Perspective

 

 Although cliche, find these phrases helpful and meaningful right now:

• What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
• Life is 5% what happens to you and 95% how you react to it.
• Every cloud has a silver lining.
• Its always darkest before the dawn.
• When the going gets tough, the tough gets going.

I like to think of myself as a Tigger, rather than an Eeyore. Most situations in life can be seen from two perspectives: positive or negative. As I have gained life experience through age, I have learned that life is a lot easier if you focus on the positive.

As I sit in the NICU with Carter, I am blessed with time to reflect and process this situation. As I rub my bleary, tired eyes and look at my beautiful baby boy, I realize that we have so much to be thankful for. The ability to do this really has nothing to do with being a strong person; it simply comes from putting things into perspective.

There are many definitions for perspective. In this situation, it means "a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view".

For example: as I sit in the NICU with a relatively healthy, full-term baby boy, hundreds of people in Paris are dealing with losing a loved one at the hands of terrorists. Putting my family's situation in perspective, we actually have it pretty good right now.

It would be easy to spiral into a dark pit of despair and wallow in self-pity right now, but what good would that do? I think most people would excuse my selfishness and even give me a free postpartum depression pass. Don't get me wrong, I have my moments. This is just a short list of emotions and thoughts I have experienced over the past four days:

• Indignation - "This is not fair - haven't I put in my time here already?"
• Anger - "We made it to term and even ten days at home - this is B.S.!"
• Sadness - "My poor baby boys - one is constantly being poked and prodded and left alone by mommy and the other is being neglected by mommy because she is never home anymore."
• Coping sarcasm - "Cool, another reason to stay here another day. Any more tests we can perform to keep me here longer? I am getting the sleep of my life in this recliner."
• Anxiety - "I will keep you updated as I sit here and wait for another round of test results."

 All of that being said, my family honestly has so much to be thankful for. Specifically:

• Carter was full term - I did not get sick so I am capable of taking care of my boys. Also, the fact that he is a fully-cooked kid is helping us get out of the NICU so much faster.
• I got this - I can function in a NICU room standing on my head. Been here, done this.
• Support - We have amazing family and friends that are supporting us in a variety of ways. A special shout out to the grandparents who are taking care of Jackson in our absence. It really does take a village. 
• NICU Staff - Colin and I once again stand in awe of the NICU nurses and doctors who are taking care of our son. So many people here recognize our family and have made us feel at home (reluctantly - no one wants anyone to be here) all over again. I find myself surrounded by personal cheerleaders, counselors, confidants, and friends all disguised cleverly as nurses and doctors. 
• Carter's Overall Health - Yes, we are in the NICU. Yes, Carter is enduring many pokes, prods, and other uncomfortable tests. Yes, my heart breaks for my son multiple times a day as he cries through more pain. However, having all of these tests done confirms that other than the bilirubin issue, he is a healthy boy and we have no reason to worry once we get past this little bump in the road.
• Carter - This kid is tough. There is a part of me that believes that he is out to prove he can endure the NICU just like his brother did. Sure, he cries a little when he is poked. Otherwise, he is a mellow, sweet little guy and everyone here loves him. No one wants him to leave (it is fun for the nurses to have a well-done baby to play with - he can withstand contact and interaction that preemies cannot) but everyone wants him to go home and be with his family.

This is merely a short list of things that are helping me keep my head up. I cannot wait to be home again, but when I put this seemingly devastating situation in perspective, we have it pretty darn good. There are people out there right now dealing with WAY worse problems than we are, and I believe it is important to keep that in mind.

In other news, I realized today that I have way too much time on my hands when I found myself watching this video:

Carter, perhaps we should think about leaving now.....

NICU Part Deux

According to the Urban Dictionary, part deux is "a superficial, unnecessary, or overly bad sequel to a classic film".

This seems fitting for how I feel about blogging from the St. Charles NICU, again.

We thought we were in the clear. Carter had a tan that we knew was not a genetic blessing and it had a certain yellowish hue. However, he was checked twice during his first week of life and the numbers said he was fine and did not qualify for photo therapy.

