Emergency Room Love

I have a few things to say about the Emergency Room. Why? Well, we were there just last night. If you've read Our Story, you will know that our little Tenderheart has come home to us with all of his cuteness and some complications. He is prone to Pneumonia, had Rickets, was malnourished, is Asthmatic, has some pretty descent Acid Reflux issues, etc. And we love that "little lemon" of ours as my husband would say. (We mean that in the most endearing way).

Yesterday, he was coughing non-stop. We were treating him with inhalers, medicine, etc. But nothing was helping. At 8:00pm last night... we got his little body out of bed, covered in puke... and hooked him up to the Nebulizer. (Which, was the first time we have had to use it at home... and we fumbled around trying to remember how to hook it up, getting angry and panicky with each other.) Still... no change. It seemed like he would forget to cough when he was occupied... so he stayed up with us watching American Idol. Still... no change. Okay... he's puked 7 times in the last 3 hours from coughing fits... and he can't go to sleep cause he can't stop coughing. But he doesn't sound wheezy. He's breathing fine. Weird. "I'll take him for a drive to see if he can just fall asleep." So, Daddy stayed home to be with our other sleeping babe... and I strapped Tenderheart into the car. Put on some soothing music. 

Didn't help. Coughing became worse. In fact, just 1 minute up the road, he puked all over himself and then almost started choking. Mommy panicked... turned the car around in sheer terror... sped back toward home and called my husband screaming... "Get our stuff... we're going to the hospital! Sob. Gasp. Snort" Actually, I think an explicative was in there too. And then as I was mad-woman-like speeding back home... I passed a cop. I KNOW!!! First thought... holy s#$&. Second thought... if this is going to turn out to be bad... maybe he can escort us. The slamming on of my brakes must have slipped past the Cop's attention, and he let me on by. Tenderheart was still breathing okay. If not... I would have left all behind and just gone straight to the E.R. 

So... Daddy scooped up a sleeping Braveheart and ran out to meet us in the car... where Mommy was hyperventilating and Tenderheart was still coughing... covered in puke... and looking at his Mother in astonishment. Ah yes... not my finest moment my friends. Not my finest. Can I make an excuse? I have been sick for the past 4 days... nausea, low energy... restless non-sleep. My tank was empty. But I'm not sure if I would have been more calm if I hadn't been sick. Let's just say I'm not the "calm" type in scary situations. Not even close to calm. I'd really like to be one day. But yesterday was certainly not the day. 

When we got to the E.R... ALL of us now smelling like vomit, (sorry) they brought us in right away and we saw a nurse. His vitals were good. He was still breathing fine. And now... so distracted... barely coughing. Well... you know how the rest of the story goes. You end up being stuck in the E.R. for a LONG time. 11:00pm and your kids are so overtired they are going bizzerk. YOU are going bizzerk. And you know what happened?

My husband was standing there in the E.R. room with me and he was trying to fix an argument that we had had the day before. (Hence the frustrated Nebulizer hook-up scene)  He's watching his beautiful crazy bride at her worst and he isn't appalled. Nope. He's trying to get to the bottom of things between "us" so we can  be our best for our little guy. And... nothing seems right when things aren't right between us, especially when things are going "wrong". I glared at his attempt. And continued to be a hacked-off brick wall, trying to distract Tenderheart and Braveheart from wanting to get down on the gross, so gross E.R. floor, and from flipping out. 

At the end of the night, the car pulled up to our home, with the door still wide open from leaving in furry. We pulled the exhausted children out of the car and laid them down to sleep (one that now had a bit of Prednisolone in his system, again, ugh). The door to their bedroom closed, and the tears poured down my face. My husband pulled my head into his chest. And we just stood in the kitchen. 

"I'm sorry."