My Feelings of Failure and Fear

Something scary happened last week. Something unexpected, worrying, scary and horrible happened. I don't know if it could have been life threatening, all I know is that it made me feel like a failure. I feel like I have massively failed as a Mum and yet I'm not sure there is anything I could have done differently. 

On Thursday morning, I chased my almost two year old around the room about five times before managing to catch him and place him on the bed. I try smiling at him, even though the morning is young, I try engaging him, even though he has better things to look at. I take his pyjamas off, then undo the seals to his nappy. Suddenly, I wasn't so tired. I was shocked, confused and worried. What was this pimply, spotty rash that was covering my toddlers nappy area?! I quickly look all over him, trying so hard not to let the panic set across my face. I see more rash, over his neck, legs, arms. I then quickly snap a picture and send it to my family, with the group heading, "QUICK, HELP". I have 3 nurses in the family, they should make me feel better about this, I hope. 

A few moments later and replies start to come through. I also sent a picture to the hubby. Most are in agreement, you can't really tell from a picture what this rash is. But also most are in agreement to phone a doctor. I quickly put a nappy on him so he doesn't pee everywhere, he hops off the bed happily and continues running around, probably in the hope I never manage to catch him again for his trousers to go on. 

I phoned my local doctors surgery, they promised to phone me back soon, as they could hear the panic in my voice. They asked me to do a glass test, so I whip trousers on my toddler, quicker than he could realise and I go downstairs. My other Son spots him; 

"Ugh. Dylan's spotty. Keep him upstairs" 

I couldn't really tell whether the glass test worked or not. All I knew was this was getting worse, it was spreading. Not before long, the doctor phoned me. I questioned chicken pox, he shot it down but told me to pop in and see a nurse in half an hour. 

So thats what we did, we then came home with the news that it was indeed chicken pox. I was given information sheets, I brought lotion. I felt relieved, and dare I say it, a little excited to have it now? Dylan began itching these spots on the back of his neck, so I put lotion on. I did this 3 more times through the day. The spots soon turned angry. And spread. It wasn't just a spotty spread, it was a nasty hives looking spread. I snapped more pictures, sent them over to various family members. My older brother questioned them then and there, they didn't look like chicken pox. 

All evening I am in argument with myself, were they or were they not chicken pox? Whatever it was, it was getting worse. And my child was getting angry. He was screaming and screaming. He didn't like his bath, I didn't blame him. He looked a hot red angry mess. Some lovely helpful Mummy friends did their best to help. But no one knew.... no one could tell what it was exactly wrong.  Well, except my brother who had his doubts...I went to bed that night, confused and worried. Just hoping that I will wake up next to a child full of clear unmistaken chicken pox covering him. 

I woke the next morning, hubby left with a kiss and told me Dylan had more spots on his face. I sighed a breathe of relief. Finally the chicken pox have come out as they are meant to. I couldn't see him much in the dark, but I could hear him talking to me and sucking on his bottle of water. I cuddled and tickled him, then I got up and turned on the light. He made a noise so I turned to look at him. 

My face dropped. I cried. I ran over to him with my phone (more photo snapping was needed) and I just cried. Where had my baby's face gone? The boy that looked up at me didn't look like my Son. His eyelids were so puffy, his nose was. 

This was not chicken pox. This was not normal. 

I phoned my husband, told him to come back. I got Zac looked after by my sister and we went straight to A&E. I just sat there. Numb. Every time I looked at my Son, fresh tears came to my eyes as he wasn't looking like my littlest man anymore. Sat in that waiting room, I felt sick, I felt panicked. I felt lost and confused. I just stared at my precious little man with tear stained cheeks and prickly stinging eyes. I just wanted and wish for him to be ok. To go home, happy and healthy. We were quickly seen by triage who straight away dismissed chicken pox. 

Then we went and played in the games room. I watched this little boy before me, smiling happily. For him it was a day out playing with new toys, reading new books. For me it was a nightmare. All I wanted to know, was what was wrong with my Son? My beautiful boy. I felt feelings of fear, what was wrong? Was this dangerous? Was he ok? I watched the spread of the rash, fearfully. It was getting worse by the hour. I was feeling failure. What had I done wrong? Why was this happening? 

We got seen, again, fairly promptly. The doctor got me to strip Dylan, so I did. I looked at him and felt a lump enter my throat. His body was covered. He looked awful. He was so hot to touch. They did their usual routine checks, and came in letting us know that it looked like an allergic reaction so to try steroids and Puriton. So we did, then we waited. 

Dylan got hyper.... very hyper. It made me happy seeing him jumping on the hospital bed, smiling, despite what his body looked like. He then got too crazy, so I held and rocked him till he fell asleep. I then sat in this hospital chair, quiet and alone. (The hubby had gone to buy some lunch for us) I knew we were safe in the hospital, in the right hands, I knew this wasn't anything dangerous as such, I knew this could be much worse. But I just sat still, sad to see my baby covered in a hot angry red rash. I just hoped that it would fade. I looked at this peaceful sleeping toddler sprawled out long across my body and over the edge. My precious littlest man. I'm his Mother, I'm the one that needs to make sure he's ok and that nothing happens to him. My gorgeous boy, for that I felt so grateful sat there peacefully holding him. 

The doctors came back after a while and confirmed that it was an allergic reaction as the rash was fading. They told me to come back if he got worse, they reassured me. I was frightened about it happening again so they tried to reassure me with that; stating it shouldn't be worse than this so hopefully next time we can pinpoint it; 

"Or we may never find out what did it"

That phrase right there. That one. That makes me feel like I failed. How could I not know what caused this to my child?! How could I not figure it out?! I am so angry and sad. I want to know. I still don't know but I need to know. 

We left with medicine that he finishes tonight. That night, I finished dinner and I sighed. And then the tears came. They poured out. My head and my heart hurt from the events of the days that had been. I felt relief that he was home with us, happy and healthy. But the worry never faded, it still hasnt. So i just cried. I cried and I cried until my head throbbed, my face felt sticky with tears and I felt tired out. 

He's been a mad boy on steroids and then he's crashed with Puriton. His rash has for the most part gone, but each morning as I undo his nappy fresh spots that weren't there the night before appear. 

I've no idea why. I just hope they aren't there tomorrow. 

I have so much fear that it will happen again, this time I fear we won't be so lucky. 

I feel anger that we were misdiagnosed by my GP's office as the face of my child puffy, is now an image I can never erase. I feel angry at myself, for letting this happen. 

I feel like I failed. As a Mum. My number one job is to look out for my little guys and yet this happened. And I have no idea what caused it, whether it will happen again. I don't even know what I can do. All I can do is hope. Hope and try my best again. 

I am grateful, however, for the doctors, friends and especially my family that helped out in this confusing, stressful and worrying episode in my parenting life. I am also very grateful that I have both boys, sat with me, playing with a mop and a bucket, because whatever floats your boat! I am so so grateful that this wasn't worse than it could have been and that he is happy and normal within himself. 

I am so grateful to be a Mum of 20 Tiny Toes because they give me the Biggest Adventures, even if some are scary, emotional, draining and just plain horrible. 

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