This week my daughter had a febrile seizure. What most doctors would classify as a typical and normal neurological behaviour when body temperature skyrocket too fast became 5 mins of hell for me.
In a split second, I saw my 18 month old preparing herself to throw a tantrum just lose consciousness and convulse uncontrollably…
…the worst part is I could do nothing about it. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t make her anymore comfortable. I couldn’t communicate with her. I only could watch in horror. Pray and plead that the Holy Ghost Almighty would provide me with some type assurance that this wasn’t my fault. That I didn’t somehow cause this. That I didn’t in fact put my daughter’s health at risk. That I didn’t do enough to prevent this.
No, all I could do was pray over her. I told her that I was here. I told my daughter that I was here.
Despite it all, God gave me a plan. I knew I had to wait. Wait for it to pass, because this too shall pass. After a minute she stopped and slowly drifted off into a nap.
I picked up the phone and called the ambulance. Then I called my husband tearfully and explained the situation. He was at work and would meet us at the hospital.
Febrile seizures aren’t life threatening though they look it. Today my daughter is perfectly healthy with no sign of any type of trauma. But I’m still scared.
I’m afraid because I know that I can not keep her from danger. I can’t and I never will. All I can do is my best even when my best isn’t enough.
I can warn her, I can love and I teach her. The rest is up to her…
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