You would think by the time you hit kid #4, you’d have it all figured out–at least, all the baby stuff. Right? Or…not.
This is a story about Tylenol. Or, since we’re a generic type family, acetaminophen.
Michael had his 2-month well baby visit on Monday. You know what that means–shots. Michael’s face went beet-red–I mean, beet–with two little yellow dots in the middle where his eyebrows came together. But then he was fine. The nurse wrote down dosages for the various formulations of acetaminophen and sent us on our way.
About bedtime, Michael became inconsolable. It seemed like any way we touched him caused him agony. We’ve never had an immunization reaction, at least not like this, so I ran upstairs and gave him a dropperful of acetaminophen without looking at the nurse’s notes. After all, it’s either one dropperful or two, .8 or 1.6, and I knew I needed the smallest dose. As the night progressed, he refused to wake up. At the 4 1/2 hour mark, feeling my own well-being reaching the danger zone, I went and got him up, but he refused to nurse. Flat-out refused. After fifteen minutes and a second dose of medicine, I managed to get five swallows of milk down his throat. I put him back to bed and went downstairs to pump. On the way, I tripped on a shoe left on the stairs and slid the rest of the way down. Temper tantrum. Bad mood. Resentment skyrocketing. Can’t sleep…though everyone else in the house is like the dead, even the one that shouldn’t be.
As I wandered around the middle floor, I decided to get out the sheets on immunizations, you know, the ones they hand you every time but you never, ever read. I figured I’d look at the reactions and see if extreme sleepiness and lack of appetite was par for the course. And I saw the handwritten dosage note: .4 mL.
My insides turned to a hard rock. I’d just given him .8. Twice. I thought a whole lot of words not fit for the public and turned on the computer to look up acetaminophen overdose, and by the time I finished reading I wanted to throw up. All reason told me that .8 mL is a miniscule dose and they build in huge margins of error…but the fact remained that his symptoms were right there on the computer screen.
I called poison control at 2:45 a.m., and a lovely woman named Janelle talked me down from the ledge. In the morning, Michael sort of ate, and began coughing, and it was soon clear that he was not overdosed, he had simply, and finally, succumbed to a full-blown virus.
But I didn’t give him any more medicine.
Fast forward to last night. At 1a.m., he woke up screaming. Not crying–screaming. He wouldn’t nurse, he wouldn’t let me put him down so I could go pump–he was absolutely inconsolable, and he kept rolling up in a ball like his tummy hurt. I managed to get him to sleep on my chest for a little while, but by 2:30 a.m. I was out of tricks, and I pulled out the acetaminophen again, this time turning up the light to make sure I got the correct dosage. And I discovered something that made the bottom drop out of my stomach again.
The dropper is not .8. It’s more like 1 or 1.2. And I gave him a full dropperful. Which means what I told Janelle on the phone last night about his dosage is wrong. And the web site said the symptoms of overdose usually show up 12 hours or more later, and abdominal pain is a big one on the list.
I cannot call poison control two nights in a row. I just can’t.
What if my baby IS overdosed, and I DON’T call, just because I feel stupid?
I thought about what I’d read: liver damage, brain damage. I can’t imagine having another child with special needs, not when it was my fault.
I called.
Janelle answered the phone again, thank God, and after about three exchanges she remembered me from the night before. She talked me down off the ledge again (because let’s face it, at this point I was on the way to a second night running of less than four hours’ sleep, on the heels of a week or more with less than five. Let’s be frank, I was not in a good emotional place). “Let me do the math for you,” she said kindly. “How much does he weigh?” Calculation, dosage, division. “It’s probably a one-mil dropper, and he could have ten of those before he overdosed.”
Thank God…crisis averted.
I laid down with Michael on my chest again, in flagrant violation of everything anyone’s ever told you about baby safety, and I listened to his horribly stuffy nose…and didn’t get back to sleep for an hour. But at least I knew I didn’t poison my baby. And I am properly humbled. It’s clear to me that I will never, never have this whole parenthood thing figured out. Even the part I’ve done four times.
Kathleen M. Basi 
Oh, poor mama! Glad everything turned out okay. We all do things that accidentally hurt our babies and then feel like the worst mothers afterwards. But they turn out okay somehow!
