"Going to get worse before it gets better"

These were the words I heard as I carried Wyeth and Seren out of the pediatrians. Worse? But let me back up.

Wyeth had a scheduled 5 week (!) appointment. Seren was with me for the day and came along. All morning she was a complete grump head. No smiling. Lots of whining. Being a sad sack. I tried everything- singing the fun version of "No more monkeys jumping on the bed", etc. Really! Nothing worked.

We get to the doctors' office and then into the examination room. Then, all of a sudden, I knew why my Seren wasn't smiling: she puked. Right on Wyeth's baby seat and all over her pants. Oy! Poor little thing. She was white as a sheet and just really sad about the "mess".

When the doctor arrived, Seren was on my lap clinging to me to dear life, Wyeth was on the boob and I was half dressed. Red faced I welcomed the doctor.

The good news is that Wyeth weighed a ton- 75% for weight at 10 lbs 14 oz. (Are you kidding me!?) And he is doing well. He also grew half an inch. The doctors continue to tell me how strong he is- able to pick up his head and move a bit. So I was very pleased about that. But my heart was focused on my puking, pale girl.

She continued to puke in the office. Suddenly I felt very alone. No one was with me. And to go from an office enviornment to being a stay at home mom to two, I have struggled with loneliness. And now this situation. SEren needed to be carried out she was so tired and Wyeth was so little. In the end, the nurse carried Wyeth to the car, I carried SEren and her puke bucket. Lord. I felt so frazzled and overwhelmed.

But that was nothing.

I got us all set up at home. Cleaned up Seren and her clothing, got her set up on the couch with trash bags, her pook bucket (as she called it) and lots of towels. I was ready for round 2 and 3. She was so tired that she went to nap early. An hour later, she called crying from her bed. More puke. More cleaning. I brought her down and she dozed on me off and on. She felt warm and had a fever. So I called the doctor about the fever. They advised not to give her anything because she would puke it up. I needed to wait an hour.

So we waited.

And then she had a major seizure.

Seren had one other febrile seizure last February. This one lasted longer. Her eyes roll back in her head, and her mouth "chatters" uncontrollably. Everything twitches and she is unresponsive.

I called 9-1-1 as it was happening. THey were very good and calmly instructed me what to do. What was the scariest for me was that after the seizure, she remained unresponsive. The 911 operator told me to pinch her, to strip her down, to poke her. I did all of this and she did not respond- she was limp. But she was breathing. I held the phone up to her mouth and the 911 operator agreed she was breathing. The police and paramedics soon arrived.

She had opened one eye when the police arrived so I felt better. But Lord!

So the three of us rode to the hospital in the ambulance. The paramedics moved toward Seren to move her and get her ready for the ambulance. She let out a MOMMY!!!! like you wouldn't believe. They looked at each other and said, "We will deal with the little guy." So they went about opening my car, getting the base out of the car, getting him strapped into the ambulance while I collected a bag of diapers and got Seren's pants.

By this point, my neighbors had gathered to offer help. One neighbor gave me his coat and we were off.

Seren was such a big girl in the ambulance- brave and strong. The doctors took great care of her and made her feel better. She is going to be suspectible to these grand mal febrile seizures until about age 6 or 7.

We got to the hospital room and the nurse took one look at me and said, "Wow, Mom, you have your hands full."

Let me give you a visual of the three of us at this point in time. Wyeth is sleeping soundly in his carrier but doesn't have the full cozy snuggly thing because Seren had puked on it. Seren has a shirt on but no pants (in my efforts to cool her down, the 911 operator advised stripping her). She is clinging to me for dear life. And then there is me. My hair needed a haircut, I have red pj pants on, my shirt is inside out and I have concentric breast milk circles on my shirt due to lack of absorbing breast pads.

Good times. This is why there is such a thing as Mothers Day, right? For harrowing days like last Thursday.

Motrin in my new best friend. I am telling anyone who takes care of her to give her it at the first sign of any fever. Her fever this time was 103.3 post seizure. But clearly if we can avoid all of this, we will.

So yes, it "Got worse" before it got better.

I surprised myself by my own calmness and strength. I think that two tough pregnancies and motherhood has taught me that I am an incredibly strong person. I cried tears when all were safe and sound and Sam was there to relieve me but in the moment, I focused on what needed to be done. I am more of a figher than I realize. I turned 32 on Saturday and in my quest to examine who I really am, I am going to add "fighter" to the list of attributes about myself.

So praise God for quick EMTs, great neighbors and motrin!