Fast forward to Carter's tenth day of life. He was scheduled for his circumcision so it was already not going to be his greatest day ever. The nurse and his pediatrician agreed that he looked pretty yellow so we decided since he was getting messed with anyway we might as well go for another heel poke. He was an angel; he slept through the circumcision and did not make a peep until they poked his heel. The pediatrician said she has never sent an almost two week old baby back to the hospital to go under the lights so it was clearly just a preventative procedure.

Um, yea, not so much.

Four hours later I got a call from the doctor. She felt so bad because she had big news. Dr. Azimi and his nurses in the NICU had a bed prepared for Carter and we needed to go immediately. His bilirubin level was dangerously high and it was imperative to get him there ASAP to mitigate any further damage done.

As I drove Carter back to St. Charles, I did my best to keep my cool. Of course, I hit every light and got stuck behind every speed limit law abiding citizen on the road. Colin called as I was on my way (he was waiting for our personal life savers - aka: the Grandparents - to get to our house to stay with Jackson) and told me to leave my car right out front and he would take care of it. I pulled up and happily obliged and that is when the waterworks started.

Terrified of the neurological damage that can result from high amounts of bilirubin in a newborn's blood, I did my best to contain my tears as I realized I was living the nightmare again. Doing my best to answer questions and provide updated medical information, I struggled to not completely melt down. The idea of brain damage is enough to send any parent over the edge, so in hindsight I must cut myself some slack for not being more stoic in the moment.

Carter's bilirubin was 26 in the office during the afternoon. Another heel poke in the NICU showed 25.4, which confirmed that we were in the danger zone. Dr. Azimi had explained to us while we were waiting for the lab to confirm this number that we may have a tough decision to make. The reason we were in the NICU rather than the PICU is at a level of 25 or higher, a blood transfusion is protocol and only the NICU can do this on a newborn. There is a 5-10% chance of serious complications, so it would not be an easy decision for us to make.

Fortunately, at 25.4, we were just on the cusp of the danger zone and Carter was showing no signs of neurological damage. In fact, the NICU staff was very surprised at his vitals and responses considering the story the labs were telling. What we were looking at was an apparently healthy, yellow baby. When it came down to the decision to transfuse or not, Dr. Azimi told me he would not go into "if this were my kid I would...", which was nonsense. He was just recognized with a national NICU heros award and I wanted to know exactly what he would do if this were his kid. He said after conferring with a colleague, his recommendation would be to treat with photo therapy rather than risk a transfusion.

Done and done. Time to get in the tanning bed kiddo.

This may be a good time to mention the fact that Carter is following in Jackson's footsteps in one specific way. It is NICU protocol to monitor heart rate, breathing rate, and blood oxygen levels. Carter has been desating (blood oxygen dropping) during deep sleep and has been wearing a nasal cannula with the same slightest whiff of oxygen that Jackson had for weeks upon weeks. It is the tiniest amount of oxygen (we breathe 21%, he is getting 22%) but he can't keep his levels up while sleeping without it. Despite the fact this is too much information (many newborns are doing this at home without the parents knowing) and we are completely micromanaging him, it is not acceptable in the NICU world and should not be happening for no good reason.

Almost two days later, it feels like Carter has endured every test imaginable. Tons of blood has been drawn to rule out metabolic disorders, enzyme disorders and deficiencies, respiratory panels, (Jackson has been fighting a cold and in an effort to be a good big brother has likely shared some germs), and a total of three bilirubin checks so far. He has also had an echo cardiogram and lung x-rays for good measure. Everything has been coming back clear, normal, and healthy, which is awesome but makes you wonder what in the hell are we doing here again.

