Part 3: The night we could've lost Brody

Read part 1 & part 2 first.

"Da da," Brody said looking at Klay who is standing in front of him.

A few gasps of relief fell out of Klay and I, along with the strangers in the room. Everyone stopped talking; all focus was on Brody.

"Hey, buddy," Klay said immediately moving down on the floor to be close to Brody.

Brody looks around examining everyone, rolls over and sits my lap. I can't imagine his confusion. Last thing he knew, it was the three of us. Now there's a room of at least 10 people.

Everyone is talking to him. "Look at all of these people who came to see you Bro. Can you say hi?" I say trying to see if he would talk.

He responded by smiling; that was a good sign.

The paramedics explain that it was most likely a febrile seizure caused by an illness and a sudden spike in fever. "I just don't get it. He wasn't shaking like a seizure," I said to them.

The police officer advises us to take him to Children's Hospital in Dallas to get checked out. Klay and I scramble to get our things together as they place Brody on the stretcher. Now, he brings out the water works. He doesn't like being strapped down and taken away from the house with these strange people.

Since they only allow one person in the ambulance, Klay said he'll follow in my car and make the calls to our parents.

The ride in the ambulance was loud, bumpy and cold. There was a chance of sleet that night, and it was sprinkling while we were en route.

Brody became a little restless and anxious, but fell asleep just before we arrived. In the meantime, I answered all of the paramedic's questions and called our parents and my sister to update them and ensure he was OK. They ask if they should to come out to Children's but I told them to hold off because of the bad weather and I'd keep them posted once we talked to the doctor.

By the time we got there it was probably 11:30 p.m. or so. We were exhausted and Brody's diaper needing changing. His pants were soiled and it seemed he suffered from loose bowels during the seizure.

The doctor agreed it was a febrile seizure. Even though he didn't shake, he was rigid which is less common, but that's what they diagnosed.

Apparently, febrile seizures are hereditary. What I didn't know then is that it runs in my family on my mom's side. Febrile seizures is mostly common among kids, and there is a chance he may have more until the age of 5-6. It normally phases off then. They also said this may be his only one; he may never have another.

I've always heard from people through the years that high fever can cause seizures. I think this is misleading to those who don't know much about febrile seizures. They are much more common than you'd think, according to doctors. Take a look at these facts from the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Strokes:

• Approximately one in every 25 children will have at least one febrile seizure, and more than one-third of these children will have additional febrile seizures before they outgrow the tendency to have them. 
• Febrile seizures usually occur in children between the ages of 6 months and 5 years and are particularly common in toddlers.
• Children rarely develop their first febrile seizure before the age of 6 months or after 3 years of age. 
• The older a child is when the first febrile seizure occurs, the less likely that child is to have more.

If you take away anything from this story, let it be this: It is not how high the temperature gets, but the sudden spike in fever that causes them. I'm not saying high fever won't cause them to convulse but what I've been told, the sudden spike is the primary cause. The fever is accompanied with illness, obviously; it's the illness though that lowers their threshold for seizures. And a sudden spike either up or down can cause someone to seize. That's why doctors say never put them in a cold bath, don't keep them covered if they're warm, etc.

OK, back to that night:

The nurses and doctors had been in and out checking Brody's fever with a temporal scanner (aka head thermometer). I have a beef with these devices. In my experiences with these devices they are more than a few points away from an accurate reading. Remember when I talked about Bro being sick two weeks prior to this incident? Well, while I was at the doctor's office with Brody, he was running fever and we could tell from touching his forehead. The nurse used a temporal scanner to check it and it came out normal. She voiced that he felt feverish to her, so she wanted to double check. She went to grab an ear thermometer and it read 102.1. That is a ridiculous difference, people! He had woke up running fever the night prior to that, and it read 101.5, but he felt really hot to Klay and I. We used a temporal scanner, which probably meant it was much much higher than that. Later that day I went and purchased an ear thermometer for better accuracy.

Because most doctor's offices and hospitals use these thermometers, we carry our ear thermometer wherever we go.

When I asked Children's to take it another way, they said they didn't have anything else (except for rectal). That was either BS or laziness; I think both.

We had ours on hand and checked it, I mentioned this to the doctor and nurses, who disregarded it. Brody still had a fever, but it wasn't quite as high (around 100ish). But by their records it was 98, so he was in the clear.

They discharged us at 1-ish a.m. and Klay brought the car around front so B and I didn't have to walk far in the cold.

Leave it to me to get lost on my way out of the hospital (while still inside, mind you), calling Klay on his cell to come and find me. I'm directionally challenged.

Once the hubs rescues us, we walk out to the car, covering Brody with Klay's jacket and strapping him into his carseat. He is awake. I sat in the back with Brody just in case something were to happen on the way home. I wasn't letting this kid out of sight anytime soon.

