Last Thursday night, that is...
It was about 10:30 p.m. when Miles woke up a very unhappy baby. And, anyone who knows Miles personally, knows "unhappy" is out of character. At 6.5 months old, teething was the first suspect, often the cause of tears. A little Tylenol, mommy's kisses and a good nurse later, our little man was not soothed...again, out of character.
He showed very little interest in the usual Miles tantrum tonics; nothing was working.
Three hours later, I realized that he was not getting better. Honestly, I started to worry long before - he wouldn't look at us or react to our voices. I started to think something was really wrong. My heart started beating hard and I tapped Troy on the shoulder and blurted, "Honey, something is wrong - I want to take him in."
I realized, as we were getting our very sad baby boy into his car seat, covering him with a blanket, that this is one of the things that we heard about from more experienced parents. The emergency room visit in the middle of the night is sort of a rite of passage for new parents, I think - but what I am speaking of is the fear, the worry.
It's amazing the places our mind goes when we are scared. I felt helpless that I couldn't make my little guy feel better, that I didn't even know what was wrong.
I started thinking about the what if's:
What if I waited too long?
What if I had reacted more quickly? Why didn't I react more quickly?
What if it is really serious?
What if he's not ok?
Fortunately, it was not serious. Miles had his first ear infection.
I think back and realize that it all seems a bit silly. I almost didn't write about it, but did, if for no other reason to have a record of the experience. I figure that that someone out there might be able to relate.
Mama