Dr. Azimi had a conversation with my mom yesterday and things may finally began making some sense. He had asked me every question you could think of, except if we had any family history of jaundice upon birth. In a caffeine-induced moment of clarity earlier that day it dawned on me that we have had jaundice upon birth on both sides of Carter's family. In addition to my week under the lights, my brother, mother, Colin, and Colin's nephew were all jaundiced when they were born. The doctor was most interested in my family and now suspects that this is a genetic thing - we are born with immature livers that need some extra time to process bilirubin.

Finally, a test came back early this morning showing something that is not normal. Carter is anemic today. His red blood cell count has gone down during his stay, which indicates that his red blood cells may be fragile and bursting more than normal. A blood sample was sent to Salt Lake City yesterday to screen him for a rare enzyme deficiency that may or may not be the root cause of all this drama. We will not get those results back for another four to five days and the implications of a positive result (other than an explanation/diagnosis) would be very minor and not really even treatable. In the case that this is his diagnosis, there is a chance that he would become slightly anemic when he gets sick in the future. For example, if Carter develops an upper respiratory infection we will have to keep an eye on him to make sure he is well-hydrated and perhaps give him some iron supplements to help him through the illness until his body fights it off. All things considered, easy peasy lemon squeezy.

So here I sit, two days later. Carter's bilirubin level has dropped 13 points (from 26 to 13) and we are so close to getting him out from under those lights. We will do another heel poke this evening to see if we are in the "no treatment necessary zone" again (12 or less) so we can start weaning him off the lights. Today he has gone from five lights to three, so we have already started the process. Next, we will have to make sure he does not rebound for a minimum of 12 hours after he is completely off the lights. Also, he had more blood drawn this morning as well as a sterile urine sample drawn from a catheter (poor guy!) to test for an unlikely case of a urinary tract infection, which can cause jaundice. Just another thing to rule out. Waiting for those results means we are here until at least Monday.  Finally, why the hell won't this kid breathe when he is sleeping?! He has to stop desating or else we go home on oxygen.

I would love to tell you that once we realized a transfusion was not necessary and that no apparent damage has been done I became the pillar of strength that Carter needs. However, that is not really the case. There have been lots of tears and my mindset and emotions have been all over the board. Although we have so much to be grateful for and we know from our past and far more traumatic experience with Jackson that this will just be a blip on the radar, I have struggled this time around. How did I end up back on the NICU roller coaster again?

The bottom line is, I am not worried about Carter. He is apparently on a mission to prove that Jackson is not the only one who can tough out the NICU. I have watched this amazing little person endure so much these past few days and he is such a trooper. I am so proud and in awe of our handsome, full-term little guy. What I have worried most about is Jackson's well-being. I can't see him and leave him without crying and apologizing over and over for not being there for him these past weeks after having Carter. Now I have been ripped away again as I sit here all day waiting to nurse Carter and sleep in this hospital every night.

Come to find out, the person I should worry about the most is me. My lovely mother-in-law pointed out that I have two sons who have different needs right now, which can be hard on a mother. I pumped a bottle for Carter and went home this morning to spend time with Jackson. Colin left early for a work trip (which we decided as a family was the right decision) so Jackson is at home Gramma and Papaw. Although he was ecstatic to see me and sweeter to be around than ever, he was apparently not even bothered when I had to say goodbye again.

I don't know if it was the hot shower, fresh clothes, familiar smell of home, or the time I spent with my precious little boy, but now I know that this too shall pass and we will come out on the other side a stronger family, again. The postpartum element pretty much ensures I will still cry a little, but hopefully there will be more tears of joy and relief rather than sadness and frustration.

Like the story about the little engine that could that Jackson has made me read so many times, I think I can...I think I can...I think I can...I think I can.

 Top: Jackson's tiny foot under the lights in the NICU; below: full-term Carter under the lights

Spending time with J today (the lack of a shirt is a long, typical story!):

Jackson was in the room just next door to us just two short years ago. It is amazing how many nurses here remember us, and of course we remember them!

We just want to go home and get back to this:

  

What To Expect When You Are Expecting.....a C-Section

It is hard to believe that it has been ten days since Carter was pulled out of my belly.

Seriously, he was forcibly removed via a large incision in my stomach.

