Blessed burden

I woke up at around 6 a.m. on Sunday to the sound of John yelling my name.  I was sleeping on the couch because our feverish boy had been tossing and turning most of the night.  I ran upstairs to find Mazin convulsing and obviously having some sort of seizure.  I held him and told John to call 911.  I held him close and waited for this horrible thing to stop.  I don't know how long it lasted, but my baby's lips were turning blue by the end of it.  Maybe it was two minutes, maybe less.  Then he collapsed in my arms in exhaustion.  I took him downstairs and undressed him to check his body.  I don't know what I was looking for, but I needed to see all of him.  He seemed unharmed.  I put a blanket around him because he had started to shiver.  We waited for the ambulance to arrive, and all the while I just kept holding him close, checking his breathing.  I don't even remember what I was thinking.  I was worried about what the seizure might have done to him.  I was worried about what caused it.  Worry isn't even the word.

After a long ride to the hospital and a series of examinations and conversations with doctors, our fears were finally allayed.  Apparently Mazin had had a "febrile seizure," which apparently happens to around ten percent of babies and toddlers sometimes during a fever.  They assured us there were no side effects and that the seizure was not indicative of a more serious condition.  We re-entered the unbelievably privileged world of parents with healthy children, after a brief visit to the hell of anguish that must be life with an unwell child.  As I lay down next to my sleeping Mazin on that emergency room cot, with my nose to his nose, I imagined what it would be like to spend every day in the hospital, watching my child fight a serious illness.  My heart was so heavy and I felt such sorrow for every mother living this reality.

I could not love anything more fiercely than I love this child.  I have never been so vulnerable.  I am so burdened, yet so blessed, by this love.  This is life.