Unfortunately, I'm wedged between two carseats. I watched my niece that week and needed the extra seat in the car.

I call my mom to let her know we were on the highway headed home. She asked all of the questions and I explained to her the docs said.

We're about to go under Klyde Warren Park (which is on a bridge for those who aren't from Dallas) when I see Brody convulsing.

"Oh my god. He's doing it again! No, no, he's doing it agaaaain," I sob.

Mom: "Get him back to the hospital. I am on my way." Click.

Klay turned on the light speeding to get off at the next exit.

This time Brody's hands are balled in fists in front of him like he's ready to box. His head has fallen on his right shoulder. His teeth grinding against each other. A small groan and hum comes from his tiny mouth.

"Whyyyyyy is this happening?" I bellowed while Klay tries to find his way back to the hospital.

"His lips are turning blue! I need to take him out!" I say trying to undo his buckles. It was too bumpy and too crazy to actually pull him out in all this chaotic driving. We were stopping abruptly, and picking up speed quickly downtown.

"I can't while you're driving!"

Klay pulls over swung open the door rushing to the passenger side back door where Brody is. I've got him out of the carseat, Klay grabs him turns him on his side and pats him on his back.

The icy, wet air is making me shiver. I'm watching Klay pat Brody in horror. I look at the clock to check the time 1:19 a.m.

Brody's lip is no longer as blue, but he's still shaking. His teeth still grinding. The slightest groan sneaking out between his clenched jaw. I'll never forget that sound, that moan.

"I'll have to hold him the rest of the way," I say to Klay who handed him to me.

Hauling ass back to the hospital, unsure of where to go, Klay managed to make it back in less than 3-4 minutes. Thank God, he was driving and not me.

I cradled Brody talking to him in his ear, still sobbing. We arrived back at the ambulance entrance, I instruct Klay to run him in. I'm wedged between the two carseats, my fat rear will have trouble enough getting out alone.

I pass Brody over my console back to Klay who parked the car in the entrance. Carrying Brody, Klay jets back into the hospital.

I crawl into the front seat to park the car, but I can't move. I'm alone now, and I can't control the crying. I've never felt pain or fear like this before.

I sit there for a few minutes weeping unable to function from fear that something else might be wrong with Brody.

I just cried and cried.

I muddled up the last bit of strength I had to park the car and run into the hospital to be there for my son. I had to stay strong for him. I needed to know what was happening to him. Was this febrile seizures or was it something else? And why had he had two in less than 4 hours?

These were the questions I needed answered.

I knew one thing though--I could not watch him go through that again.

Click here for Part 4...

Part 2: The night we could've lost Brody

Read Part 1 first.

A few days after this nightmare.

Klay lays Brody on the floor in our living room. I swipe my phone, mistyping my password twice, forgetting about the emergency feature on the iphone. My heart is beating fast; thoughts racing in my head. Everything was fine. His temperature was high. Is it a seizure? He's not shaking. No, he's not shaking. 

Tears pour down my face as I begin to take in the reality of what's happening. I dial 911. It rings for what seems like an eternity. I start screaming before they answer.

10:13 p.m.

Dispatcher: "911, what is your emergency?"

Me: "My son, my son... he is unresponsive... he was running a fever today. He's almost 2, he's 22 months and he's not responding to us... He's 22 months. He's not 2. He's not responding to us. Get someone here!" I said as I ramble off my address.

I remember getting caught up on how old he was, saying the wrong age the whole time.

Dispatcher: "Ma'am I need you to calm down so I can understand you."

HOLY SHIT WOMAN. Seriously!? I said it plain as day, I thought as I tried to collect myself to repeat the address. Ok, pull it together, don't be one of those frantic people on the 911 tapes who can't calm down. I breathe in and out.

I'm on my knees a few feet from my nearly two-year-old son staring at his tiny body. He's much smaller than an average kid at this age; only in the 25th percentile. He was wearing a size 2T green Mavericks t-shirt that was too big for him. His pajama pants don't match his shirt. I rock back and forth staring talking to Brody and the dispatcher.

He wasn't moving, he wasn't shaking, he wasn't blinking, he was still--he just stared. There was no light behind his pretty blue eyes. He was fading.

Back to me being the crazy 911-caller...

I'm screaming, "You have to get someone here!"

Dispatcher: "Someone is on their way. What happened today? He was running fever? Is he shaking?"

"Yes he ran fever... It was 103.1... I gave him Motrin and he's not responding... he's just looking up. He's not moving. He's not moving. Oh, God...," I say turning my attention back to Brody.

"Brody, Brody it's mama. Brody! Get someone here now." I cry out.

Dispatcher: "We have someone on their way, OK? Just try to stay calm. Is he breathing?"

Klay is talking to him and trying to see if he's breathing. And then, things take a turn for the worst.

His color began to change; he turns blue.

