My Poor Little Baby

People often ask me how I handle Samantha's seizures. I tell them that you get used to it. This morning, though, I realized that I'm not really used to it and I possibly never will be. All week Samantha hasn't been feeling well. I'm not sure why, but her crying all day is a good indication that things aren't right. As a result, she hasn't been sleeping too well either. At 4:30am I heard her crying. At 5:30am I got out the ear plugs. Perhaps this seems insensitive, but I've been sleeping with her on the couch at night and in the early mornings, and I just didn't want to do it this morning. Plus, knowing her cries, I knew she wasn't informing me of any urgent need, rather, just telling me she was awake and wouldn't mind me being in there with her. Callie also woke up early this morning -- and Marcus, being the great husband and father that he is, got up with Callie...and apparently Sammy woke up during that time too. I got to sleep in until 7:30am. Nice.

Callie was tired and cranky, so Marcus put her back to bed and I laid on the couch with Samantha. At 9am, she began convulsing. There was no warm-up to this seizure and she was convulsing so strongly that, I admit, I was a little panicked. Normally her seizures start small and escalate to a point before stopping. If she was starting at this point, how far would it progress before it stopped? I ran for her medicine, which we use when a seizure lasts 5 minutes, ready to use it immediately. But Sammy pulled out of it. She fell asleep in my arms. Samantha woke up once to vomit and fell back to sleep.

Sammy woke up at 11:30 this morning and is now quietly sitting on a chair chewing on a pacifier. I'm grateful for that because my arms needed a break, but really all I want to do is hold her all day long and comfort her. I want her to know that I would take it all away if I could. My poor sweet little baby girl. I love her so much.