Everyone, meet #6. This is Logan's twin, Colton. No, they aren't identical, are they?!? But they ARE both dang cute! I'm allowed to say things like that, because I'm the Momma. There is a reason I'm introducing you. I want you to look at Colton's little face, see the wonder he sees, as he looks in the distance. I love that look. I love the expression of delight and innocence. I love the purity of this picture... unmarked by anything sad or scary or unpleasant.
This past Wednesday evening was sad, scary, and unpleasant... and I would do anything to be able to take that away from Colton's memory. But I can't. And I have guilt and horrible feelings of failing as a Momma because of it.
Logan gets 1/2 of a 0.1mg tablet of Clonidine per night to help him sleep. We had just given Logan his half tablet during our bedtime routine, and the bottle spilled. There were pills all over the floor, and while we were hurrying to pick them up, Colton grabbed 4-1/2 pills and ate them. I called Poison Control in a panic, really thinking that all they were going to tell me was, Colton would be a really REALLY tired bunny, but it would be all okay. That's not what they told me.
Clonidine is a sedative. Because of the amount Colton ingested, Poison Control told me his heart could stop and he needed to go to a hospital. RIGHT NOW! When they discovered how far away we are from the nearest hospital, they told me to call an ambulance, because he needed to have medical care right away.
I hung up with them, called the pediatrician ( again, I LOVE the service for the pediatrician that patched me right through to the doctor's cell) and asked which hospital he wanted Colton to be seen in. Then I made the 911 call that no mother should ever have to make. Paramedics were here at the speed of light, sirens screaming and lights flashing on the ambulance in my driveway, and they rushed to my door to get the facts.
They bundled Colton up wearing only a diaper, in a blanket to protect him from the freezing temperature and took him to the back of the ambulance to get him strapped on the gurney. We decided that I would follow the ambulance in my car, so I would be able to have transportation home when/if Colton was released. At this point I was in such shock, nothing was really seeming real, and I remember nodding a lot and agreeing with everything. The Daddy was in Vegas on business, and my mother had come to the house just a couple of minutes before the ambulance, to tend the monsters while I was with Colton.
I don't really remember the 45 mile drive to the hospital. I just remember thinking, "Oh, wow. If I get stopped, this is going to be a HECK of a ticket." I was doing 85 in a 65 zone most of the way, sometimes it was a 55 zone. I gave the ambulance a 1/4 mile lead, and stayed that distance the whole way. If I HAD been stopped, it would have been clear to the deputy that I was following the ambulance. And it would have been clear that I was a hair's breadth away from hysterical.
The first thing I remember seeing when I got into the ER with Colton, was the blood all over his blanket, from the paramedics when they were attempting to start his IV. It was everything I could do not to pass out. I just kept staring at the blood and telling Colton I was here, it was going to be okay. I was there alone, with this child who could very likely die, and I was really trying to keep it together and absorb what the doctor and nurses were saying. The doctor took me aside and explained that the next four hours were crucial because that's the window of time in which that particular drug will cause heart damage, or stop the heart completely. Clonidine is a sedative. It makes everything relax. We were praying that his heart wouldn't relax. My two year old child who never had a reason to be in a hospital other than birth, was now hooked up to an IV and every monitor they could think of.
It took over an hour for Colton to fall asleep after entering the ER, something that amazed everyone caring for him. They kept telling me that it was a good sign that he was still awake. And then... he fell asleep. He was REALLY asleep. The doctor thumbed back Colton's eyelids, and he didn't even twitch. The plan was, they would let him sleep for a couple hours, and then try to wake him up and make him mad, to see how long he would remain awake. I held him in my arms until my arms went numb and I had to lay him down, or I would have dropped him. I don't think there was a minute when I wasn't praying for Colton to live. I found myself needing to touch him, needing to feel him, to smell the baby wash we use on his hair, to feel the smoothness of his baby skin, trying to remember everything about him... just in case.
Every once in a while he would whimper or sigh, or wiggle around. These were all good signs, meaning he wasn't slipping into a coma. His vitals remained strong. He never even needed oxygen. The time came to wake him, and they did indeed make Colton mad. He woke up with this expression, this "What the $^%# do you people think you're doing!?!" expression, that made everyone laugh and sigh with relief.
Eight hours after entering the ER, Colton got to go home. The doctor couldn't understand it. He told me once, " That child should be dead." Gee, thanks, doc! But really, he ingested enough sedative for a 150 pound adult. Colton weighs 30 pounds. I can't stop thinking about the irony of it all... all the times I have been in a hospital with Logan, never thinking that I would be in a situation like this with Colton. Never thinking that I would fear for the life of THIS twin.
And then... the guilt. The feeling that I wasn't watching closely enough, that I should have moved faster, that deadly woulda, coulda, shoulda. The feeling that I failed Colton as his mother, the person he depends on for everything in life, the life he nearly lost. And I can't shake it. I can't stop loving on him, and apologizing to him, and snuggling him after he's asleep. Berating myself because I didn't see it coming.
And so, now you know the reason for my little hiatus. I can't go back to being the Momma I was before Wednesday night. I can't stop feeling guilty and negligent. And I can't face reality, quite yet. Logically I know it was just a freak accident, something that has happened to countless parents before me, and will happen to countless parents after me. I am anal about where we keep medications for this very reason. And yet, it happened to ME, and now all the rules have changed.
If the roles were reversed, and I was reading this instead of writing it, I would be full of all the things everyone has said to me~ "It's not your fault", "you didn't do it on purpose", "it was an accident", "you can't blame yourself". But I'm sorry.... it just doesn't work that way. My little precious #6 could have died. And I will never, NEVER forget that. Never, for as long as I live. And I will live in fear of Child Services coming to my door to question me, or take my children, because I failed. I can't get away from that.
I was talking to my Pappy about this whole thing last night, and I told him that the only explanation there is for the way things turned out for Colton is, divine intervention. No matter how you slice it, there's no earthly reason Colton should be alive today. But he is.
There are those who will judge me. And that's okay. There's nothing they can say to me that I'm not already saying to myself. But I caution you.... never, EVER say, " That would never happen to me."