I've never seen someone turn blue in my life. His lips were the first sign he stopped breathing. Then his whole face and body started to change a bluish-purple I'd only seen in movies.

Klay: "Oh my God, Brody, Brody, buddy. NO, NO, NO. Brody! He's blue!"

Me: "Oh my God, he's turning blue," I sob. "He's not breathing, you have to hurry. He's blue. Why can't I hear you? They aren't coming, they aren't coming... Why I can't hear youuuuuu..." I cry out.

I should hear sirens, it's been at least 10 minutes...

I hysterically rock back and forth, not believing what I'm seeing. How is this happening? 

While I'm the crazy, inconsolable, panicking mother, Klay is being a savior.

THERE IS A REASON WHY I MARRIED THIS MAN. But that night he showed me just how strong and how reactive he is. Klay is a problem solver and a quick thinker. I'm on my knees distraught, but this man turns Brody on his side and starts patting his back, patting and patting. He's doing something. I'm just a sobbing mom kneeling a few feet away... paralyzed.

"C'mon Brody. C'mon," Klay says.

Pat, pat, pat, pat.

Brody throws up.

"He threw up, he's coughing," I said into the phone. "Brody. Brody. Brody? It's mama."

I hear the dispatcher talking on the radio to someone, clearly not me.

Klay and I continue to talking to him as the dispatcher tries to talk to us to see what's happening. I put her on speaker, so Klay can listen to her instructions (now, she wants to give me directions or maybe I was too hysterical to give directions to).

I pick up the dogs and toss them into our bedroom slamming the door. I knew the paramedics would arrive soon and we wouldn't have time to tend to the dogs. I open the front door and the cool, icy air whisked threw the house. I finally hear the faint sound of sirens.

I'm still holding my phone trying to direct Klay on what to do, but when I move I accidentally hit the 'END' button. OMG, seriously? Stupid touch phone. WTF.

I wait for them to call me back and nothing. Finally I call again, they transfer me and then I'm talking some more.

"Ok, he's coughing," I say to the dispatcher. "But he's not looking at us. Brody, look at mama, Brody it's mama. Brody, baby, it's mama."

I see the bright red and blue lights flashing through our open front door. A police officer bursts into the house. Loud and clearly in a hurry. His urgency made me think he knew this was a child. Keys and tools jingling at his waist as he kneels on the floor to assess Brody.

"He stopped breathing and threw up," Klay points to the rug showing the officer where it was.

Klay starts to tell the officer what happened. Dispatch asked if the officer needed them to remain on the line for medical instructions; the officer said no so we hung up--this time on purpose. Since Brody was breathing there wasn't anything we could do but wait for the paramedics.

Meanwhile, Klay looks at the throw up to see if there were any items in it that may of choked him. Nothing was there, besides some dark forest green strands of goo. I now think this is what blocked his airway--drainage from the previous weeks.

Brody's body starts to shiver. It's actually more like a jerk rather than a shake, but it looks like he's cold, not seizure-like.

The cop asks if he's ever done this before, meaning the jerking motion.

"No, never." I say.

The cold air is flowing through the house giving us all a bit of a chill. About six or seven Forney firemen suddenly jog into the house.

All of them asking questions:

"What happened?"
"He was running fever?"
"Has he ever done this before?"
"Has he ever shaken like this before?"
"Does he ever not respond to your voice like that?"

Klay and I answer as best as we can. They explain that it's common in febrile seizures (caused by a sudden spike in fever) to be disoriented after an episode. "It usually takes some time until they snap out of it," one of them says.

10:37 p.m.

Twenty-four minutes later, the paramedics arrive. They walk in, kneel down and I give them some space. They encourage me to keep talking to Brody to see if he will react.

"He's breathing so there isn't much we can do. If it was a seizure, it will take him a bit to return back to his normal state," one of them says.

Just an hour ago, I was enjoying cooking a homemade dinner with my son. It was just the three of us. Now, we're surrounded by ten or more men with my little boy on the floor still not responding--voices, men moving about the room, the blue and red lights that still shined through the open front door--but he remained unaware of it all.

I just wanted my vivacious little Brody back.

The officer asks Klay to stand and talk to him re-explain what happened. Klay is now in Brody's eyeline. Brody is still staring up toward the ceiling, but if he were to move his eyes down just a bit he would be able to see his dad. His eyes were moving but never landing on anything, just swaying side to side gazing at the ceiling. He doesn't look like he's actually looking at anything. He doesn't turn his head toward my voice even though I'm near his ears talking to him.

Then I heard the sweetest sound... a sound, a voice, and a moment that will forever be etched in my memory...

"Da da?"

Little did I know this roller coaster ride was far from over...

Click here for Part 3.

