We were awakened by the sound of Zachary gasping for breath about 12:30AM last night. He was in a panic, his eyes huge and terrified. With every breath in and every breath out, his neck and chest constricted tightly as he struggled to breathe. It had come on fast.
Before I even made it to him, Paul was working on a breathing treatment -- our only defense in the battle.
Several times, Zach started to cry in his panic. But each time I was able to calm him and remind him of his important job: to breathe. No breath for crying. No breath for talking. Just breathe.
You could literally hear his stridor and struggle across the house. He was in the middle of a big, bad one.
Starting a second treatment, Zach's condition had not improved. While I tried to decide whether to call 911, Zach's desperate question, broken up between labored breaths, caused me to make the call. With huge, terrified eyes, he asked me, "Am I going to die?"
While huge tears leaked from his eyes, I assured him he was not going to die. "Just keep breathing. Look at me. You are doing great. Keep breathing."
I called 911 and reported what was taking place. They immediately got the ambulance in route. While we waited for help, Paul held Zachary and I worked to keep him calm and breathing. A few minutes later the ambulance finally arrived at our house.
Upon arrival, the paramedics informed us that he needed to be transported to Cooks ER. While they prepared Zach for transport, I quickly dressed and grabbed my purse.
Zach continued to be an amazing trooper. The lack of breath horrified him. The pain in his throat and chest terrified him. And the ride on the stretcher and into the ambulance made him panic. He was shaking and wide-eyed as they hooked him up to machines and started an IV.
By the time we reached the hospital, he had had a dose of steroid intravenously and 4 breathing treatments. His breathing was still quite labored, but the retractions were less severe. Still, no stethoscope was needed to hear his wheezing.
I just sat beside him, holding and rubbing his hand, while the nurses worked to get him more stable. About 15 minutes after arrival, I noticed that I couldn't hear his breaths anymore. A really good sign!
As Zach's breathing became easier, he realized how sleepy he was. It was 2:30AM. But before he would let himself relax even a little bit, he turned to me with his big, scared eyes and asked, "Mom, if I go to sleep, do you think I will die?"
I again assured him that he wouldn't die, that all of these people were watching him and would help him. But he still didn't relax at all. I don't think he believed me.
The doctor came in and told us that what Zach had experienced was a combination of croup and asthma. We could go home, but we were to come back if it started again.
Finally a little after 3AM, Zachary said something to me and realized that his voice didn't sound hoarse or constricted. His eyes lit up, his burden of fear was lifted, and he beamed at me, "Mom! My voice! It's better!"
And that was his turning point. That is when he was convinced that he wouldn't die. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. He finally let himself believe that he was, indeed, going back home.
"I can't wait to see my daddy!"
"I can't wait to see my house!"
We came home around 3:30. (Thanks, Papa, for picking us up in the middle of the night!) And Zach danced around a little bit in the dark living room -- literally celebrating life!
Last night and today, we've had several discussions about asthma and about death. He keeps asking about it. He was terrified. Oh, how it breaks my heart to know how scared he was.
And again, we are thanking God for sparing Zachary's life! Thank You, Lord!














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