Breathless

Lately I've been sneaking into my son's room after he is sleeping. Thumb in mouth, he cuddles face down into his blanket. Always one that Grandma made for him with love before we ever knew him outside of the womb. His back rises and falls in an easy rhythm drowned out by the sound of the ever present fan which provides invaluable white noise. He's resting and peaceful. And so beautiful that he takes my breath away.

Just two weeks ago he fought for air. In a 24 hour period I watched his struggle increase. Each breath rattled his body. His appetite decreased. His wet diapers became less. The Doctor we saw at the rural hospital assured me it was simple laryngitis which would be cured with oral antibiotics. I questioned him, reminding him that there had been no wet diaper for 12 hours. I was given shallow reassurance and sent to Shoppers Drug Mart to fill a prescription.

My Mama's heart couldn't rest easy that evening, so I inflated the air mattress and took up camp in Isaiah's room. Every breath sounded labored and painful. The sound grated on me like nails on a chalkboard.


Morning came with no improvement. I jumped in a hot bath with my babe, thinking that perhaps the steam would ease his breathing. Instead, he deteriorated before my eyes. I doubted myself and called my Mum and a close friend. What should I do, I asked? A strange sense of calm took over and I decided to take the boy to the hospital. The Husband and the Mum had responsibilities at church so I called my best back up - Aunt Carol.


In a matter of minutes Carol re-organized her morning to meet me at the hospital. We drove, not rushing. The boy was quiet except for the sound of his breath, rattling.


I got out of the car and picked up my kid. His skin tone shocked me. No longer was he a nice healthy tanned color... instead he was grey. Every muscle in his neck strained with each breath. I hurried in with him and stated "Mybabyishavingtroublebreathingandswallowingandhehasnthadawetdiaperin24hrsandhesgettingworse"



From the door to the doctor was less than 5 minutes. With his shirt off I could see his body working to breathe. All of the symptoms of respiratory distress I had only read about in nursing classes were evident. Stridor. That's what the noisy breathing was. I had always imagined it to be higher pitched.


An IV elicited barely a flinch from my boy. Steroids, epinephrine face masks, and fluids were given. An X-ray showed swelling in his throat. My Aunt functioned as my 3rd and 4th hands, carrying stuff, giving me breaks, and providing support.

We were admitted for a few days. Diagnosed with either viral tracheitis or severe croup. Never have I seen a child who is Just. So. Loved. People rearranged their lives, declined shifts, brought food and toys, spent time, and phoned daily.

It has taken me a while to process how close we came to leaving the hospital without our son. I haven't known how to put it exactly into words. I just don't think words can do justice.

Under Grandma's watchful eye. She made us supper and gave us breaks daily.



Assuming the safe position. Hiding under his blankie, sucking his thumb.

Complaining to Daddy.