Knowing that c-sections are so common, it is still hard to comprehend the process. It was brought to my attention by one of the many nurses who took care of me last week that caesarians are one of the few remaining "common major surgeries" now that so many are done with small incisions and scopes. Basically, she was telling me to respect what my body had endured and cut myself some slack in regards to the healing process. As I recover, I try to remind myself of this every day.

Keep in mind, my first c-section was a completely different experience. I had to be put completely under anesthesia and miss out on the entire experience due to my low platelet count because of HELLP syndrome. Moreover, this meant that Colin missed out on the experience as well since he could not be with me in the operating room.

This time things were different. As far as birthing experiences go, I am convinced that we had the most mellow experience possible. We were borderline boring for the nurses. Rather than being the high-risk sick patients, the nurses barely had anything to do for us. However, this does not mean that the experience was not a little surreal and crazy for us. This was all new.

My doctor and a labor and delivery nurse both did their best to talk me through the process and set expectations. All things considered, they did a pretty good job. Still, I feel like I was not completely prepared for what this experience would really be like.

I am aware I am not a highly trafficked mommy blog, but I want to put this out there in case someone stumbles across this and wants to know what to really expect when expecting a c-section.

1. Your scheduled c-section is not a priority.
In my situation, a micro-preemie coming into the world took precedence over my cushy little full term procedure. Don't get me wrong, if anyone understands the urgency of a premature birth, Colin and I feel pretty well-versed in what these people were about to experience. That does not change the fact that we were sitting in our birthing suite waiting hours past when we anticipated our delivery. This can be a little nerve-wracking. In an effort to keep this in perspective, I know a couple that was sent home twice (once for each baby they have) because the family birthing center was full and there was no room for them. That would be even worse I think.
Lesson here: You are not as important as you think you are! If you are told your delivery is at 5:00 p.m., be prepared for it to be anytime after that.

2. Shower first, but prepare for a different kind of bath before the procedure.
You are not trusted to take a shower before your procedure at home and apparently a shower still will not get you clean enough! You will be given an awesome hospital gown, adult-sized baby wipes soaked in chemicals, and very explicit instructions. Good luck maintaining your dignity as your partner helps you scrub down your large, pregnant body. Also, you get to thoroughly coat the inside of your nostrils with thick, syrupy iodine formula. Ain't no germs gonna be on you!
Lesson here: Prepare to feel sticky and gross until you get to take your first post-op shower. Also, get that crap out of your nostrils ASAP once you are back in your room. It starts to ball up in your nose and itch. You will have dark reddish-orange boogies going on until you can clean it out.

3. You are not completely numb during surgery.
This was the part that really freaked me out. After the numbing agent was placed on my back (this is literally the most painful part; it feels like a bad burn for a few seconds) and the needle was injected into my spine, (which I actually felt despite the numbing) my feet and legs almost immediately felt warm. The anesthesia caused a quick drop in blood pressure, which translated to dizziness and nausea. Also, I reacted to anesthesia by shaking vigorously as if I was freezing cold. So there I was, dizzy, nauseated, and shaking violently as they helped me lay down on the table. As distracted as I was by all of this, I quickly realized that I could not move, but I could feel them preparing me for surgery. Trying not to sound completely panicked, I reminded the doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologist that I could feel what they were doing. They reassured me that I would not feel any pain and that they would to a "pinch test" before cutting me open to ensure that the anesthesia was doing its job.
Lesson here: You don't feel the pain of having several layers of your body being cut open, but you do feel pressure and movement as you are being operated on. This is seriously one of the craziest experiences I have ever had.

4. To them, this is just a typical day on the job.
As I was lying there on an operating table, everyone around me was carrying on regular conversations. In addition to checking in and telling me what they were doing and how it was going, there were a variety of matter-of-fact conversations and little jokes happening. Thankfully, I had Colin there to talk to so I could feel like one of the gang rather than the human who was cut open.
Lesson here: Be prepared to find out how doctors and nurses interact socially during common surgeries. Rest assured that you may hear things from your doctor, such as "Your insides look really healthy and great!", that will actually make you feel a little better about what is going on around you.

