In 2002, Brett and I decided to devote our lives to one another… long before we got married. We made promises to one another in private, to love each other and stay together no matter what. There were no rings or witnesses or legal documents. It is a promise that I hold very dear. We moved in together and decided that we didn’t need to get married, because we were devoted to each other, and didn’t feel a need for legal documentation of that fact. It was perhaps a bit naïve and idealistic.
Then, in July of 2002, things changed. My healthy, strapping partner was out on the weekend of July 4 th playing video games at a friend’s house. It was an activity he often engaged in, and rarely would I see him home before I went to bed. It was when my phone began to ring at 3:00 in the morning, that my heart stopped. I answered, and it was the police. Brett was being transported to a local hospital because he had suffered a seizure. A seizure. For no reason that was ever determined.
In the ensuing years, he would suffer 4 more until, finally, his meds were leveled and he remembered to take them regularly. The last one happened when I was 18 weeks pregnant with Urban – well over 5 years ago. His disorder is under control, and I live with only a vague inkling that something might happen again. Witnessing a loved one go through a seizure is almost more than I can describe. The feeling of helplessness and fear is heart wrenching, to say the very least. There is really nothing you can do.
It was the seizures that ultimately drove us to altar, oddly enough. Romantic, I know, but Brett needed health insurance in order to cover the new expenses that were beginning to pile up. And I needed the peace of mind that came with knowing the hospital staff would share everything to do with his care with me. His wife. Legally.
So, seizures, though they play a big role in our story, have not really been a hot topic for us in a long time. But suddenly I am finding myself thinking about them again – because on Sunday night Beringer, 21 months old, suffered a febrile seizure.
It was 10PM, both boys were asleep, and I was in bed reading. Brett had just come up to tell me about his afternoon with the boys because I had been out with Mom at a Christmas concert and dinner. Suddenly, we heard the most ungodly noise come from Beringer’s room. We looked at each other. “Nightmare?” I shrugged. Brett went back to talking. Then I heard a gasping sound and ran into Beringer’s room. He was seizing on his back in bed, and choking on his own saliva. I snatched him up and flipped him over so that the saliva would fall out of his mouth, and then I took him into the bathroom. There is better light in there. I laid him flat on the bathmat, and I saw that his jaw was locked and he was biting his tongue. So, I gently worked my finger between his teeth. His eyes lulled back in his head and his face was pale blue. Except his cheeks, they were bright red.
Brett and Mom stood at the doorway. Brett, who has experienced 5 seizures, has never actually seen one. We were all so scared. Finally, his body went limp. He was just a ragdoll in my arms. We bundled him up and rushed him to the ER where they told us he had a temperature of almost 105 and that the sudden spike had caused the seizure. He had blood drawn and a chest X-ray. They were thinking meningitis, and talked of a spinal tap. I was so scared.
Brett fretted that he had somehow passed along the “seizure gene” and that now Beringer would be doomed to a life of meds like him. I assured him that I thought no such gene exists. I’m no expert, but it seems unlikely. Still, he felt so guilty and helpless.
But, the doctors decided it was a viral infection in his lungs that caused the fever. It is possible that he will never have another. We just have to watch. We watched for 2 days. He’s getting better now…
On Monday, we decided Urban’s day should stay as normal as possible with all the drama from the night before, so with 3 hours of sleep, I drove him to school. He had a hard time leaving me. He kept talking about the seizure –about his brother. He called me from school 3x before noon, when I finally broke down and went back to pick him up.
He was a shell of himself. He said over and over that he was sad. His shoulders drooped and there were tears in his eyes. He told me form the backseat that he thought he had caused his brother’s seizure. That he was really scared and sorry.
I almost cried. I assured him that a fever had caused his brother’s seizure – that no person could cause that to happen to another person. “Is Beringer going to have to be on meds now like me and Daddy? Daddy takes meds so he doesn’t have seizures. He takes them every night. Seizures are really hard on your body. It’s what happens when your brain overloads and sends too many messages to your body. I take meds for asthma so I can breathe. Will Beringer have to take meds now?” Sometimes I think Urban’s big brain is more than he should have to handle. He understands too much and fills in the rest with make believe.
Oddly, because Brett’s disorder is so well-controlled, we have not had a direct conversation with Urban about seizures and what to do if someone has one. It appears he picked up all this information from listening to random conversations Brett and I have had over the years. Scary.
I told him that Beringer’s seizure was not like Daddy’s. Beringer’s seizure was caused by a fever because he was sick, and that meant that he would not have to take meds every night like Daddy. Urban felt a little better, I think. But still, he wouldn’t leave the family. He stayed home both days with us. He needed to know where we all were at all times. He is still clingy and tells me repeatedly that he loves me – that I’m his best friend and that we’ll always be together.
I have to admit, I kind of like all the extra love and attention, but I wish it didn’t come for such a worrisome reason. I just don’t know what exactly to say to a little boy who talks like a little man and has thoughts that are way too much for any little boy to process. I want to hug him and make it all better. I want to hug Beringer and make him not sick and have no more seizures. I want to hug Brett and take away all his pain too. Why can’t Mommy-magic really work like that? I wish it did. I would hug them all and, at the very least, take away all the guilt that is eating them up. But, then, it’s the guilt that shows in some twisted way how much we love and cherish each other.
Families are really complicated and weird, but I’m glad I have mine. They are all precious to me, even if they are all just a little bit dinged up.
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