Waking up in our own beds this morning was a thing of beauty. It was so special, in fact, Mia opted to do it at 2am, 3am, 6am, and again at 7am. Sleeplessness has always been an issue for our little princess, and now we have a better grasp as to why.
Thanks to the EEG that was performed Monday morning, the doctors found an abnormality in the way Mia's brain processes and transmits certain stimuli and signals. This causes sleeplessness, which leads to agitation, which increases her already heightened risk for seizures. The doctors' theory is prolonged sleeplessness, compounded by being so sick with strep throat, and complicated by a fall she had on Friday where she hit her head, resulted in the perfect storm that caused the seizures. She is on a medication to address these issues, but it will take time to build up in her system, and the doctors want that process to happen slowly. Mia will take half-doses this week, and if her system is tolerating it well, she will be on the full-dose beginning Saturday. The good news is physiologically speaking, her brain is normal and healthy!
As I resumed my morning routine today, it occurred to me that I had not consumed one bit of sports or political news since my beloved Bulldogs were washed away in a Crimson Tide on a rainy Saturday in Athens. I was upset about the game, concerned by events in the Middle East, and saddened by the tragedy in Oregon when I awoke on Sunday morning. But in a moment when the typical cries of my toddler daughter to alert me she was awake were replaced by the horrifying sounds of choking and gagging, everything else took its proper place in my ordering of priorities. It is hard to worry, let alone even think, about events over which I have no control many miles away from home (even including the Classic City east of Atlanta) when watching your child suffer, vomit, and seize on the floor. I was yelling for help, but no one could hear me. So in a rush of instinctual action, I raced to Piedmont Newnan, running through the parking lot in the rain to the ER where three nurses and a physician took over to help our little girl.
In moments like those, the things of this earth truly do grow strangely dim. That was just beginning a 3-day process that had me as scared, stressed, and exhausted as I had ever been. Yet through it all, I knew we were not alone. Tiffany and I prayed together and over our little girl. Family swooped in to care for Ethan, our household, and us at Scottish Rite so we could direct all of our energy to Mia. We received hundreds of notes, posts, texts, emails, and phone calls from friends genuinely asking what could be done to help. We appreciate them all! We truly do.
So we are home again this morning trying to settle back into the cocoon for the remaining time we have before work schedules resume. Though still thoroughly exhausted from a profound lack of sleep – not just this week, but over the last six – I find a renewed sense of joy rocking my little girl while I sip on my coffee and she on her apple juice. I look around and our house that Tiffany's parents worked so hard to clean and prepare for our return home is cluttered by a 3-year-old rediscovering her toys with an enthusiasm worthy of Christmas morning. And you know what? I couldn't be happier.
Seeing Mia so relieved and playful in her home brings great joy to Tiffany and me. We are working hard to create a safe and loving space for her to grow into the person God created her to be. And though we were afraid the trauma of these past three days might hamper the trust being built in our family, I think the opposite is transpiring. I think Mia sees this place as her home, with Tiffany as her mommy and me as her daddy. A haven. A safe place. Mia's Place.
Last night as we resumed our bedtime regimen with stories and then tucked her into bed, she looked up at us and said with loving relief, "Mama. Daddy." Then she smiled, cuddled up with her sleep sheep, and found rest. It was one of the easiest times we've had getting her to bed. Sure, she still woke up a lot in the night, but after some very long and hard days, there was no screaming, no crying, no tantrums. There was peace.
We were home.
It was sublime.
And I couldn't be happier.
Thanks to the EEG that was performed Monday morning, the doctors found an abnormality in the way Mia's brain processes and transmits certain stimuli and signals. This causes sleeplessness, which leads to agitation, which increases her already heightened risk for seizures. The doctors' theory is prolonged sleeplessness, compounded by being so sick with strep throat, and complicated by a fall she had on Friday where she hit her head, resulted in the perfect storm that caused the seizures. She is on a medication to address these issues, but it will take time to build up in her system, and the doctors want that process to happen slowly. Mia will take half-doses this week, and if her system is tolerating it well, she will be on the full-dose beginning Saturday. The good news is physiologically speaking, her brain is normal and healthy!
As I resumed my morning routine today, it occurred to me that I had not consumed one bit of sports or political news since my beloved Bulldogs were washed away in a Crimson Tide on a rainy Saturday in Athens. I was upset about the game, concerned by events in the Middle East, and saddened by the tragedy in Oregon when I awoke on Sunday morning. But in a moment when the typical cries of my toddler daughter to alert me she was awake were replaced by the horrifying sounds of choking and gagging, everything else took its proper place in my ordering of priorities. It is hard to worry, let alone even think, about events over which I have no control many miles away from home (even including the Classic City east of Atlanta) when watching your child suffer, vomit, and seize on the floor. I was yelling for help, but no one could hear me. So in a rush of instinctual action, I raced to Piedmont Newnan, running through the parking lot in the rain to the ER where three nurses and a physician took over to help our little girl.
In moments like those, the things of this earth truly do grow strangely dim. That was just beginning a 3-day process that had me as scared, stressed, and exhausted as I had ever been. Yet through it all, I knew we were not alone. Tiffany and I prayed together and over our little girl. Family swooped in to care for Ethan, our household, and us at Scottish Rite so we could direct all of our energy to Mia. We received hundreds of notes, posts, texts, emails, and phone calls from friends genuinely asking what could be done to help. We appreciate them all! We truly do.
So we are home again this morning trying to settle back into the cocoon for the remaining time we have before work schedules resume. Though still thoroughly exhausted from a profound lack of sleep – not just this week, but over the last six – I find a renewed sense of joy rocking my little girl while I sip on my coffee and she on her apple juice. I look around and our house that Tiffany's parents worked so hard to clean and prepare for our return home is cluttered by a 3-year-old rediscovering her toys with an enthusiasm worthy of Christmas morning. And you know what? I couldn't be happier.
Seeing Mia so relieved and playful in her home brings great joy to Tiffany and me. We are working hard to create a safe and loving space for her to grow into the person God created her to be. And though we were afraid the trauma of these past three days might hamper the trust being built in our family, I think the opposite is transpiring. I think Mia sees this place as her home, with Tiffany as her mommy and me as her daddy. A haven. A safe place. Mia's Place.
Last night as we resumed our bedtime regimen with stories and then tucked her into bed, she looked up at us and said with loving relief, "Mama. Daddy." Then she smiled, cuddled up with her sleep sheep, and found rest. It was one of the easiest times we've had getting her to bed. Sure, she still woke up a lot in the night, but after some very long and hard days, there was no screaming, no crying, no tantrums. There was peace.
We were home.
It was sublime.
And I couldn't be happier.
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