Bravo's allergies

I'm both excited and terrified to have Charlie's and Bravo's allergy appointments coming up in a month. I'm excited because I'll get to find out if Bravos allergies are decreasing even a little bit. I KNOW he hasn't outgrown them, but to just see the numbers on the RAST test go down would be a huge joy. I'm terrified of that not happening though. And I'm nervous as... I don't know as what, but I'm super nervous about Charlie's testing. I've been a crazy paranoid crazy person with worrying about him having allergies so he hasn't had a single bite of anything Bravo is allergic to. Not because I think that's a GOOD thing to do, but because a)allergy people have no idea what the best response is to avoid allergies in a child with a strong family history and b)I'm NOT learning the hard way again. The hard way sucked.

Which leads me to this post. The long over due post about how we discovered Bravos allergies. A lot of you know most or parts of the story. But I've never really gotten into all the details. Because it's hard to write out, it's hard to talk about or think about. That day was a bad one. And when I think about it I remember just how close we were to losing him and then my head spins and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't help but think of the "what ifs". What if we hadn't gotten there in time, what if we were that 5 minutes later, what if they couldn't get the IV in, what if there was a super long wait at triage like there normally is, what if he didn't make it- our lives would be so much worse.

So.
Allergies.
Bravo was a rough nurser. Well, lets be honest. Bravo was a rough baby. It took FOREVER for him to learn how to latch like a normal child. I think it was 12 weeks before he latched properly and stayed there. It was pretty bad. But he had finally started to latch and nurse properly. And then my supply started to decline. and then it entered a full crash. And he was hungry and screaming and freaking out. And I was out of pumped milk to give him in a bottle. He INSISTED in having a bottle before bed. So I gave him some formula, just normal enfamil. And he got gassy and miserable. He happened to have a doctors appointment so I mentioned it to her and she gave me a can of soy formula and said some babies just don't tolerate normal formula.
So that night he had 2 ounces of it. And he threw up and threw up and threw up. I thought it was odd. He had some pink in his diaper. I thought that was odd. The next day I took him to the children's ER and they said it was "just a common stomach bug" They seemed annoyed that I was there. I questioned them, saying that he had never had soy formula before and asked if it could have been that. They said no, it was a stomach bug. So we went home.

It took a few days for his appetite to return. He had massive soupy poops for the next few days. I had lots of time to build up my stash of pumped milk. But my supply was still crashing so it didn't last long. September 23rd 2009, 10 days after I gave him the bottle of soy formula I went grocery shopping while Matt fed Bravo his nightly bottle and put him to bed. I was out of pumped milk and had already nursed him and he then had a 9 ounce bottle of soy formula. While I was at the store Matthew called. Bravo was REALLY throwing up. It was about 8:30. I paid and booked it home. By 9:00 the boy had thrown up all over me, his dad, his room, the walls, the floor, his bed, the couch, every possible surface was covered in endless amounts of vomit. And he was still throwing up. We called Matt parents and asked them to come over to watch Alpha while we took Bravo in. We were bracing ourselves for a long night of waiting for 6 hours before being told it was a stomach bug and to go home. But He was just throwing up SO much I wanted to take him in. Matt's parents got to our house and Bravo had finally stopped throwing up. But he wasn't looking so hot and was still dry heaving and coughing and looking odd. SO we went to the hospital. Thinking the whole way there that the trip was a waste of time, that we would be there waiting forever. We got into triage and thankfully the line wasn't too big. We put him in his bucket seat on the counter and the nurse looked at him for a bit and had a strange look on her face. That's when I REALLY looked at Bravo. He was turning kind of grey. He was lethargic. He was wide awake but no crying came out of him (which was odd- if that boy was awake, he was screaming). I asked the nurse how long the wait would be to see a doctor. She said "hmmmnow. They said it with urgency and told us to follow them. We did none of the normal triage paperwork. We went through the first set of double doors then we went through this huge set of double doors with RESUSCITATION written in huge letters across the doors. Oh. My heart sank. That word alone implied that life was in danger and needed to be saved, life needed to be brought back to the person quickly or they would die. Why on earth were we in that room??? I don't think I can describe the fog that was in my head at that point.

