A woman in a charcoal pinstriped suit is standing in Walgreens ripping open a box of Infant Motrin that hasn't been paid for. She throws the cellophane onto the ground and tears into the thin cardboard box as if she were ravenous and the contents of the box were a seven course meal. If you looked at her closely you would see she was silently sobbing. Her chest rapidly rising and falling as the tears fall from her eyes. A look closer and you could clearly see her hands trembling, fumbling with the box. To the right of her is a wee little girl in a Ramones t-shirt and denim jacket sitting in a shopping cart, she is pale but has glowing red cheeks and her eyes are puffy and tired looking. She looks at the woman confused and amused at the same time and smiles while playing with a 2 foot red velvet rose from a Valentine display in the middle of the store.

The woman stopped what she was doing when she saw the little girl smile. She gently brought her hand to the little head, cupped it, and kissed her forehead. She began to cry again as the weight of the day began to compress down on her.

The night before the little girl began to run a fever and start lighty coughing. The woman, while rocking the little girl thought she must be getting the upper respiratory cold going around the daycare. She sighed at the thought of this, both for the misery her little girl would feel and for the inevitable passing of the cold to her. She gave her little girl some Motrin for the fever, tucked her into bed and went to bed herself making a mental note to call the pediatrician in the morning.

Hours passed and the woman was woken up with a start by the anxious and insistent cry of the little girl upstairs. It was a cry that immediately expressed urgency and the woman flew from her bed to her daughter's crib side. The little girl had woken up because her fever had returned and it was beginning to spike. The woman, startled at the intensity of the heat emanating from her daughter, rushed into the bathroom, little girl in her arms and immediately took her temperature. "That can't be right" she muttered and began to take the little girl's temperature from her other ear. The dial displayed the same number, 104. The woman began to run a tepid bath, remembering what she had read and not make it too cool, and put her daughter in the tub. The little girl, not knowing that anything was in fact wrong, began to play cheerfully with her bath toys. The fever broke in what seemed like an audible "pop" and the little girl's color returned to normal, although her nose was running and there was obviously some congestion.  The woman, relieved and still a little rattled, gave her daughter some more Motrin and rocked her back to sleep, silently thanking god the little girl had made it past the spike without any serious problems.

In the morning the woman got up and went to her daughter. She placed her hand timidly on the little girl's forehead and sighed an audible sigh of relief when it appeared the fever had completely gone away. It was then that she noticed the faint, high pitched wheezing coming from her daughter's chest as she breathed. Even above the rattling of the congestion and the coughing, you could definitely hear it. The woman thought to herself that the little girl's cold probably turned into an upper respiratory infection and took her daughter down for breakfast.

Everything that morning seemed normal to the woman, except of course that cough. The wheezing seemed to have stopped and there was no fever. Maybe her little girl was kicking whatever had been getting to her? So she dressed her daughter and herself and began her day, just like any other day. Only this time on the way to the daycare, she decided she better give her pediatrician a call, just in case. Maybe the doctor would be able to see the little girl later that afternoon.

The conversation with the nurse was a normal one, the woman gave her the details of little girl's temperature scare and her current symptoms, and then the woman mentioned the wheezing. The nurse stopped her mid-sentence and told her she needed to come in immediately and not to wait until the afternoon. The woman, who's heart was beginning to beat rapidly, called her work and told them what was happening.

Upon arriving at the doctor's office she was told to immediately go back to one of the rooms. Scared now, very scared now, she met with the doctor who immediately diagnosed her daughter with RSV Bronchiolitis and began to test her to determine her blood oxygen level. The doctor kept handing the woman sheet after sheet of information on RSV and talking, but the woman wasn't absorbing what was being said.  She heard parts and understood parts, a virus, severe this year, hospitals are overflowing, no treatment. But mainly what she heard was the little girl coughing on her lap and playing with her shoes. She was told they were going to try a breathing treatment with her to see if it would help open up her lunges and the woman thought to herself "My god, my baby can't breath" and felt tears and panic welling up inside her and she had to fight to keep it from overwhelming her. She and the little girl were taken into a room where there were spaceships painted on the walls and the nurse handed her the tiny plastic mask to put over her daughter's nose and mouth. She momentarily thought this couldn't possibly be happening and that surely she was dreaming, and it was at that moment that the loud hum of the nebulizer came on. The little girl fought the mask at first but soon discovered the fog she was breathing was helping open her lungs. She relaxed into the woman's arms and closed her eyes and the woman hummed softly as the little girl fell asleep.  When the treatment was over the doctor told her the little girl was very lucky because only a small percentage responded to the asthma medication she had just been given. If it hadn't of worked, if it hadn't of opened up her lunges, there would have been nothing they could have done accept to have hospitalized her. The woman was told the little girl would need a nebulizer and the doctor wrote out various prescriptions for medications, including an antibiotic for the ear infection he had also discovered.