5. The first 12-24 hours after surgery are deceptive.
Even though I could move my legs a few hours after surgery, I was still numb. The anesthesia is combined with pain meds and I was quite comfortable following surgery. Actually, I did not experience any pain around my incision and in my stomach despite having several layers of my body cut open, a baby pulled out, and a tubal ligation. I was so impressed with how I was handling all of this. Then the next afternoon happened. A little over 18 hours post-surgery, the pain set in. Oh, I am not so tough after all. Percocet please!
Lesson here: Enjoy the deceptive hours after surgery when you feel comfortable. Not to freak anyone out, but I have a pretty high pain tolerance and the pain since has been pretty brutal.

6. Be kind to your body. After all, you have endured a lot.
My doctor told me the tubal would not affect my recovery. That being said, I thought there was something seriously wrong once the pain set in. Perhaps my memory from my first c-section is a bit fuzzy, but I don't remember it hurting so much. I mean, I went to a concert five days post-surgery! Here I am, ten days post-surgery, and I am still in pain. Fortunately, several nurses confirmed that many patients have expressed that the tubal does make a difference in the pain levels during recovery.
Lesson here: This too shall pass. However, don't be scared to take your pain meds. I am on my second prescription, but I requested a more mellow pain reliever and I am only taking them at night so I can function during the day as best as I can.

7. Be flexible about giving birth.
Even though scheduled c-sections are more common nowadays for a variety of reasons, I believe that most women imagine experiencing childbirth the way the body intended. Rather than dwell on the fact I was robbed of this opportunity because I got sick with Jackson (and I was unwilling to brave the risks of a VBAC), I have to accept that this was my path. Sure, I did not endure hours of labor and the pain of natural childbirth, but I did get a taste of it this time around. As I was on the monitor waiting for my c-section I was having pretty considerable contractions. The way I look at it, I am enduring the majority of my pain after delivery rather than during delivery.
Lesson here: No matter how it happens, you have grown a human and given them life by having them taken out of your body. I don't believe that there is a big conspiracy in the medical community and that doctors are incentivized if they can get more patients to deliver surgically. If you feel that is the case, you have chosen the wrong doctor. Childbirth is unpredictable and can be risky; consider being flexible about how it happens and just be happy that everyone is alive and well when it is over.

Besides, according to several labor and delivery nurses I have met, this is truth:

Dear Prince Jackson,

Today your world will change. In fact, all of our worlds are going to change. However, I worry most about you, my sweet Prince Jackson.

You have lived in a kingdom where you rule. The first born son. The only child. Our little everything.

Over the past two years, we have watched grow from a determined little preemie into an amazing toddler. Keeping us on our toes seems to be your goal. You do things in your own time, but when you are ready it is nothing short of incredible what you are capable of.

These past few months have been both the most challenging and most fantastic times with you. Every day you do something or say something new that never fails to surprise us. You are rapidly turning into a little boy, and I wonder every day where the time has gone.

Everything changes today. Despite the fact you have been hugging, kissing, and petting your baby brother in my belly, I know that you are still too young and the idea is too abstract for you to really understand what is about to happen.

Having another baby is exciting and daunting at the same time. Our lives are about to get harder and more fulfilling at the same time, but I know we can handle it and will be a better family for it.

The only thing I worry about, Prince Jackson, is you.

How are you going to handle Mommy and Daddy being in the hospital? Are you going to feel abandoned and sad? Will you be scared when you see Mommy hooked up to machines tonight? Is the new baby going to be exciting for you or a source of resentment and jealousy? Are you going to understand what is happening? Will you be willing to share Mommy and Daddy?

My hope, Prince Jackson, is that you quickly accept your brother into your kingdom. What you may not realize is that we not only have created a new life, we have created your best friend. You can rule our world together.

I love you to the moon and back, sweet Prince.

