Scared? Me?

So this weekend has been eventful. Well, not really, but we did end up staying overnight in the hospital with Melodie. I’ll tell you what happened.

She’d had two days off school this week. Wednesday she pretty much just had a sore throat and coughed and then the evening was worse. Thursday she stayed home as well, but she was fine exept for her sore throat and small amounts of cough-fits. Therefore she went back to school Friday morning, without a voice (so small that noone could here her). I told her that if she felt ill at all, I’d pick her up immediately and not to hesitate. The day went by, and at pick-up time she was happy as and had had a great day with her friends.

Then come the night. She was meant to have a gymnastics competition the next day, and I was contemplating calling her coaches and tell them she wouldn’t make it, but decided to just hold off until the next morning before making the final decision. Well, obviously, she didn’t go!

We played a game of monopoly (her very first game) and before we had finished she decided to quit it and go watch some tv instead. By the time the I had won (which is pretty standard, lol) she was sound asleep on the couch with her dinosaur pyjamas on. It was nearly eleven and we were about to pack up, and she woke up, unable to breathe properly. At first, we thought she was having a night terror, as she does have them sometimes, and we took her to her room. Realizing she had such trouble breathing, we decided we needed to take her to the ER. Simon packed up her medicine bag and got her shoes on while I gathered some stuff for us. A stressful situation which ended up with us half-shouting at each other as we got out of the door – in a way only parents hurrying their child to the hospital can do. Finally there, she got an umbrella (because obviously the weather was bad) out and we walked those very long meters to the emergency entrance.

She sits down on a chair, and the three people in triage office pays attention to her immediately, and before I am called to talk to triage and register her, two of them have rushed out and starts listening and talking to her. The lady behind the counter asks me if I can carry her in as they couldn’t find their weelchair, and I spend two seconds not answering (at this point I hadn’t even told them her name yet!) and by the time I said “Of Course!” one of the nurses just picks her up and removes her into a room. I could no longer see her. So, it is bad then, I remember thinking to myself. I continue to give the triage details and she explains to me that I’ll be following in a few seconds, they just needed to start monitoring her. I am of course okay with this, she needed care, take her wherever she will get it! At this stage I probably should be scared.

To cut a long story short, we ended up staying overnight. Croup was the final diagnosis, after considering asthma as well. She was moved around in a wheelchair a few times, and Melodie loved the attention! She was promised an icy pole at the start, and she made sure they kept their promise! After being given steroids and ventolin and having a red light on her finger, she slowly bettered and by the time we were moved to the ward, she was quite happy. At breakfast time she even ate a whole bowl of cereal – and loved her room. If she had a choice, she would’ve stayed another night, easy. For now though, we are monitoring her at home. She is currently sleeping in our bed, and we keep going in and listening to her breathing. So far she is fine.

And here’s the kicker. I wrote a status on facebook about it, and loads of gorgeous people commented and gave us their well wishes. And saying how scary it was. And my mother was scared. So was the rest of my Norwegian family. Melodie great grandmother sat thousands kilometers away worrying about her. And I agree. It should have been scary. I should have been worried sick. I should have been fretting and wondering and stressing and crying because my baby was in the hospital.

But I wasn’t. And I still am not. I don’t know why I have ended up being this ‘fear-less’ mother, but although I can hover over them and protect them against anything and everything, I don’t. Maybe that’s why. I have this inkling in life. When things are going to be okay, I can feel it. I stop worrying, and I just let it go. And that had kinda become one of my mantras and way of living. It will be okay – most things do. I am usually quite emotional, and loads of things make me cry. God, I am also the kind of mother that spends a minute looking at my kids playing, and I get all teary and need to remove myself before I actually start crying. In those moments I am completely naked and exposed and that is when all my fears come out. Then I can fear all the little things in life. Horrible, I know.

Maybe I am just really good at keeping my head cold and collected when I really need to. I don’t know. I know that I had every reason to freak out when the nurse picked up my baby and carried her away from me. I know that as I saw her struggling to breathe and talk and having to take this horrible medicine I should have been sitting next to her, shaking and waiting for her to get better. But I just stood there and listened to the doctors and rubbing her feet – smiling and humming. Maybe my attitude rubbed off on her as well. This morning I asked her if she was scared when she came in, and this was her answer; “A little bit, but I didn’t need to, because the nurses made me all better, and I knew they would. You said so.”

Maybe being ‘fear-less’ is exactly what I need to be for my children.





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