The woman took her limp daughter and got back into her car. She drove to the pharmacy near her house, put the little girl in the cart and handed the pharmacist the prescriptions and her insurance card.  The woman and the little girl strolled around the store to pass the time while the prescriptions were being filled and arrangements were being made for the nebulizer. There was a display in the middle of the store her daughter was particular taken with and noticed the moment they had walked in so it was there she grabbed the large velvet rose so her daughter would have something to hang on to while they waited.

When she was called back to the pharmacy she was told her insurance company had denied coverage for the little girl and it was then that the weight on her shoulders became so very heavy. She took out her cell phone and called the 1-800 number on the back of the card and went through the never ending labyrinth of automated options and finally was able to verify coverage. She went back to the pharmacy and asked them to try again. She kept reminding herself to stay calm, they would be home soon, just stay calm.

By now she and her daughter had been in the store for an hour and the little girl was clearly getting very ill. She was coughing constantly and the woman could see her breathing was labored. She picked up the girl from the basket, velvet rose still in her hand and she felt the fever again. Hot, very hot. And she began to panic. In her mind she told herself what a terrible mother she was. How could she have let this happen? How could she have let her little girl fight for each breath? And the tears began to well inside her again.

She needed the medicine behind that counter, her daughter was clearly getting sicker, and there was nothing she could do except watch helplessly as the pharmacy technician worked her way through the same labyrinth she had just navigated herself. Her little girl put her head on her chest and she felt the fever through her suit, and she felt the little girl's abdominal muscles forcing the air in and out of her lungs. And she felt so alone. And she began to cry. It was then that she grabbed the box of Motrin and began ripping it open and it was there that she gave her daughter a dose of ibuprofen that hadn't been paid for.

Forty-five minutes later she was strapping the little girl into her carseat. She climbed into the car, put the keys in the ignition and drove home. The tears never stopped flowing.

As she laid her daughter down for the night, she placed her hand on the little chest and said aloud "give this to me, not her". There was no answer. So the woman turned and walked out the door, crying again as the guilt of a new mother raced through her.

Comments

[Karen]

I know all too well the story you write about. Gwen was diagnosed with RSV upon our arrival home from China and was subsequently hospitalized for it. Just continue to use your nebulizer on her. A cool mist humidifier will be your saving grace. You got the tepid bath down; your're doing great, Mom. And the fevers are scary - at her highest, Gwen's was 105.8 and she started seizing. If that happens with EB, don't panic. They appear much worse than they are. Doctors will confirm that. You are doing all the right things, so if you can, please try to rest when you can. RSV is oh so serious and unfortunately, RSV season won't be over for another month and a half. If I can help in any way, you know where to reach me. Sorry for all the assvice but wanted you to know that you are not alone and your little sweetie, EB, will continue to improve with flying colors.

Get well wishes from NC,
Karen

[diana]

So sorry you and Emma have to go through this. I learned a lot from your post and feel better prepared if I have to deal with the same thing. You're the best momma for Emma and that new mom guilt is just plain evil (does it ever go away?). Get well soon, Emma.

[Jessi]

I'm thinking good thoughts for Emma and the woman in the charcoal pinstripe suit...

[tracey]

Oh hon. I feel your pain... I know what it is to have a seriously ill baby and to feel the guilt and pain... I hope she gets past this quickly (for both of your sakes)...

[wzgirl]

OMG. How fucking scary. I can only imagine.

Sincere hugs.

[Carrie]

You're doing great. You're behaving totally normally. Get well both of you soon. Thank you for sharing what is one of the worst things a mum can go through.

[justdawn]

Both of my boys got RSV at the same time. One was 2 and the other, just 8 months old. It was such a scary time...but rest assured that you are doing all of the right things.

I will be thinking get well thoughts for EB and uplifting thoughts for her Momma:)

[danielle]

I hope Emma feels better soon. You are a great mom. Chin up!!

[Sara]

Be well, Little EB. Stay strong, Mama.

[spacemom]

Hoping that Emma feels better soon and that the woman in the suit can start to relax.

Steph- this is parenting. This is totally giving your soul for another person. This is love....

I am glad she is not in the hospital.. BTDT and it is scary