Love,
Mommy

Term, Baby!

Here we are! I am 37 weeks pregnant and still holding this baby in!

All I hoped for when I began this journey was to make it to mid-October healthy and still pregnant. Now I am experiencing the honor of late pregnancy and completely grateful for all the fatigue, pain, and discomfort. It is actually nice to not be able to complain; I am lucky to be so miserable!

From this point forward, every day I can stay pregnant is a bonus. I have every reason to believe I am going to have a big, healthy newborn who will stay in my hospital room with me and never see the inside of the NICU.

We made it! Now, all I have to do is not go into labor during the 36 hours Colin is traveling for work this week. Best case scenario, I go into labor sometime next week in my classroom. Freaking out my middle school students would be an added bonus and epic way to end this part of my journey. Only time will tell.....

D-Day

Aka: Delivery Day

Today marks a huge milestone in pregnancy number two. Jackson was delivered on this exact day in my pregnancy with him. No, this does not make it Jackson's birthday (that was back on August 6th). It means that I am 33 weeks and 1 day pregnant.

What does this all mean? No matter what happens, from this moment forward I have a better cooked baby! Jackson was medium-rare. We are hoping for medium to well done this time around.

I had a feeling my doctor was wary of this pregnancy, but that was confirmed a few weeks ago. She told me in all honesty that she thought this pregnancy would have progressed with HELLP syndrome rearing its ugly head around 23 or 24 weeks. I am pleased to report I have proved her wrong! Blood work shows that all is well. My blood pressure is fine, I am not swollen at all, and there have been no symptoms other than typical third trimester aches and pains. I love being right.

From this point forward I am entering pregnancy territory that I have never navigated. In fact, I would have been on bed rest for the past six days. Therefore, I have been experiencing pregnancy in a new way since last Wednesday.

I refuse to complain, because the last thing I want is to have another premature baby. However, it would be unrealistic to deny the fact that the next six weeks may be a challenge. Here is a short list of things that have come to mind several time as I ruminate on the next six weeks:

• I may have the honor of being the mama who is so ready for her baby to arrive rather than the mama sitting in the NICU all day for weeks hoping her baby can come home soon because he arrived too early.
• I may bake a baby who is big enough to eat and sleep well when he is born. However, that baby is baking in my belly while I am teaching in a middle school classroom. This ought to get more interesting with each passing week.
• Is it really possible for my belly to get bigger? Did I not get stretch marks the first time around because I did not get bigger than this? Better get some fancy lotion just in case.
• Will we actually get to the scheduled c-section at 39 weeks? Are we going to show up to the hospital prepared with bags packed? "Hi! I am here for my c-section." 
• What if I go into labor in my classroom? That would actually be kind of cool. Freaking out middle school kids is actually pretty fun. I mean, I was the teacher that put a preserved frog in a girl's locker last year and took a video of her reaction. (For the record, she had it coming with her dramatics during dissection.)
• Is this kid going to continue to stand on my pelvic bones and punch my ribs simultaneously? We may need to have a little chat.
• At what point is my stomach going to completely run out of space? How am I going to eat enough food to gain the recommended amount of weight? I can barely stand to eat a full meal now. 
• Tired. Just tired.
• Did I just drop something? Screw it.

All I can say is bring it on! I am up for the challenge. Let's take this pregnancy to term! I love proving people wrong.

The Lucky Ones

AKA: Complete Rookie Parents

Jackson had a febrile seizure on Monday night. Our pediatrician referred to it as the most terrifying, benign diagnosis there is. She is right on.

Around 10 p.m. I heard strange sounds coming from Jackson's room through the monitor. I can't exactly remember if it was a moan, grunt, or something else, but it wasn't a normal crying sound. Watching him on the camera, I could see his legs moving under the covers as if he was kicking them. Instinct alerted me that something wasn't right.

When I got to him there was a substantial amount of saliva in a pool on his pillow and bubbles were coming from his mouth. As I tried to move him, thinking he may vomit, he was completely limp. Lifeless. Couldn't even open his eyes and respond to me.