Part 1: The night we could've lost Brody

When you're a parent, you hope and pray for the best for your child. You don't imagine becoming a news story or a tragedy-stricken family, so instead you let go of being the overly cautious I-have-to-take-my-kid-to-the-doctor-cause-he-sneezes-parent and ease up on worrying about your kids in certain places or certain situations.

I think that's natural. I can't count how many times my child runs into things and hits his "nog nog," as my husband calls it, and I think one day this kid is going to bust his head open or cause some permanent damage.

You can try to prevent these things all day--and yes, the thought of making your son wear a safety helmet crosses your mind at each kerplunk!--but then you think that's a little much, right? Or is it? At what length would you go to protect your child?

Napping earlier that day.

Let me start this story by clearing things up a bit. No, we've never made Brody wear a helmet just cause he's bumped his head more times than I can count. And no, he's never had a concussion. But we HAVE joked about how all these bumps and bruises may affect him one day. Honestly, sometimes I feel like Brody is Billy Bob from "Varsity Blues" or in "Not Another Teen Movie" and he only has X number of times left where he can hit his head without causing a major damage.

So this post isn't about Brody hitting his head; it's about a night that I'll never forget and that will forever make me a crazy, cautious mom that takes their kid to the doctor when her child runs a slight fever. I will forever going to be 'that mom'.

It all started on Friday, Nov. 22, 2013.

 I'd been at home all day with Brody cooking some Thanksgiving goodies. I was making a turkey, homemade cornbread and homemade dressing to help with our family Thanksgiving at my g-ma's that Sunday. I noticed Brody felt warm around 5-6 p.m., took his temp and it was 100.7. I gave him Tylenol and it went back to normalish. Despite having a cough, he'd been acting more than his usual rambunctious self.

BUT, he had been coughing for two weeks.

OK, OK hold the judgements, folks. I know what you're thinking... Why the hell didn't you take him to the doctor?

Two weeks prior, he'd had strep throat and ran 103+ fever. He was given an antibiotic shot, clearing up his strep but started running fever again only two days later due to a newly-developed ear infection. He had a cough and we had made four trips to the doctor in a week and a half. With the weather changing and allergies, the doctors said he sounded clear in his chest, but to monitor it.

The cough would come and go. He may not cough all day for a few days, and then it would start up again. It really varied and it never sounded like he was congested, until the Friday before this horrific night. Here's a video of how rambunctious he is and how clumsy. This is from the night before...


So, Brody played and acted normal all day and the day before the episode. As a matter of fact, he was better than normal and was more playful then he had been in weeks. He did take a nap though--in the middle of the day--so I knew he didn't feel good and was extremely tired. This boy hardly naps any more.

Making homemade cornbread.

When Klay got home from work, I started to make the homemade cornbread and enlisted in some help from my lil' chef. Brody was still doing ok, playing and happy as ever. Nothing seemed odd or off. He helped me pour, stir and pour again. This kid loves to cook!

Around 9 p.m., Brody started to get tired. Soon after, his fever started to rise and was at 100ish. It wasn't quite time to give Brody more medicine yet, so we continuously checked his temp in the meantime.

I was trying to figure out where he was going to sleep. We'd had a strict 'no kid' policy when it came to our bed, or at least we tried to. Brody has slept in our bed before, at various stages, but we never made it a routine. When he's been sick, we've had the pack-n-play out and laid him in that, which stayed in our room or I camped out with him on the couch, but we just moved it out of the house. So as all this was going on, I was trying to decide if he would sleep with us or if one of us sleep on the couch with him. At this point it had been low-grade fever so I even contemplated putting him in his room instead of with us.

Around 10 o'clock, I gave Brody some Motrin. He was whining and couldn't get comfortable on the couch. I held him while Klay checked his temperature again. This time it was at 103.1.

I laid Brody down on the couch and then got up to get a wet rag, and when I was coming back Klay was talking to Brody. It was dark in the living room and Brody was laying flat on his back staring at the ceiling.

I sat down next to Brody's head on the couch (Brody was wedged between us; Brody facing Klay). It was dark, so I couldn't quite see Brody's face.

"Brooody. Hey, bud," he said touching his head.

"Brody. Hey, Brody. Brody... Brody... Brody!" Klay yelled.

"Oh my God, Cass, Cass! Call 911 or get in the car!"

My heart started pounding from the urgency in Klay's voice. I snatched my phone and turned on the light and swung around to look at Klay who is now standing and picking up Brody.

Brody's head falls by Klay's shoulder and arm, and then away from Klay when Klay tries to get a better look at him.

Brody's eyes rolled up toward his forehead; Klay supported his head with his hand.

His arms and legs dangled. The rest of his body went limp.

We yelled and said his name, but got nothing--just a blank stare with no signs of our sweet boy behind it.

He was unresponsive.

That's when I could see why Klay reacted as he did.

My son looked as if he was no longer in his body. 

He was lifeless.

Click here to read Part 2.