Sunday Slivers, 12/12/10: Seizure

This week Raya had a seizure. 

The picture above was taken in the Emergency Room some time in the early afternoon of December 8. Around noon that day, I came down for the first time in twenty-four hours, after a brief but debilitating bout with the same stomach virus that had made Sava, Rado, and Raya ill the preceding days. I was carrying Raya around as she babbled and gesticulated, when all of a sudden she became very fussy; after a minute of fussiness during which nothing I did pleased her, her body suddenly stiffened, and she began to shake--first lightly, and then violently. By the time I reached for the phone to dial 911, her mouth was foaming, her breathing had become labored, and her eyes began to roll back into her head.
I had never witnessed a seizure but, for reasons that remain somewhat mysterious to me, I have spent the past year reading the blog of a lovely woman on the East Coast, raising a little girl just a few months older than Raya, who was born with a rare chromosomal disorder. Hannah's descriptions of her daughter's recent "febrile" seizures popped in my head as Raya began to shake and, within seconds of the episode starting, I knew what I was seeing.
That I knew what was happening made it no less difficult to bear. By the time the firemen and the paramedics arrived, I was ready to be put on a stretcher and wheeled out to a hospital bed myself. Those two or three minutes that the seizure lasted were the most terrifying moment of my life.
Six hours in the ER and six needle pokes later, we came home with the diagnosis of "febrile seizure." Febrile seizures are caused by fevers and affect about four in one hundred children, so they are considered fairly "normal." Raya's diagnosis would be unexceptional if not for the fact that her fever at the time of the seizure was a mere 99.2 (seizures will usually be triggered by temperatures of 102F and up), and she gave no signs of being sick. The explanation we got by the ER doctors, later elaborated by a pediatric neurologist, was that Raya's blood tests in the ER showed her to be significantly dehydrated. Dehydration plus low fever in the context of a lingering stomach virus apparently could trigger a febrile seizure.
We hope the doctors are right, because if not, there would have to be another explanation for why an alert and babbling baby suddenly went into full-body convulsions, and then slumped into a deep sleep that looked akin to losing consciousness for ten long minutes. (And for all of you moms and dads out there, beware of what nurses and doctors tell you about dehydration: even if your baby "has tears," she can apparently be significantly dehydrated; even if her eyes "shine" instead of being "dull," she can apparently be significantly dehydrated; and even if she is active, instead of lethargic, she can apparently be dehydrated...even if she vomited only once and took in what looked like a minimally adequate amount of liquids.)

Raya is fine now. All doctors assured us that these seizures cause no lasting impact, and that babies bounce back as soon as the seizure is over and they wake back up. Raya endured the ER ordeal like a trooper, smiling and flirting with hospital staff, telling her name to whoever she felt deserved it, and dancing on our knees while the IV pumped liquids into her little body. Her parents will remember this for the rest of their lives, and Sava now knows what it feels like to have five firemen in your living room.

He was scared. Much as he might have thought it would be cool to have firemen come to our house, and much as he wanted to show them his firetruck while we listened to the sirens getting closer, he looked small and frightened as the big guys stormed into our house. Grandma reported that he cried at lunch after we left for the hospital, and he was visibly shaken for at least twenty-four hours after we came home. I am not sure firetrucks and ambulances will ever again be the unequivocal objects of desire that they have been for the past three years.

*****
In other news, thanks to dad staying home an extra day after the hospital ordeal, we had a cameraman during violin lesson--

The three boys in the class have really bonded, and teacher Allison tells us that they have the best dynamic of any group she's ever had. We all hope to continue together next semester, when the box violins will be replaced with real violins.
I admire how passionate Sava is about this whole gig, and how he continues to carry the enthusiasm which inspired him to request violin lessons in the first place. I don't care what my kids grow up to be, or what they learn to do.  I only care that they learn to take pride and satisfaction in their efforts. Working hard is the hardest thing to teach.
*****
The day after the seizure, I wanted to look at Raya all the time, record her every move. Hence--

She is so dang cute when she says her name, and then names everyone else in the family, that I just have to share this video, which probably will be taken down in a few days, as not all actors might wish to be viewed on the internet; notice eager brother trying to get her to show off her skills, which only, of course, ends up confusing her; this also was taken the day after the seizure--

*****
Sava loves to make crowns, and his teachers at school kindly oblige, so he regularly comes home with new creations. On Friday he came home from school with this lovely specimen, which includes a recycled envelope with a post-it note featuring a list of supplies that his teachers must have needed for an art project; he said he was a mailman, and if I put my stuff in his envelope, he could deliver it to where it needed to go; oh, to have their imaginations and their delightableness--

Insisted on wearing it during lunch, of course.

And check out this "steam train" made of coins....who needs the prefab stuff?

*****

Day after seizure, I also repeatedly checked in on Raya to make sure she was breathing, against doctor's advice, of course, who told us that we would go batty if we did this. But if I hadn't, I wouldn't have found her sleeping like this--

--alright, and I wouldn't have woken her up while taking the photo. 

Still, it was worth it..

*****

And though it may be the middle of December, we managed to register at least one playdate in the park this week which went on until it was almost dark. Gloaming, they used to call it. So thankful for the weather and the outdoor spaces of where we live; so thankful for our lovely friends--

Playing in the dry creek where in the summer they love to splash.

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Earlier today I thought I might finally write about how excruciatingly difficult it has been to feed and nurse Raya lately--independent of sickness and seizure--but I am too tired to do it, both physically and mentally. Perhaps next week. For now, I prefer to contemplate this image, which tells me that, somehow, she too will grow up and begin eating like a normal human being; and, hopefully, she will appreciate books (and her devoted father) as her brother does--

*****

Speaking of, Big Bro attended his second theater performance at the Montalvo Arts Center this week, of a musical based on one of his favorite books, The Little Blue Engine, and rumor has it that he enjoyed it. Since I had to nurse and put to sleep you-know-who, we made a guy date out of it, and dad and son had, according to rumors, a lovely time together. Sava got to look handsome, too--

 

*****

Last but not least, the Christmas tree is up, and we are still fielding Santa questions, as in, Mommy, why does Santa live on the North Pole? He doesn't have to live on the North Pole....Mommy, I want to go to the North Pole on an airplane.

 Wreath made of cutouts of Sava's and Raya's hands, decorated by Mr. Sava.