A fever, a silence, and a fight we weren’t ready for.
Our happy moments from the trip didn’t last long.
By the time we got home, Adi had a slight fever. I gave him paracetamol, and it came down. He was a bit cranky but seemed better after some rest. I kept monitoring him and giving him fluids. I wasn’t too worried. It felt like just another routine fever — something every child goes through.
But I was so wrong. I had no idea what was coming.
By late evening, his fever shot up. And before I could even process what was happening, he stopped moving. He stopped responding. No reaction to our voices. No movement. I thought we had lost him.
We rushed to the hospital with our unresponsive child. In the emergency room, doctors and nurses surrounded him, checking, poking, giving injections. All the while, he lay still. No response.
About 25-30 minutes later, he let out a loud cry — he was back. The doctors said he had a massive seizure, probably because of the high-grade fever. We breathed again. We hadn’t lost him.
He was kept in the PICU for the next 2-3 days, and then shifted to the regular ward. They ran many tests. One thing I truly appreciated was how the doctors explained everything — what they were doing, why, and what to expect. They also took time to listen, to understand our fears. All this while, I kept thanking the Universe for this, for giving Adi the best possible care.
With no other family around, both of us took turns at the hospital. Mornings, nights, naps — all blurred into one. I’d sit and watch the monitors, scared of every flicker. I stayed the night, my husband stayed during the day. I’d go home, freshen up, eat something quickly, and come back. Those few hours away were the hardest. I was constantly scared.
Looking back, those days felt endless. So long, so heavy.
As Adi got a little better, he didn’t want to stay in bed. But he was still weak. So I carried him, walked up and down the corridors. We played with toys, read books, and tried our best to keep him engaged.
Each time I looked at him in that hospital gown, my heart broke.
I was exhausted — physically, mentally, emotionally. I felt I had reached my limit. But that’s the thing about being a mother — somehow, you find strength. Motherhood gives you strength you didn’t know you had. Even when you feel you have nothing left. Somehow, you go on.
After 7-8 days, the doctors gave us the green signal. We brought Adi home.
The four of us — together again. Exhausted. Relieved. Grateful.
The days in the hospital felt like forever. But we were home. And that was everything.