From this point on it went into a blur. I remember scenes, not the whole event. Like there are just snapshots in my head of it, not rolling movie.
They put Bravo on this bed. There were about 15 or more people in the room all trying to help my tiny baby. This tiny lifeless body on this huge table. He was 4.5 months old. They poked him and poked him and poked him, needle after needle,IV attempt after IV attempt. Matt and I kind of squished to the side and each had a finger on Bravo. Bravo was staring at us. I think I was singing to him. His eyes were lifeless, not a cry squeaked out of him despite all the poking. A doctor came in and said "you need to come with me NOW." More urgency in his voice. I told him that Matt was staying. If this was going to be Bravos last moments he wasn't leaving this world not being touched by a parent. Hooo. Now the tears are coming. The doctor wanted both of us but I refused. Bravo was NOT going to be alone. Daddy was staying.

The doctor took me to "that" room. The room with a million tiny boxes of Kleenex and couches and chairs. It was the room the doctor took you in to give you really bad news. The room the doctor tells you something is seriously wrong with your baby- or worse. Wow- do I not want to go into that room ever again. He asked me what was going on, what had happened. I described everything including the last ER visit. he said I was probably right about it being a soy allergy. Then he said it was a good thing we got there when we did. I asked if he meant that Bravo would have died. He simply said "It's a good thing you got here when you did and not 5 minutes later." 5 minutes later? That's being stuck at 1 train or a couple more lights or not finding a parking spot or talking with my in-laws a bit longer or... 5 minutes is not a lot of time. I got back to the room and they had stabilized Bravos heart and he was breathing better but on oxygen. They had finally got 3 IVs in him. He was still not good, but he was out of immediate danger. They were going to admit him but a room wasn't ready. Another family was coming into resuscitation though and they didn't want us to see that so they were getting one of the private ER rooms ready for us until we could be admitted. I left the room because I had to go to the bathroom and I walked out back into the ER waiting room full of kids and I started to lose it. Tears started streaming down my face, hiccup sobs started coming out of my mouth and I had zero control over it. I had been OK up to this point, but now I was losing it. I walked to one of the bathrooms and some guy was about to go in it. He took one look at me and held the door and said "go ahead". I went in and I sobbed. And then I got it together and washed my face and went back to Matt and Bravo. We were just about to be transferred to the other ER room. We got in and Bravo made a little face- like a tiny pushing face. I checked his diaper and it was full, and I do mean FULL of pink runny stool. He was pooing blood. I showed the nurse and there was another flurry of activity. We were sent to ex ray to check out... something. I don't even know what. And then I was told I was not allowed to nurse him. That his insides needed a break. His intestines were bleeding from all of the poison in his belly. Then Bravo cried. You know that first cry a newborn makes where you're just so relieved to hear the baby make a noise, any noise? It was reliefe like that times... a lot. He was so tired and needed to sleep and I knew that I could get him to sleep in seconds if I could just nurse him. Or put him in his sling- but he was a mess of wires and tube so I couldn't do that, either. My heart ached, my breasts ached, I wanted nothing more than to comfort him the way he wanted. But I couldn't. We finally got admitted. I stayed with him in the hospital never leaving for 3 days. He wasn't allowed to leave until he would eat the super gross formula, nutramigen. Man, that stuff is nasty! And he need to stop pooing blood and not be dehydrated. I missed Alpha's second birthday on the 25th. I cried when there was the little girl just down the hall and her parents never once visited her. She sat in the swing by the nurses station for most of the day. Bravo and I went over and sat with her and talked with her often. I couldn't imagine leaving a 4 month old baby there and not visiting. It broke my heart.

We finally came home and eventually got allergy teasing and he is allergic to soy (surprise surprise), milk protein, peas, peanuts, and egg. He has since outgrown peas (wahoo!) and has also since had anaphalactic reactions to small amounts of milk. It's been a roller coaster and full of ups and downs, but that day will never be out of my head.

Sometimes Bravo will be having a really funny and sweet day. One of the days that really melts your heart. And those are the days that it hits me more. Bravo was having a day like that on Saturday and Matt's eyes welled up with tears and all he could say was "I'm so glad he's here". I don't think we as parents will get over that horrible horrible day. It will always be there that we were this close to missing out on everything he's doing. On everything that he is. The world would be a worse place without him. My world would be a worse place without him. Milk, I could do without. Bravo, not so much.

So that's the beginning of that story.