Out of my hands.

Soooo, God has such a funny way of reminding me who's boss...

Just when I get life under control... under my control... The Great Puppet Master in the Sky strikes again.

Little TyTy came down with a cold + fever on Friday evening, and on Saturday both boys woke up a little hoarse and puny. I dosed them both with a little Benadryl and Tylenol as usual, and we all curled up on the couch and watched a little a whole stinking lot of Sesame Street and napped. Both boys were pretty lethargic, understandably so with a cold and some Benedryl on board. Ty woke up warm again so I stripped him down and he was playing with his toys, and Dax finally woke from his nap on the bean bag right at lunch time. I was wiping down his little table where he eats when I looked back over at him, only to see he had laid his head back down again. "Daaaax," I called. "Noooo sleeping. We have to eat some lunch now!" and I went over to wake him back up.

When I leaned over to kiss his little face, I saw that it was completely gray.

I picked him up and shook him, yelling his name. He was so, so gray, and his lips were completely blue.

He just flopped, completely limp. He was not breathing. He was completely unresponsive.

And the rest, as they say, really was just a blur.

I yelled out for Shep, over and over. I laid Dax down and started administering rescue breaths. I gave him sternum rubs as I was doing it hoping to jar him back awake.

Shep called 911. He yelled at Dax to wake up as he gave the dispatch Dax's info.

I just kept breathing for Dax and shaking him and begging him to breathe.

And then he did. Praise God, he did. I don't know how long it took; I don't know when. But he did.

I ran upstairs with him and put him on his oxygen and pulse oximeter, and I held him. When I placed him on his bed so I could look at him, he was still so limp, and so unresponsive, and so... not himself. But he was breathing.

When the First Responders arrived he was stable, and after their assessments he and I load into the ambulance for Dax's very first emergent ambulance ride since the day I went into labor with the him and his sister.

It was also his first real unscheduled "sick" visit. Ever.

And all I could think, ALL I could think, was what if I hadn't checked... What if we hadn't been right there... What if, what if, what if...

Thankfully he became more at himself during the ride, and, though he was lethargic, he was acting like Dax again when we settled into the room in the ER.

A rectal temp read 103. The other labs are drawn, and xrays are taken. Dax takes a nap, and we wait for answers.

And now it's Sunday afternoon, and we're in a room, and we're still waiting for answers.

The best educated guess is Dax obviously has a virus that precipitated either a major pulmonary episode or a febrile seizure. Apparently there will be no black and white "this is exactly what happened" diagnoses.

I'd sleep a whole lot better if there were.

But, for now, we're going to hang out in the hospital a while, to wait, and watch, and... be thankful...

Thankful the Lord continues to control the strings.