Gracie was so naughty this morning. She was in time out twice, had her playing-on-mom's-phone privileges revoked, and had a toy put in time-out, all before 9am. What on EARTH? I wondered, and piled us all in the car to go to the Y so I could work out and they could play and we could all reset ourselves.
The girls were excited to go play and I was excited to find the gym nearly empty. I jumped on an elliptical and started going. After four miles, I thought, one more mile. I signed them in for an hour. I'll do one more mile and then work abs or something. I thought about just going to get them, but then I thought, nah. Just minutes later, there was the woman from the play space. Gracie doesn't feel good, she said. She's lying down and she won't respond to us. We all knew what was going on, including the woman who came to get me.
Random side note: I cannot say enough good things about the people who were working at the Y today. They were all calm, cool, and collected, and very concerned about helping us to the car (offered to call the paramedics, which I declined). Reassured me that Gracie was welcome back as soon as she was feeling better- this was a big concern for me, because I needed to worry about something unimportant- Gracie loves the Y. She loves her play group and she loves the play space and if they said they couldn't take the risk, it would break both of our hearts.
And speaking of my breaking my heart, Gracie's BFF from play group was not there on tuesday. She's been asking about her ever since, and who should walk in just as I had G on my lap, clearly seizing? Ouch. My heart still hurts, thinking about it. Gracie never noticed, but goddamnit, that's her favorite person in the world and she should have been playing with her, not sprawled out unresponsive. Fuck.
We went to my parents' house while she recovered, and I called the neurologist. We agreed it was time to start meds. Said we'd touch base in a week and I'd follow up with her in person in three months. We went home. It was naptime, and both girls immediately fell asleep in the car. We got home and I parked in the garage to let them sleep. And that is when Gracie let out a blood-curdling scream and the second seizure started.
I can't recap it, don't need to. But it was so, so much worse than the first one, and as I screamed and struggled to get her out of the car seat and Katie screamed because she was startled and then scared, I just kept thinking, this is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening.
One ER visit and two pharmacy trips later, I remain terrified. Hypevigilant. She's in her own bed right now, but will move into my bed when I go to sleep. Or "sleep", I should say.
This is not happening.