He was very hot to the touch, so I took his lifeless little body immediately to the tub, stripped him down, and started splashing cool water on his back. Colin called 911 because we had no idea what was going on and needed help ASAP.

The cool water brought him back to life. He started crying (finally, a normal response!) and I pulled him out of the tub and covered him with a towel. All I could do is hold him as he shivered uncontrollably, clenching my finger, crying. While I stayed relatively calm and in control, it still did not occur to me that he may simply have a fever and need some Tylenol.

After what seemed like an eternity, the paramedics arrived. His temperature was 102.6 at that point. After a quick check of his oxygen levels and blood sugar they diagnosed him with......a fever.

In my limited experience with first responders, I have found them to be extremely kind and empathetic. They never questioned why we called them or even asked why it did not occur to us that common knowledge states that a fever needs Tylenol. I felt grateful and extremely humbled at the same time.

To explain, I was grateful that they were not worried. Jackson had a fever and no other signs of life-threatening issues. We were not going on an ambulance ride. It was similar to my experience in the NICU: scary, but I knew everything was going to be okay.

I was humbled because despite his rough start to life, Jackson has been the picture of health. He has been to the doctor twice outside of his well baby checks. Both times he had an ear infection, but you would have never known because the kid is tough and doesn't complain. We have been so lucky thus far, perhaps we needed a little wake up call so we won't be in shock if Jackson's brother has more health issues than he has.

In the end, Jackson picked up a late summer virus and is likely on the road back to good health. A fever with no other symptoms is apparently common this time of year and every day his fever is getting lower and easier to manage. The doctor is confident that he is fine; no permanent damage done other than the flashbacks and lingering mental anguish experienced by me and Colin. Hopefully a full night's sleep is in our near future. And by the way, Jackson, thanks for waiting until the first week of school to get sick!

All of this being said, I feel like this has been another case of "Why does no one tell you this can happen?" So, for all the other rookie parents who may read this, here is some helpful information for you:

• Tylenol is not proven to prevent febrile seizures. Apparently, even if I had given him Tylenol before bed Monday night, his body would have likely responded to the virus the same way.
• Febrile seizures that last less than five minutes (five minutes!?!?) are more common than you would think and rarely cause any permanent damage. Your child's risk of epilepsy may be slightly elevated, but really only if it runs in the family. Otherwise, it is a "normal" immune response and your kid will likely either never have one again or grow out of having them.
• The cool water on the back worked for Jackson. I am not sure if it works for everyone, every time, but it may be worth a try. Keep in mind, cool/lukewarm water, not cold water. If they start to shiver after cover them up. The shivering causes the body to work harder and can actually increase the temperature.
• Viruses sometimes have no symptoms other than a fever. If your kid is perking back up after you bring the temperature down and every day they get better, you are likely dealing with a virus and things are going to be okay in a few days. If things get progressively worse, you are most likely dealing with a bacterial infection and need to seek medical care ASAP.
• Febrile seizures are damn scary and I would not wish this on anyone. Holding your seemingly lifeless child in your arms is exactly as you would imagine if you have not experienced it. Terrifying. My advice, try to stay calm and bring the temperature down. 
• When in doubt, call 911. That is what they are there for. Attractive paramedics in your bedroom while you are in your jammies is as embarrassing as it sounds, but it is not about you.
• Cherish every day that your child is healthy and feeling well. Snuggle them as much as you can, in sickness and in health. Bacteria, viruses, and accidents are lurking around every corner, and all you can do is try to find a balance between protecting your child and letting life happen. 

Despite this scary little bump in the road, we are still the lucky ones. We have a happy, healthy, "normal" little boy. My heart crumbles for parents of sick children. I can't imagine how awful it would be to have a child with chronic and/or life-threatening illness. As a parent, all you want is to take the pain and sickness for them and you can't.

All I can hope is that when baby #2 arrives, we can still be the lucky ones. A sick boy makes for a sad mommy.