We have this ratty crib mattress with Cinderella sheets that we keep around to occasionally use as a raft when the kids play boats or a wrestling mat or a surfboard for launching little sisters down the basement stairs. It also makes a fantastic sick bed. When my babies (yes, even the "baby" who is now 8) get sick, I like them close. Last night, I watched, helpless as Mister had a fever that turned into a seizure that turned into several terrifying moments when I was sure that we had lost him, right there on that crib mattress.
I am familiar with febrile seizures, but because he hadn't had any since he was two, I wasn't prepared for how it would feel to watch him rigid and unresponsive afterward. A post-seizure baby is very different from a big boy so spent that he can't speak. In those dark moments I wondered what life would be like for him and for all of us if this thing that happened to him transformed him forever.
Nate remained calm, spoke to him with love when there was no light in his eyes, prayed that he would return.
And he did. Thank you Jesus for your hand on this one. For giving us days upon days with him. For reminding me that life is always fragile. Thank you for cinderella sheets on an old crib mattress.
Please pray for Everett while we await test results and (I hope) next steps.