Cool headed, er, um, Luke

This past Wednesday morning at about 2:30am my youngest son woke up coughing and crying. We still have a monitor in his room so I heard him and went down expecting to cover him back up and return to my warm blanket. This is what I was expecting ...

When I got to his room, he was sitting on his bed gasping for breath. He couldn't get a good breath! I started to panic a little. As I assessed the situation looking for some cause that I could remove, I called my wife down as well. She suggested that we try the steam from the shower in the bathroom. That didn't seem to work so we tried a hot bath and some Tylenol. He was still gasping, his breathing labored by severe congestion. As we got him in the bath, my wife commented that based on what we were witnessing, he likely already had bronchitis and, if left untreated, it could turn into pneumonia. Still in a state of panic, I went up stair to get my pants on, ready to take him to the emergency room.

Realizing that maybe I was getting a little ahead of the game, I went back down to the bathroom. He had calmed down a little and, though still laboring quite a bit, there were signs of change -- of improvement. Other than his breathing, he seemed to be doing OK. No fever. Nothing else abnormal. About an hour later, he was doing well enough that I had calmed down and my initial shock and fear were almost gone. A few unproductive coughs confirmed that he was still severely congested, but he could at least breath well again.

We decided to prop his pillows and see if he could go back to sleep. My wife, the maternalistic martyr, decided to sleep on the floor next to his bed as a comfort to him and so that we could react more quickly should the need arise again before morning. I went back to bed to try to catch a few more winks before getting up to head to work. I tried, but it didn't work. It took another 45 mins or so before I could finally get back to sleep, convincing myself that over her own snor..., I mean guttural breathing, my wife would hear him quickly and react as needed. I woke up every 1/2 hour or so, straining to hear his breaths over the monitor for some assurance that he was still OK.

I must have finally given in to the need for sleep, because the next thing I remember, I awoke to the second alarm, having hit the snooze button without even knowing it. I went into my son's room to check on him and as I cracked the door, I saw his huge smile greeting me across the room. He was OK, at least for now.

Although my wife and I are back to sharing our bed at night, every night since then, I wake up on a schedule about every two hours to make sure that I can hear him on the monitor. I've gone to his room a few times just as an added precaution a few times (and checked on the other two while was up). If you're having trouble breathing, it's not like you can yell -- "Help! I can't breathe." Like my wife recalls from her childhood... When her brothers were pestering her and had her in a headlock or were tickling her too hard, she would say "Stop! I can't breathe." They would retort, "You can't talk if you can't breathe."

We still haven't gotten him in to the doctor, afraid of feeling foolish when they sent us home with a note to give decongestant 3-4 times a day and continue on. He's feeling much better now and all that gunk in his chest is finally making it out via his nose (sorry for the visual).

This whole experience has taught me a few things. First, that being a parent, loving your child, you really do feel helpless when there's not a quick fix that you can apply to make all the pain and the bad go away. I was really scared and started thinking about what would happen if we couldn't get things under control. "There's a fire station at the end of our street, 1/2 mile away, that's the closest 'medical' facility...the Emergency room is on what road? No that's too far..." I would tell myself. I'm still trying to let go of the whole situation.

Second, I was reminded of how my wife and I morph to take whatever role the other needs. She's usually the one who freaks out and overreacts (if only in my eyes, and only slightly) with things. That night it was I who took on that role while she shifted and took control of the situation. She calmed him down, deciding that was the first thing to do. Then she went for the remedies we had at hand - Tylenol to reduce the swelling (I hadn't even thought about that part of it), and the steam to loosen the phlegm. Though we were both awoken from sleep, she's the one that was able to keep it together. Thanks Hon!

That's what being a partner, part of a pair, is all about. Looking out for each other and being the better half as the need arises. Parenting is a LOT of work. There is no instruction manual. There are no do-evers. There is only doing the best you can. Learning from each other, from mistakes and moving on. I'm glad I've got my wife along on that journey.