He Takes My Heart With Him

Fear

Sunday night, I put Jack to bed at 8pm. He was perfect. Everything was right. There were no warnings of what was to come.

At 1:30am, Jack woke up, crying. I went to his crib and was prepared to give him his pacifier and soothe him back to sleep. But I could already tell that his cry was different. He was lying on his stomach, his legs curled up under him, his bottom in the air. I felt a wave of fear as I reached down and picked him up.

He didn't uncurl his legs. He kept them rigid and held up tight by his stomach as I lifted him. I felt my fear grow and I cuddled him against me, his legs taut between us. He continued to cry and I could tell he was in pain. I pressed my lips to his forehead and felt the fever growing there. My chest tightened and I carried him into the living room, where I took his temperature, 102 degrees, and tried to comfort him. Every time my hand would accidently brush against his back, he would scream and then sob. I woke my husband and told him. "There's something wrong with Jack." He swung out of bed and followed us out to the living room where he watched our baby cry in pain. "I'm paging the neurosurgeons," I said, and found the number to call. As I waited for them to call, Jack vomited. I felt panic and terror wash over me as I watched him in my husband's arms. "I'm taking him to the ER, no matter what the neurosurgeons say," I told my husband and quickly got into some clothes and packed a bag for Jack. Still no call from the neurosurgeons and Jack vomited again. I was done waiting.

I took Jack out to the car. My husband would stay with our other kids until my sister could get there. I put him into his car seat and a fresh terror began. Jack screamed and arched his back, clenching his hands into fists, cocking his head up and to the side. His left eye closed and, with his right eye, he looked straight at me, begging me to help him. I swept him back out of the car seat and turned, pleadingly, to my husband. "What do I do?," I sobbed, "What do I do?" My husband, scared and helpless, ordered me to go. "Put him in his car seat and drive him to Ingham (the hospital only five minutes from our house). Go! Right now!" Crying, I buckled our little baby back in his car seat. He screamed, clenched, arched, and closed his eye, again. I drove down the residential road to the hospital at 70 mph, wondering if my little boy was having a seizure behind me.

We flew into the emergency room and, after the ER doctors heard about his surgery and examined him, things began to move very quickly. Sitting on a chair in the little ER room, holding my son, I heard Jack's doctor give the orders. "Arrange an ambulance transport to Mott's Children's Hospital right now. We'll start IV antibiotics in the ambulance." I sobbed and clung to Jack. I tried to pray, but could only manage the same thing, over and over, "God, please help him. Please help him. God, please help him."