Our Christmas Trip to the ER

    We have a joke at our house: If it’s vacation, someone is bound to get sick. Our first Christmas home to WA after moving to IL, Ella had her first ear infection and it was a killer. She was up all night and generally miserable. This Christmas, Ezra decided it was his turn.
    The poor guy’s been stuffy for awhile, but sleeping fairly well, eating fine, and being his generally busy self. He seemed to be feeling a bit worse on Christmas Eve and less interested in eating, but we were praying it wouldn’t get worse. The next morning, our little guy didn’t look so good, had spit up in his bed, and wasn’t very interested in breakfast (rare for this marathon eater). He perked up a bit during some of the present opening, then had enough when he threw up breakfast.

You can just see he’s not feeling that great.

    We bathed, cuddled, and cleaned him up, then put him down for a nap, hoping sleep would help. When I took his temp and it was 101.9 and his breathing became more rapid, I decided to call our insurance nurses line. Our girl had pneumonia this year, so I remembered how quickly it can come on and how the doctor explained it is especially dangerous for baby’s kidneys if left untreated. The nurse recommended we take him in to get checked, so I went to the only walk-in option in town, the ER. There is one a bit farther away, but I didn’t want to make him endure the drive, plus I thought it would be better if he was admitted 3 minutes from home, if necessary, rather than 45.
    I hated the thought of being “that mom.” You know, the one who rushes in for every scrape and cough. But my experience with Ella told me that you shouldn’t ignore the rapid breathing and he couldn’t tell us how badly he felt. Although ER staff are not, well, the warmest, I was thankful I’d brought him in when his first rectal temp showed over 103. The kid was boiling hot, so we stripped him to his cloth diaper and they gave him tylenol and pedialite. I don’t know if it was the little bottle or what, but he wanted that unflavored pedialite more than he wanted anything else and he’s still drinking it at home.
   His oxygen level was never in a dangerous zone, luckily, but he sounded like a baby Darth Vador. It was low enough that they treated him a couple of times with breathing treatments. For Ezra’s second Christmas, he got the following from the ER:
3 rectal temps
2 breathing treatments
1 X-ray (involving a weird chair to hold him still that looks like a torture device)
1 shot of antibiotics
and a diagnosis of pneumonia.
  I am so grateful his oxygen levels were high, so they allowed me to (finally) bring him home. After two hours of holding a crying, feverish, frustrated, moaning baby, I was so happy to bring home a baby with a 98.8 temp who was talking and even half-smiling a bit.
  Today, Ezra is feeling much better. Interested in food, but then not really wanting to eat it. Crawling around like crazy, then wearing himself out. After spending a night with one child in the hospital this year, I am incredibly grateful we were able to bring him home! I am also so thankful for sweet friends who brought us Christmas dinner when we couldn’t make it to their house. Nothing could have tasted more delicious after a long afternoon in the ER with no lunch!

Despite Ezra’s sickness, we truly did have a wonderful, relaxing Christmas. Photos and memories to come tomorrow (or Monday)! Happy weekend!