You know those nights as a mother where you watch your child and you wait? You wait for it, because it might come, but you wait, because like many, many lucky nights before it might pass you by. Last night I waited. Jonas had started coughing that morning, and it didn’t sound quite right. It had a croupy edge to it, but wasn’t the full blown croup cough with it’s distinct harbor seal bark. It was just off.

He didn’t seem too sick in the morning, so we went to church, and by the late afternoon Jonas was feverish and the cough had worsened and progressed to a chicken bone in throat sound. I had him shower and stand in the steam, and then I sent him to breathe the cold night air with a few blankets. These things helped, and the severity of the coughing would lessen and so I’d wait some more.

We have had croup at our house before. We’ve had it mild and easily treatable, and we’ve had sick kids in the emergency room. Jonas was nearly admitted for it when he was three, and ended up so sick he was in bed for a week. I let Jonas lay around the house until 6:30 when I put him in my bed so he would be close to me during the night so I could hear if he was getting worse.

I called my mother in-law, who has had several croupy kids and asked her to listen to him cough. She agreed with me that it was definitely odd, but not yet that full blown, we have a problem here, bark. He seemed to ease a bit as he slept, and within minutes Maggie was snuggled up asleep with us. I crept downstairs and put on a Christmas broadcast and started to fold laundry, keeping an ear out for the coughing that was always in the background.

As I was folding towels I hear the cough change abruptly from weird to really bad. I ran up the stairs and told Jonas, who was stumbling out of the bed that we were going to the doctor’s right now. I was debating which friend would be the most likely to be home and available to watch Maggie on such short notice when Jonas’ cough got even worse. He barked and gagged and gasped and then ran to the bathroom where he began vomiting blood.

I was scared stupid. I had the phone in my hand and my brain was going a million miles and hour telling me to get my shoes and call so and so for Maggie but I couldn’t even process any of the sense because all I could get through my head was my child covered in blood, crying that he couldn’t breathe, and fighting for air. All I could see was a six year old boy asking, “Am I going to die?” My brain stuttered in sheer panic. I looked at the phone and punched 911. It had been less than two minutes since I had run up the stairs to take him to the emergency room.

I told the emergency operator what was going on, knowing that my voice was shaking and I must sound half hysterical. He began asking me all sorts of questions, stupid, stupid questions not related to Jonas. What was my husband’s rank? His squadron? Do you know his work number? I answered the questions all the while wanting to scream at this man WHO FREAKING CARES- JUST GET HERE!

The police answered first, followed by the firemen who gave him oxygen. Jonas was so listless. He wouldn’t respond to their questions; he didn’t have the strength. The EMTs were on their way and an officer told me I’d better change clothes unless I wanted to go in my pajamas. I threw on what I had worn to church earlier that day because I had just thrown most of my maternity clothes into the wash. Maggie was still sleeping and I brought her downstairs and called friends to come pick her up.

The ambulance arrived, and in a blur they strapped Jonas onto a gurney, so still, so unmoving. My Jonas would have loved the flashing lights and loud sirens. He would have joked with the firemen and police and asked how Sparky the Fire Dog was doing. He would have thought this was the best thing ever, but he just laid there with his eyes closed almost oblivious to it all.

My friends arrived and I threw my keys at them and got into the ambulance. Jonas didn’t seem to care about what was going on. He was a silent passenger, breathing in the oxygen while the techs called ahead to the hospital.

When we arrived they began to treat him with moist air and steroids. At the first cough, every head in the room snapped up, and several people murmured, “croup.” I know, I told them. I know. We went over his history and what had happened in the past half an hour- how he went from sleeping to terrifying in seconds. I had done everything the doctor said he does for his own kids, but it just wasn’t enough.

The treatments they were using weren’t helping him breathe better fast enough and his heart was working too hard. The doctor had them give him epinephrine. Jonas shook and twitched, which made him worry. I’ve been on epi enough to know exactly how he was feeling, so I was able to reassure him that this was normal, and him feeling so weird right now meant that the medicine was in him and and able to work to help him breathe. He was 102.5 degrees, and slipping between asleep and awake.

The doctors and nurses kept saying, “Oh he must be tired, it is bedtime,” as if to explain away the lethargy. I repeatedly told people that this was no where near normal. This was a kid with ADHD, a kid on Concerta, a medication that most nights makes him so wired he is unable to sleep. This is a child who normally climbs the walls even with the stomach flu. For him to be so lethargic he can’t answer you, and needs to be carried to X-ray and to get his weight is very, very wrong.

My friends, the Balls, arrived and their support was very helpful. Kanae gave me a bottle of water, and as I tried to pry the cap off, I realized that my hands were shaking violently. The brethren from our church arrived and gave him a blessing, and after that, he was able to rest more soundly and sleep. He stopped fighting the mist that he was supposed to be breathing, and I was able to hold it near his face while he slept.

I sat for hours watching him sleep, watching his oxygen rates slowly go up, and his heart rate calm. I didn’t know if he was really improving or just holding steady. It was an extremely busy night with many ambulances arriving and the sounds of people crashing and having seizures echoing through the too bright, beeping hallways.

His x-rays came back indicating that his lungs looked fine. Croup usually just affects the upper airway, swelling the trachea and voice box, which is what produces that classic cough and the stridor as they breathe in. They assumed that the blood in his vomit was from blood vessels rupturing during the strain of the cough. Because his oxygen levels were doing much better, they decided to send him home.

Maggie stayed the night with friends and Jonas immediately fell asleep in my bed. I updated family and sent Chris a quick e-mail to let him know what was going on. Jonas slept and I half-slept listening to his coughing, wondering and waiting for it to get worse. The phone rang at 9:30 with the doctor calling me for a follow up appointment today. Jonas was still in bed, but well enough to ask for breakfast.

He has laid pretty low today, but he is talking a bit and is definitely improving. He told me he was very scared last night, and that he really thought he might die. He said, “Mom, you called 911!” We have had so many conversations about the right and wrong time to call, it was nice to be able to point out that this was the right time, and wasn’t it great that people showed up to help him.

I have never had an experience with an injured or sick child where I was truly scared before. We’ve had so many ER trips and bumped heads and illnesses, but I’ve always been very calm and able to handle it. Jonas officially scared me more last night than any of my kids have managed before. May that never happen again.