Was that 8? 9? I'm not sure, we lost count. Up at 4am with Oliver having seizure after seizure after seizure.
His body tenses up, he looks up at us, eyes filled with terror, he knows one is coming, he can feel them coming. It's about to take over his little body, and he's scared. We hold him as his head and back arch backwards and his limbs spasm, as he screams the unearthly howl of a seizure scream. Tears stream down my face as he collapses in my arms. Finally it is over. It wasn't long, perhaps ten, twenty seconds, but it feels like an eternity. He takes gasping breaths, desperate for air. His eyes plead with me "Please no more. Please Mommy make them stop" We hold him, hug him, kiss him, soothe him. We've already given him a dose of diazepam but it was fifteen minutes ago and the seizures are still coming. 5. 6. Chris runs to get another dose in the kitchen. We've got to stop the cycle before they get worse or longer. Chris is gone less than a minute while 7 and 8 attack our baby. Arching, screaming, gasping, tears. We are awake, but this is a nightmare. We give the second dose, two more shorter ones hit before they are finally over. At least for now.