It began with a fall – one that my husband didn’t mention to me because he assumed it was like every other fall she takes on a daily basis. Little Bit climbs. And falls.
Later that night, she began vomiting violently, but only for a few hours. Then…hush. I laid in bed – a pile of clean sheets and the pack ‘n play beside me, ready for the long night I knew we’d have. But she never woke, and I was incredibly bothered by that. Viruses don’t last for four hours. When my alarm finally sounded, after a very restless night, I mentioned to him that I hadn’t slept well. Mommy worry had set in. This just didn’t fit.
She woke, and when my honey set her feet on the floor, she collapsed. “Mommy, I can’t walk anymore.” Her right side wasn’t working, and she truly couldn’t walk. She looked like baby Bambi, trying so hard to stay upright, but falling flat and choosing to crawl instead. That’s when he told me about the fall that he heard from the next room. She cried, but not for long, and we were just not sure if that was a significant part of this story, anyway. But the fact remained, she wasn’t using her leg as she should.
This from a girl who has been running since eight months and does not walk at all. She only runs, her curls bouncing in the wind.
As a bona fide nursing school dropout (six months from taking the boards), and a nutrition teacher by trade, I know just enough about medicine and health to be dangerous. I know that violent, acute vomiting spells and one-sided weakness can mean something very, very bad neurologically, so of course, I called the doctor’s office immediately and began to panic. Loudly. The anxiety I detected from the nurse as she asked me if I could come immediately was the push over the edge that I probably didn’t need, so off we flew.
She was pitiful stumbling around the waiting room but still charmed everyone in her path. Onlookers frowned sadly as she flopped on the floor frustrated. But she’s a kid who’s impossible to keep still.
A scary morning became terrifying as the doctor mentioned “untreated concussion,” “brain bleed,” “broken hip,” and “brain tumor” as diagnoses to rule out. She gave us a couple of options going forward, and when I asked what she’d do if it was her baby, her response was unintentionally sharp. “I’d have taken my baby to the Emergency Room last night.” She’s wonderful, and I appreciate her honesty, but that was difficult to swallow.
To shorten this story, we spent the day at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta having her bones, blood, and range of motion checked out, and all was well. Nothing doing. No inflammation, no white blood cell abnormalities, nothing broken. No tumors.
The doctor’s best guess is toxic synovitis. It’s a harmless swelling of the hip joint that sometimes occurs up to a few weeks after a cold or stomach virus. It still doesn’t explain the vomiting, so it’s still a possibility that the babe gave herself a mild concussion and just sprained or strained a muscle somewhere in her leg.
She’s improving now, though she’s still hobbling, but we’re more than thankful that none of the worst case scenarios became our reality.
Still, Monday was the single most terrifying day of my life so far. Having my beautiful daughter checked for tumors? Just the idea of it was more terrifying that I can describe.
Oddly enough, two days prior to all of this, my Facebook status was this: The older I get, the more I appreciate the health of my family. Little did I know…
When I put my baby doll to bed that night, I stuck my nose in her curly hair as I rocked her all the way to sleep. Her limp little body breathing so deeply was a welcomed quiet to a day that I won’t ever forget. And I think more than anything, I have taken from the experience that I should never take for granted “the hush,” the quiet, boring life that I love so much. The sometimes mundane day-to-day that we enjoy with no major health issues, no drama, few struggles. It’s a beautiful thing, and I am learning to appreciate it more than ever.
I am April, mommy to two beautiful baby girls, and wife to my high school sweetheart. I wear a lot of hats. Figuratively, not literally. Hats don't really look good on me...