{{{Kathleen}}}} So thankful that all worked out fine… and that you called when you needed questions answered
Oh no! That sounds like a mother’s worst nightmare, especially, or perhaps even more so on so little sleep. I’m glad Michael is ok and I hope you’re recovered as well!
So scary! Everything is worse during the night, too! You know, that’s why they pulled infant drops from the shelves? Because people inadvertantly gave their child the dosage of children’s suspension when they were actually using the more concentrated infant drops. I think it’s a good idea. Dosing is so confusing when you have multiple children with different dosages. I can never keep them straight.
The nurse said there were two concentrations on the market right now, and that’s why she gave me two different possibilities. I haven’t paid any attention to that stuff, because we so rarely need to dose and we always just look on the bottle. For a long time, if it said “ask a doctor” for the littlest child, I’d just give half of whatever the smallest dose was, b/c that’s always what the doc’s told me to do. What’s up with me getting freaky-paranoid now, after so long?
Oh, I’m so sorry, my friend. I constantly doubt my parenting. I’ve got four kids with four very different personalities. Nothing works for all of them! Motherhood is humbling and a constant learning process, but nothing grows us up better. But you already know that.
Praying for more restful nights soon!
You poor thing! I’m so sorry this happened!
This reminds me of something that happened with Vincent when he was 2 weeks old. Vincent is my 5th child and the 4th whom I have bottle-fed from birth. When Vincent was 2 weeks old, that Friday night, Craig had gone off to work, the kids were in bed and Vincent was having his bottle and he kept acting hungry. We did 3 oz, and he still seemed to want more, so I gave him more. Anyway…he ended up projectile-spit-up…it came out of his nose and everything. I was so scared. I knew better than to give that tiny baby so much, but I was tired and his cries seemed like hungry cries. I ended up sleeping with him on my chest in the recliner so I could hear his breathing all night long.
I tell you this mainly so you can know that you are NOT ALONE! ever. I think we’ve all been there at one point or another. Vincent has done beautifully and is now 7 months and everything is all good.
Prayers for you as I know these first few months can be so stressful, especially with a full plate of work, other children, husband, family and church commitments.
I am BEYOND annoyed that they will not put dosage info for infants on bottles. I know, they want you to call the doctor (but honestly, how many of us use Dr. Google for that type of stuff now) but then the Doctor gives you the chart, and you are supposed to, in the middle of the night, when you are tired, when there is a screaming baby, figure out which kind you have. PUT THE CHART ON THE BOTTLE!!!
You’re NOT a loser mom nor are you the first one to have had to call Poison Control over this. The last two times I’ve bought Tylenol, it hasn’t been the dropper and it has come with a syringe with different measurements on it. The only reason I know how to convert it is that I’ve had two lovely PICU experiences which have taught me how to do it.
I’m glad everything turned out okay. It’s so hard to concentrate on small amounts of sleep. Hope you can get some rest soon.
The last time I’ve suffered a full panic like that, was last summer ~ when Mia somehow managed to break into a child-proof medicine bottle, which was hidden at the bottom of my messy cavernous purse, which was hidden in the corner of my closet, under a pile of dirty laundry…. She was determined to give me a heart attack, I think.
We watched for signs all day long that she might have been poisoned, but apparently she just dumped the pills onto the carpet without eating any.
Now I hang my purse on a coathanger underneath my coat…. and the kids have graduated to new challenges. My purse is old news. But still…. the memory remains.
Hey girl, it is obvious you’re one of the most attentive mothers out there. Glad the crisis was averted. Hope that you’re really off that ledge and not wasting a bunch of energy kicking yourself. 🙂 xx
PS all mothers can relate, we hold hands with you…
I can definately relate!!!! We had a bunch of stuffy allergy noses in our house and I accidentally gave my youngest, who weighed about 45 lbs., the Benadryl dosage for my middle one, who weighed closer to 70 lbs. My cousin is a pharmacist and received a very panicked call from me. It was just fine, but he was pretty sleepy for a while. I hope things are looking better today!! The sleep will come.
I am glad everything is OK. I can imagine how you feel. Like someone else commented, we have all accidentally done something (or not done something) that made us feel like the worst mother in the world. They survive in spite of us!
Hugs.