As a parent, I find myself holding my youngest son more closely than my other children. His affectionate nature naturally draws me in, but an intense fear lingers—one born from a traumatic experience when I nearly lost him to a rare illness. My eldest son, Jacob, faced a near-fatal incident with croup at just four years old.
It was a typical October Friday night three years ago. Jacob had caught a cold, and we braced ourselves for the impending croup episode. After putting the boys to bed, I ran out to purchase a humidifier. Upon my return, I set it up in their room and heard the telltale sound of labored breathing. I prepared myself for what seemed to be another sleepless night, likely requiring a doctor’s visit the next day. We had navigated this scenario before.
About 15 minutes later, an unusual sound from their bedroom prompted me to investigate. I rushed in to find Jacob thrashing in his bed, gasping for air. Without hesitation, I scooped him up and took him into the living room. Within moments, he was flailing in my arms, his skin turning blue. I dialed 911, and while on the call, he stopped breathing, transforming the conversation into an urgent instruction on CPR. I vividly recall that moment—laying him on the floor by the front door, where just moments before we had been ready to rush him to the ER. My husband began performing CPR on our son while I stood frozen, watching in horror. In that instant, I envisioned his life flashing before my eyes, wondering if this was truly how it would end.
Suddenly, ten firemen burst through the door, their arrival unnoticed amid my panic. They swiftly took over, cutting off Jacob’s favorite green pajamas to begin their work. I felt utterly powerless as his life hung in the balance. My mind wandered oddly, focusing on how they secured his car seat to the gurney—something I had never seen before. Before long, they wheeled him out to the ambulance.
Jacob was unstable, with dangerously low oxygen levels. Right outside our building, in the back of the ambulance, they intubated him while my husband and I sat on the curb, tears streaming down our faces. Once the procedure was complete, I climbed into the front of the ambulance, and we sped off to Children’s Hospital. Those 15 minutes felt like an eternity. I remember asking the ambulance driver whether Jacob would survive. The reassurance from the driver was a lifeline amidst the chaos.
After a few days in the ICU and a course of steroids, Jacob recovered without any lasting effects. The experience of almost losing a child is indescribable. It’s a profound helplessness, akin to reaching for a rope just out of reach while plummeting from a great height. You realize, in a heartbeat, the depth of your love for that child and how your life would be irrevocably altered without them. The relief upon his survival is not merely a sigh; it is the breath of someone who has just been rescued from drowning.
Three years have passed, yet the memories resurface each October. I still possess the green pajama top, cut down the middle, a painful yet cherished reminder of his miraculous escape. I bristle at the sound of sirens and feel an overwhelming urge to embrace every firefighter I encounter. The thought that I could have found him lifeless had I not checked on him that night still sends chills down my spine.
Recently, Jacob brought home a school project to create a timeline of his life. As we leafed through the photo books I compile for each of my children, laughter filled the room as he recounted moments from his early years. When he reached the section about his near-fatal night, a memory he does not recall, he paused, tears streaming down his face. He stopped to hug and kiss me before seamlessly turning the page, a powerful symbol of his resilience and the continuation of his life.
In summary, the harrowing experience of almost losing a child underscores the bond between parent and child, illustrating the depths of love and the fragility of life. Engaging with resources on fertility, such as those from Make A Mom or Healthline, can provide support for those navigating similar paths, while Make A Mom’s fertility booster for men offers additional insights.
Keyphrase: Near-fatal incident with croup
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