I love my boys. They are my reason for being. My reason for getting up in the morning, my reason for going to work every day. They are my life. If something were to happen to either of them a piece of me would die. I know this is not uncommon for a mother to feel this way. They were the reason I was considering maybe going into the military. I need to be able to support them, to give them the life they deserve. I thought this was a means, albeit a drastic one, to that end.
As of the wee hours of this morning, I know that I can not leave them. That if I went into the military, and something were to happen to me, they would not be ok. Even my 14 year old needs his mommy right now. The events of last night were proof of that fact. The Big One has asthma. He was diagnosed with it when I was pregnant with Bubba. So, we've been dealing with it for 7 years. We've had some "scary" episodes, but nothing the nebulizer couldn't fix. His asthma doesn't make him wheeze, it makes him cough. The past week, since his soccer tournament, he has had a horrible cough. Monday he was put on orapred to knock it out of him, but it wasn't really helping.
Last night his cough was getting progressively worse. He started a neb treatment a little after 11 pm, and I went to bed. Sometime around 12, I awoke to him calling my name, and found him sticking his head out the back door, trying to get air. This works in the frigid winter air, but not in the above freezing rainy spring air. I brought him into my bed, and hooked him up for a second round of the neb. He was getting upset, and he was getting scared. He could not breath. We finally agreed it was time to go to the ER. I debated in my head if I should drive him or call 911. Debated calling his father to get his opinion. Then, I got dressed, and called 911 for the first time in my life. My baby needed help. And I was going to get it for him.
The ambulance took forever to get there. And then they took forever getting inside. Once inside they took his vitals, hooked him up with oxygen and a nebulizer with some extra special juice in it, and loaded him on the stretcher. I decided I would follow, so that I could drive us home when he was released. This meant I had to stop at the ATM to have cash to pay for the parking garage. Even though I stopped at the bank, I still got to the hospital at the same time as the ambulance. These guys need to learn the meaning of the word EMERGENCY!
We were at the hospital for over 2.5 hours. He was dehydrated, and needed another round of the stuff the ambulance gave him. So he got an IV and more nebulizer. As I was sitting there, looking at my baby with needles and tubes going into his body, I realized that this was someone's way of telling me that my boys need me. And they need me here. All of the time. That even if there is just the slightest potential of me being deployed, it is too much of a risk to take. This was my wake up call, my hint, that I need to find another way to earn some extra money. That joining the Air National Guard is not an option for this single, soccer, triathlete mama.
On the way home, he admitted to me that he thought he was going to die. That he was laying on the couch, waiting for the ambulance, not able to take a breath, wondering what would happen when he died. How we would handle it, who at school would care. He admitted that he was terrified. I don't want him to have to ever feel that way again in his life. But, if he does, I want him to know that his mama is right there, ready to hold his hand, and rub his back, and fight for his life with him.
As of the wee hours of this morning, I know that I can not leave them. That if I went into the military, and something were to happen to me, they would not be ok. Even my 14 year old needs his mommy right now. The events of last night were proof of that fact. The Big One has asthma. He was diagnosed with it when I was pregnant with Bubba. So, we've been dealing with it for 7 years. We've had some "scary" episodes, but nothing the nebulizer couldn't fix. His asthma doesn't make him wheeze, it makes him cough. The past week, since his soccer tournament, he has had a horrible cough. Monday he was put on orapred to knock it out of him, but it wasn't really helping.
Last night his cough was getting progressively worse. He started a neb treatment a little after 11 pm, and I went to bed. Sometime around 12, I awoke to him calling my name, and found him sticking his head out the back door, trying to get air. This works in the frigid winter air, but not in the above freezing rainy spring air. I brought him into my bed, and hooked him up for a second round of the neb. He was getting upset, and he was getting scared. He could not breath. We finally agreed it was time to go to the ER. I debated in my head if I should drive him or call 911. Debated calling his father to get his opinion. Then, I got dressed, and called 911 for the first time in my life. My baby needed help. And I was going to get it for him.
The ambulance took forever to get there. And then they took forever getting inside. Once inside they took his vitals, hooked him up with oxygen and a nebulizer with some extra special juice in it, and loaded him on the stretcher. I decided I would follow, so that I could drive us home when he was released. This meant I had to stop at the ATM to have cash to pay for the parking garage. Even though I stopped at the bank, I still got to the hospital at the same time as the ambulance. These guys need to learn the meaning of the word EMERGENCY!
We were at the hospital for over 2.5 hours. He was dehydrated, and needed another round of the stuff the ambulance gave him. So he got an IV and more nebulizer. As I was sitting there, looking at my baby with needles and tubes going into his body, I realized that this was someone's way of telling me that my boys need me. And they need me here. All of the time. That even if there is just the slightest potential of me being deployed, it is too much of a risk to take. This was my wake up call, my hint, that I need to find another way to earn some extra money. That joining the Air National Guard is not an option for this single, soccer, triathlete mama.
On the way home, he admitted to me that he thought he was going to die. That he was laying on the couch, waiting for the ambulance, not able to take a breath, wondering what would happen when he died. How we would handle it, who at school would care. He admitted that he was terrified. I don't want him to have to ever feel that way again in his life. But, if he does, I want him to know that his mama is right there, ready to hold his hand, and rub his back, and fight for his life with him.
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xoxox
((((HUGS)))) my friend...