First ER Visit

The next two weeks passed normally. He appeared to be a normal length, still very short but nothing unheard of. It looked like we had escaped unscathed and the horror of the previous month would eventually become a painful but distant memory. At about a week and a half old, we started noticing him doing this weird twitch thing. Very young babies have extra sensitive startle reflexes (called a Moro reflex) so if you google, “my baby is twitching,” that’s what you’ll think it is (remember how I said don’t google? Clearly I can’t take my own advice). I mentioned it to his pediatrician and she gave me her cell phone number, and told me to get a video of it and send it to her. A few days later I finally managed to get a clear video of his entire body when he had one of the episodes, and I texted it to her right away. About an hour later, I was washing dishes and didn’t have my phone on me. I went to grab it and saw I had three missed calls from Eli’s pediatrician. I remember this moment so vividly because I was telling Will a funny story, and we were both laughing uncontrollably, but as soon as I saw three missed calls right after another, I knew it wasn’t good. I called his doctor back and she let me know she had sent the video to a neurologist at Children’s Medical Center (with my permission), and the neurologist told her it looked like seizure activity and we needed to take him to the ER immediately. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Go NOW. This happened on a Monday; Eli was exactly two weeks old.

Unsurprisingly, I lost it after I hung up the phone and told Will what she said. Being on maternity leave, I looked like a hobo, so I started running around frantically trying to put in contacts, put my hair in a somewhat presentable ponytail, and pack a bag for us. Having never had a child before and never been sent to the ER before, I had no idea what to pack. I think I ended up with a few outfits for Eli, a jacket for myself, my glasses, toothbrushes, a couple bottles full of formula, and some granola bars? I know I forgot burp cloths, one of the few things we ended up needing. In between running around like a crazy person I called my mom in tears and told her what was going on and texted my best friend. We let the dogs out and loaded Eli into the car. Before we left the house I asked Will to say a prayer to help us both take a moment and calm down.

We arrived at the ER, and Will dropped us off. I clearly remember seeing the “Safe Place” sign and registering it (if you don’t know me well, I’m very sarcastic, and I had already joked with Will about leaving Eli at a fire station “Safe Place” if he got to be too much trouble); I noticed a police officer outside the ER doors, who watched me carry Eli inside. I was wearing leggings along with carrying Eli so I couldn’t carry my phone. We just crossed our fingers Will would be able to catch up and locate us quickly. He tracked me down as they were weighing Eli and getting his vitals. This was about…6:30 in the evening. They sent us to a small, separate waiting room to wait (I assume that’s where they send all the young babies who haven’t yet been vaccinated or built up their immune systems).

It felt like hours, but it probably took about 30 minutes for someone to come get us. They took us to a room in the ER and began getting the usual history and information from us. I showed everyone who asked the video of the seizure and explained what his pediatrician had told us. I don’t really remember the order of things that happened on this night. I know we walked over to get a CT done. It was a long, bleak hallway and all I could think of was the moment in the Cher movie “Mermaids” where she’s walking down the hospital hallway to her daughter’s room (I couldn't find a gif so here is a picture for your viewing pleasure...).

I was clearly unhinged because this was making me giggle uncontrollably. He was so good for the CT scan. He was so, so tiny. We both put on the lead vests as the person in the room (I have no idea who does those…doctor? Nurse? Some other title?) stabilized him and taped foam around his head to make sure he didn’t move. He didn’t cry at all, just laid there quietly the entire time it took them to complete the scan.

I think the CT happened first. Next, we went back to the room and they started trying to get blood from him. This did not go well. The veins of a two-week-old are very tiny (shocker, I know). They tried so many different things to get blood from him. They sent in multiple people, tried warming up his arms and legs with little heat packets, turned off the lights and used some crazy black light contraption…everything. He got stuck so many times. It was so hard to watch. I’ve always heard when you have kids you’d do anything to keep them from being in pain; you’d take their place in a heartbeat. Now, on the daily I think that’s kind of silly. Skinned knees, fights with friends, heartbreak…those are a part of life and everyone needs to experience those kinds of things to grow into a normal adult and parents shouldn’t coddle their kids through those experiences (in my opinion). But watching this two-week-old, who was very hungry by now, get stabbed over and over to no avail, and just cry and cry…it was awful. He would look at me as he screamed and it just broke my heart. I felt like he was staring at me asking WHY I was letting them do this to him.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, next up was the spinal tap. They didn’t allow us to stay in the room for this…and I didn’t fight it too hard because I knew if just a needle stick could make me feel so guilty and upset, watching a spinal tap would be unbearable. Somewhere around this time (I can’t remember if it was before or after) my parents showed up. We were only allowed three people in the ER so they switched out a few times, back and forth. They brought us sandwiches since food hadn’t even crossed our mind, snacks, and drinks. We all just kind of stood there. There’s really not much anyone can say or do for you when you’re in that situation, besides tell you they’re sorry. They left to go get our dogs for the night (poor babies…I still ADORE our dogs and never resent them like many new parents seem to, but we hadn’t given them a second thought). It was probably at least 12:30 AM before we got into a room, possibly later. And NICU rooms suck. It wasn’t so much a room as three walls with a curtain on the fourth side. There are no couches or pull out beds in the NICU, either. There are two chairs. One reclines, if you’re heavy enough. I apparently am not heavy enough because as soon as I would get the chair laid back and try to relax, it would sloooowly raise back into a sitting position. I finally left Will in the room to sleep and went to the waiting room. I got a blanket from the little NICU break room (you aren’t allowed any food and drink in the rooms, so they have a room with a fridge, vending machines, lockers, and pillows and blankets for guests) and tried to sleep on a bench. The TV in the waiting room was blaring, all the lights were on, and it was freezing. I didn’t sleep well. The next day I really regretted my bed of choice, because I realized if I had walked just a little further I would have found a much longer, softer, and quieter bench.