone to see Eric after his 2 weeks in Florida, so I’m here alone with Zander. I may just bundle him into the car and bring him down to the hospital anyway. I’m so pleased to hear that kids outgrow this. Keep Bryson in mind. Just hang in there and hopefully this will all just be a bad memory after a few more years. And please remember, when your Mom is not there physically, she is in spirit. I love you and Zach very, very much.
oh kalurah, this post breaks my heart.
i will be praying for zach, i hope he gets well soon so he can come home.
xoxoxo
Kalurah,
I am so sorry. Your writing is so clear and powerful. I wish there was some tangible support I could send your way, instead of just my good wishes and warmest thoughts.
Great Big Cyber Hugs,
and a strong shoulder to lean on,
heather.
Oh, my dear!
Please know that you and your family are in our prayers in Minnesota. Children are so … frightening! We’ve had a couple of frantic hospital trips and wrestling matches with the nebulizer and oxygen tubes ourselves. There is nothing worse. But, you are in good hands. Zach is understanding more, so his fear is lessened. There are many, many prayers and good wishes coming your way!
Ahna
I had no idea. My heart aches for you and your wee one. You are such an amazing person, such an amazingly beautiful mother. I am praying for you and your family and all the new changes. Hugs.