Wednesday, March 16, 2022

March 16, 2015

Since 2015 the month of March has always been a difficult one.  I am pretty sure over the 5 March's Sonzee lived she was hospitalized at least one week out of March every year, and the dates overlapped 3 or 4 of those times.  I dislike the month of March in general, but this afternoon into the evening my body started to feel different.  This is definitely one of those things that is hard to explain, but anyone who has experienced a trauma of some sort in their lives can most probably relate.  Something started to nag at me, I couldn't place it.  I was feeling extra anxious, extra weight in my chest, and while it makes zero sense when I start to get my antsy anxiety I drink a cup of coffee. (Don't worry, it is 10:45pm and I opted for decaf, and yes I know the caffeine isn't helpful for anxiety, now moving on).  I made one of my fancier concoctions of coffee and sat down at my computer knowing I was feeling something Sonzee-related, but not quite sure what. Then as I normally do when I am feeling on the edge, I went to google photos and typed the date, March 16.  I realized quickly why my body was on edge.

March 16, 2015.  The official date that life forever changed.  The first night I would spend staying up all night and into the next morning not sleeping while waiting in the Phoenix Children's Hospital ER.  The night that I decided on my own that I had to trust my gut, the gut everyone else was telling me was just being neurotic.  The first night I recorded a seizure, not even really certain that was what it was, but yet knowing in the recesses of my soul that was exactly what those movements were that Sonzee had been doing.  March 16, 2015, was the night I called the after-hours line for the pediatrician's office and flatly told them I would be taking Sonzee to the ER because she had her second seizure.  They told me to call an ambulance. I told them that felt excessive. Since Sam wasn't home I called my neighbor instead. March 16, 2015, we sat in the overflow area of the old PCH ER during cold and flu season, with a brand new baby who was unvaccinated.  I was panicking. March 16, 2015, was the night I didn't understand how a newborn baby seizing wasn't the highest priority child in the ER, the rest of her life would teach me that.  

It is amazing to me how the body remembers but the mind can move the memories to a hidden bookshelf. 7 years ago today, around this time exactly I took a maybe 7lb little baby to the hospital with a video of her shaking in tow not even thinking further than someone was going to confirm my suspicions, tell me she was seizing, and send us home.  I honestly to this day do not know what I thought was going to happen, but I didn't even pack a hospital bag, (rookie mistake). 7 years ago today I can still feel all the feelings I felt. 7 years ago today I can remember the sites and sounds of that ER.  7 years ago today I could tell you the words spoken to every nurse and doctor. 7 years ago today as she seized again I mentioned to the ER nurse how horrible it was to watch her seize and she responded with "you'll get used to it". 7 years ago today I wanted to punch her in the face, but never thought to ask her how she knew that.  7 years ago today and I know how much that statement is true, eventually, sadly, I did get used to seeing them, but I never got used to not wanting to cry watching her having them. 

March 16, 2015, a day that marked the beginning of a story that wouldn't last more than 4 years 11 months, and 23 days, but also the beginning of reliving the trauma of those 4 years 11 months, and 23 days for my forever. 

The Mighty Contributor

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