Dear Lyra,
Happy 10 month birthday!
I’m writing this month’s letter a bit late. You see, we’ve been a little busy; we just got home from an overnight stay at UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospital.
On Friday night at about 1am you woke up crying. Midnight to 3am is your Dad’s shift so he trudged upstairs to soothe you back to sleep. This sort of waking is not too unusual, but this time you just couldn’t calm down. Even though it was my turn to sleep, I lay awake listening to you cry as your Dad tried all his best soothing tricks. Even Ada seemed to think something was off, as she sat up staring at me.
After a while, your Dad brought you to me. Maybe if we could let you nurse a little, it would help you get back to sleep. But you wouldn’t nurse. And you were beginning to shake. And tremble. And we noticed that your lips and your arms and legs were starting to look purple. We decided that we needed to go to the emergency room. I told your Dad to call 911. I have never felt more afraid in my whole life, yet somehow I remained calm because I knew you needed me to.
The paramedics arrived within minutes and took one look at you — purple, shaking and somewhat unresponsive — and said, “Let’s go!” We hurried into the ambulance, your Dad on the gurney holding you while they gave you oxygen and took vitals — your heart rate was too high and temperature too high, blood oxygen too low. We arrived at the hospital in minutes and a team of about half a dozen doctors and nurses began examining you. The worst part was when they put in an IV. It took many tries, at one point two nurses working on different limbs at once. Your tiny veins were hard to find in all that chub. I talked to you about what was happening and I told you that you were safe and that all these people were going to help you feel better. Soon your color began to improve and you started to act more normal. They told us that they suspected a urinary tract infection was causing a fever and that the infection had spread to your kidneys and your blood (aka sepsis). They gave you IV fluids and antibiotics and kept track of your heart rate and temperature. After a few hours you seemed to be much better but exhausted, so they let us go home. You fell asleep during the 5-minute car ride home.
A few hours later you woke up and once again you were inconsolable. And to our horror you were beginning to tremor and your lips were turning purple. So we ran down to the car and back to the hospital. This time they decided to keep you for 24 hours observation, in case you had another episode and to monitor your heart rate and temperature. Fortunately, there were no more episodes and your vitals returned to normal. You enjoyed being at the hospital because there were so many friendly nurses, doctors, medical students, patients, and visitors to grin and wave at. The children’s hospital is not the happiest place to be, especially so close to Christmas, but you brightened a lot of people’s spirits with your sunshiny attitude. The next morning (Sunday) we were cleared to come home. We received truly amazing care at the hospital but I wouldn’t mind if we never have to go back.
Now we are home, resting and recovering. You are mostly back to your old self, but a little tired and a little pale and a little clingy. Your Grandma and Grandpa will be arriving soon and we’re all looking forward to a relaxing and uneventful Christmas.
I had planned to write you a very different letter this month. One with cute stories about the little games you invent at the dinner table and your goofy sense of humor and how much you love to make people smile and how you got your first two teeth. The truth is those qualities are probably why we didn’t realize you were sick until you were really sick. Tough as nails and happy as a clam. That’s my girl.
Love,
Mama
