"Sometimes when I wake up, my mouth goes back to sleep." It was weeks ago Kathryn told me this. I paid it about as much attention as I pay to most of the nonsense she says.
It's impossible for the human mind to pay attention to all of the words that come out of a child's mouth. To try would be to court insanity. Court it, marry it, and raise children with it. So sometimes it's not until weeks after an utterance is made that its import comes to you. And kicks you in the face.
Kathryn awoke hours early this morning and crawled into bed with me. She put my arm around her, curled up against my chest, and fell back to sleep, and by sleep I mean beat the crap out of me. A sleeping Kathryn could power a city. Boise, perhaps. She is a marvel of kinetic energy, arms and legs twitching, starting, quivering, flailing. Bruising. Sound asleep, the girl spins around so much, all she is missing is an "air fluff" setting and she could be a clothes dryer.
This morning, as the hours of night gave way to day, Kathryn woke up once or twice, pulled my arm tighter around her--exposing my soft underbelly to her assault--and then drifted back to her pummeling sleep.
When she finally woke up for keeps, she sat bolt upright in my bed and I got to watch her have a seizure.
Twelve years ago, when I lived in Japan, I had a secret desire to experience an earthquake. I wanted to know what it felt like. So when one finally happened, here's what I learned: They feel wrong. They fill you with the overwhelming feeling that something wrong is happening, something that shouldn't be possible. Things--walls, beds, floors--behave in ways that they shouldn't, in ways in which they've never behaved before. That's what watching a seizure is like.
Her jaw locked open and her face shook. Her eyes rolled. Way back in her throat, her tongue clicked. She looked like a person trying to perform some Herculean feat, shaking with the exertion of lifting a boulder or willing something to explode with the power of her mind. It lasted for all of fifteen seconds, about as long as that long-ago earthquake, and then it ended. Kathryn's eyes came back forward, she gave a long blink, and her hand reached up to wipe away the two lines of spit making their way from the corners of her mouth to her chin. Her first words were too slurred to be understood, so she paused, swallowed, and repeated them.
"That's why I keep tissues next to my bed. Because sometimes my mouth goes back to sleep."
Holy Crap that was a scary post. Like, the scariest post I've ever read. I'm so sorry this is happening.
Posted by: Taylor | May 08, 2008 at 03:42 PM
Awwww...poor girl!
And poor you for being pummeled by her!
My daughter sleeps on my head when she ends up in our bed. ON MY HEAD. AND steals my covers.
Posted by: Danielle-lee | May 08, 2008 at 03:44 PM
That's heartbreaking. My 3yo had a seizure last summer and it is just gut-wrenching to watch. That flailing/spinning in bed is seizure activity, no? I'm so sorry she's having breakthrough seizures.
Posted by: HeatherK | May 08, 2008 at 03:44 PM
Poor sweetie! At least you understood wtf she was talking about. Sending lots of positive energy from ATX.
Posted by: Jennifer | May 08, 2008 at 03:49 PM
I sincerely hope the jackass pediatric neurologist calls you back immediately and that there is a simple solution. That is some scary shit right there.
Posted by: Burgh Baby | May 08, 2008 at 03:53 PM
I have to commend Kathryn for how brave she is. As scary as it is for us to READ about it, she is the one actually going through it physically. She is amazing.
Posted by: SherE1 | May 08, 2008 at 04:05 PM
How frightening. What a strong, brave little girl. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and thinking of all of you.
Posted by: Keen | May 08, 2008 at 04:16 PM
That is so frightening!! What a brave little girl you have. When my oldest (now almost 7) was an infant, he had a febrile-seizure once. Scared the dickens out of me!! Hopefully things get figured out soon.
Posted by: ~Steph | May 08, 2008 at 04:44 PM
frightening!!! But I have a feeling this is so much scarier for YOU than it is for her. Oy.
Posted by: heidi | May 08, 2008 at 04:51 PM
It must be comforting to you to hear her be so matter-of-fact about this. It still sucks, but at least she's not terrified or even sorry for herself when she has a seizure. In fact, she's got such a wonderful and mature problem-solving attitude, quietly keeping tissues next to her bed instead of relying on you to figure out what to do about the spit after a seizure. Bless her sweet heart.... what a dear little girl.
Posted by: b | May 08, 2008 at 05:51 PM
I feel genuinely *afraid* reading this, as if it's happening right in front of me. It is so scary to me, I can't imagine what YOU did while this was going on...
Posted by: Jen | May 08, 2008 at 06:15 PM
Wow. She doesn't even realize what it is. She just matter of factly keeps tissues by her bed. That would've scared the shit out of me. I can't imagine having to watch my little girl do that. I can't even imagine what that must've felt like. She's tough cookie that Kathryn.
Posted by: Laura | May 08, 2008 at 06:29 PM
What a poignant post. Kids just see things so matter-of-factly, don't they? Things that would scare many adults half to death.
I think it's wonderful that Kathryn doesn't see seizures as scary anymore but just a natural part of her life. (and from the sounds of it, you too)
Posted by: Scattered Mom | May 08, 2008 at 07:16 PM
Oh how scary! I would've flipped out! I think I've officially read the most scary post I've ever read... I am so sorry she, well you are all going through this! I hope your dr can help out soon! I just can't imagine actually seeing it all happen... She's so brave... Hugs to everyone..
Posted by: MommyMoments | May 08, 2008 at 07:44 PM
Wow. I've been reading for a while, never commented. But that's a hell of a post. Kids are amazing, aren't they? Just so matter-of-fact about life, because they come to it with no expectations. Unfortunately, we as adults (and especially parents) can't be quite as calm. So scary. I hope that her neurologist is able to help control her seizures better.
Posted by: Gwen | May 08, 2008 at 08:18 PM
Wow. She sounds amazing.
Posted by: Susannah | May 08, 2008 at 08:38 PM
I'm so sorry you guys are going through this right now-- that is very scary. I've always felt that after watching a dog have violent seizures, it would be terrifying to watch a person do the same.
I hope this is easily treatable and she can grow out of it soon enough. Good luck to all of you.
Posted by: LiteralDan | May 08, 2008 at 08:42 PM
I cried when I read this. What a tough little cookie you have!
Posted by: Jen | May 08, 2008 at 09:07 PM
Well this shows what a brilliant writer you are -- I never saw that coming. I can't even imagine how scary that must have been for you because it scared the shit out of me. I'm so sorry this is happening to her (and your whole family) and I hope the Neurologist can get it figured out soon.
Posted by: Katie | May 08, 2008 at 09:28 PM
I'm so sorry....
Posted by: Victoria | May 08, 2008 at 09:32 PM
Wow. Terrifying. My heart goes out to you and her and I hope that speedy answers make their way to you.
Posted by: labelsareforjars | May 08, 2008 at 09:34 PM
(((The Dad))) (((The Mom))) (((Kathryn))
Beat that Neurologist if you have to.
Posted by: KK | May 08, 2008 at 10:13 PM
I can't even say anything because everything sounds so stupid, inane, and inadequate. My heart goes out to you - as others said, i was scared just reading about it.
Posted by: JO | May 08, 2008 at 10:26 PM
My heart aches for you. How terrifying! I hope that it's something minor, something she'll grow out of.
Posted by: Sadia | May 08, 2008 at 10:44 PM
My heart totally sank, deep... My sincerest and most heart felt prayers...
Posted by: Terri Hedden | May 08, 2008 at 11:23 PM