The Daily Hailey

Guys. Yesterday was such a gong show. I could make it into three blog posts at least. The day of promised productivity fell flat, where I didn’t get a shred of my list done. And not in that standard mom “there aren’t enough minutes in a day” way, but in a pretty overwhelming, needing to have a cry kind of way. The morning was a bust, and an afternoon of hope was a total waste of time. So I ranted again, and Brady sent me upstairs to our room to hide out and get some work done. 

Aaaaand then Waverly shook things up. 

Picture this scene with me. If you have kids, you may have seen it before. Brady was hanging laundry in a closet, and Wavy wanted to be picked up. She was sitting on the carpet, fussing. In frustration, she whipped herself back, and she hit her head, as you would expect. She started to cry, and Brady picked her up. He hugged her, but she started to push him away, hard. She started to shake and vibrate, and her cry turned into a scream. As it seemed she was about to relax and take a breath, her head tipped back, and her eyes rolled back in her head. 

Brady caught her head and called her name, trying to keep her awake. When she came to, she didn’t cry, and was almost falling asleep. He ran upstairs to where I was on the phone and said he needed backup. Waverly had no colour in her face. Her lips were dull. She was slow blinking, dozing off. He told me she had hit her head and seemed to have passed out. His explanation was short and to the point, but it felt like an eternity as I saw her keep dozing off on his shoulder. Isn’t that like the number one rule, that they shouldn’t sleep right after a head bonk?? I rubbed her back and bugged her enough that she finally started crying again and woke up a little. Brady walked down with her and I ran out to my van to get our health cards. Health Line was already ringing on the other end of my phone. I had already texted one of my her nurse friends. I was ON it. This was NOT ok. 

There didn’t seem to be a cut and dry answer, but there was definitely a lean towards going in. Had she badly injured herself? Had she had a seizure? We didn’t know. I called my mom and told her what had happened, and she ran right over. Brady and I were waiting in the entrance, and took off as soon as we could. I was nervous to go alone and try and navigate the new hospital on my own, and it turns out that was a good thing. 

I should say, the new hospital is lovely, from what I’ve seen. But dropping off at emerg was confusing. Where does someone park to just drop off?? Does anyone know? We couldn’t figure it out, so we backpedalled and parked in the oversized vehicle lot (a bonus of driving our bus!) and walked there. There were definite moments of thinking “hopefully no one hits us with their car, because we’re definitely on a roadway” but we just went as fast as we could.

Once inside, someone confirmed we were there for Waverly, and we were directed over to a separate children’s registration. That was a nice touch. It was quiet over there, and everyone was very nice. They asked her name and birthday, and when I went to get her health card from my wallet, they assured me it was fine, and she was in the system. Just from her birth! Cool, hey? I liked that, too. We were through that initial stage pretty quickly and were brought to a room within a couple of minutes. 

The rooms were nice. Big. Glass door so it didn’t feel dungeony. Cute animal paintings on the wall. A few too many shiny tools at eye level, so we couldn’t put Wavy down really, but she was nervous and tired and uncomfortable anyway, so we held her the whole time anyway. People came through a few different times, wanting retellings of the story. They asked a lot of questions, and it seemed like everyone was taking our concern very seriously. I appreciated that so much, because I’ve had enough kids and enough head bonks to know everyone is usually fine. But I’ve never had a kid react the way she did. Never ever. It wasn’t standard. And they agreed. It seemed clear that the nurses were leaning heavily towards seizures. 

Except that Waverly’s neuro exam was perfect. She had started to perk up, and she was chatting and dancing and waving and showing off. She wasn’t thrilled about being poked and prodded at all, and cried through her ear check, heartbeat check, and temperature. But she was a rockstar on every level. 

The nurse who was with us for basically the final decision making process wasn’t confident, so she went and consulted a doctor working emerg that night, and she came and spoke to us about what we’re going to call Wavy’s final diagnosis. 

We believe that Waverly had a pallid breath holding spell. More often a breath holding spell a reaction to anger, but sometimes, in response to pain, a young child’s body will forget to breathe. The body then passes out, like a safety feature, to force the child to breathe again. Its not an intentional temper tantrum thing. The child isn’t in control. It just happens in some kids. And apparently, Wavy is one of those kids. So when she was crying and upset already, and then she hurt herself good and proper, she got SO upset and cried hard enough that she quit breathing. And thankfully, she fainted, and when she went out, she was able to breathe again. 

I’ll throw in a tidbit from aboutkidshealth.ca because they explain it a bit more professionally, but its just bang on. (Whoops. Bad wording. Too soon.) It says: 

“Pallid breath-holding, which is less common (than cyanotic,) is triggered after a child experiences pain, for example, after falling or hitting their head. This can lead to changes to the child’s nervous system, which cause as the symptoms such as forced breathing or jerky movements.” 

The website also lists common steps in a breath holding spell. They go like this:

1. A brief, shrill cry. 
2. Forced breathing out, followed by stopped breathing.
3. Blue, purple, or pale skin. 
4. Fainting or loss of consciousness.
5. Jerky movements (short, “seizure-like” movements) only in extreme cases.

Straight up. It SUCKED. It was completely terrifying. We were reassured over and over that breath holding spells are not actually harmful, assuming she wouldn’t faint into something hard or fall off of something, but in general, the breath being held won’t hurt her. But everything we’ve read also acknowledges that its very frightening for parents. And that is not wrong. I don’t remember the last time I was so scared. 

We made it home around 9:00pm. The house was quiet, and my mom was contentedly in the living room, waiting. We told her all about it, and Wavy hacked into the toys and played with grandma. We were so thankful she had stayed awake for the drive home and we were able to see her settle back into her home and really be herself again. 

But I was even more thankful that she woke up this morning. I knew she would, but there is just something about that morning after a good solid head bonk where you really thank the Lord a little extra. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her, or to any of our children. 

That was a really, really scary evening. I don’t wish these things on anyone. That being said, I knew nothing of breath holding spells, so maybe someone else can learn something from our experience