Life of a “special needs” child is full of doctor’s appointments; check lists, and a big medical binder! We had gotten through eye surgery to remove Reagan’s cataracts. A month later, she had an eye exam under anesthesia, and by the time she was 7.5 weeks old, Reagan got her first pair of glasses.
Now, when we first found out that Reagan was going to need glasses, I was worried about what people would say, what others would think. I told Mitch that I didn’t want her to be wearing glasses in every picture that we took of her. I didn’t want this to define who she was. “The baby with the glasses” was not going to be who she was her whole life.
Once she got the glasses though, my whole thought process changed in an instant! She was the cutest baby I had ever seen! Glasses just made her, her! Yes, they were a bit too big, but I didn’t care. Reagan and glasses just went together! Watching her look around and see all there was to see in the world was amazing!
My baby could finally see!
We continued on with our lives. We had her regular well baby check ups, and then we also had eye checks. This was life. This was our normal.
One day I got home from work (I worked 4:30am-8:30am), Mitch left for work and it was time to feed Reagan breakfast. By this time, she was about 7.5 months old or so, so I was giving her different solids along with a bottle. I remember that morning I had given her some oatmeal with bananas. I got her out of her chair and set her on the floor of the living room with some toys while I was going to clean up the mess.
We were in an apartment at the time, so I could see Reagan every second that I was in the kitchen. In the time that it took me to walk into the kitchen from putting her on the floor and putting her dishes in the sink, she was slumped over on the floor. I remember making the comment to her as I walked back to her that it was a little early for her nap. I thought she had just gone to sleep. I got to her and picked her up.
She was basically dead weight.
Her face looked “off,” she didn’t look like my little Reagan. I thought that maybe she was having an allergic reaction to the bananas, but wasn’t certain. She wasn’t struggling to breathe, she wasn’t blue. I went into panic mode. My first call was to Mitch, I told him he needed to come home. Something was happening with Reagan and she looked funny.
I hung up with him and called 911.
I don’t remember the in between time, but the paramedics showed up shortly before Mitch got back home. Reagan was still out of it. They loaded her up in the ambulance, and for whatever reason, I chose not to ride along with them. Mitch and I followed behind them in our car. I told myself it was because I wanted to tell Mitch what happened, but if I am being honest now…
… I think I was afraid that my baby was going to die, and I didn’t want to be alone with her when that happened.
I couldn’t be the one to fail her, again! Looking back though, if that was what was happening, I was failing her more by not being with her. I was scared though; I was not the most confident mom on the planet. I needed the comfort of my husband.
We were in the hospital for what felt like forever! Just the three of us in the emergency room. We didn’t call any family; we just wanted to know what was going on. Reagan came out of whatever dazed state she was in, and she was PISSED! I didn’t think about bringing anything with me, so there were no comfort items, diapers, bottles, nothing. She screamed and cried. In the end, the ER doctor told us it may have been an allergic reaction to the bananas and to hold off on giving them to her again. He told us to make an appointment with her pediatrician though. That was it. He let us go home with no real answers as to what happened. I was wishing, hoping, praying that it was just an allergic reaction, but deep down I knew there was something else going on.
I could feel it in my bones that there was yet another thing “wrong” with my perfect little Reagan.
We just had to wait and see what it was…
