Life is funny. You make plans for the day, week, month and you just expect that things will go your way. Then sometimes something happens that completely derails you.
Friday, I was at work when I got a phone call;
Raegan was having trouble breathing.
I left as fast as my legs would move and came home to find her wheezing and chest and tummy working overtime to catch her breath.
Again, we were back at Sick Kids, though it was with Raegan, not Ella. When they saw how hard it was for her to breathe, we were rushed right in.
Essentially my teeny tiny Itty Bitty girl was having an asthma attack. And I knew she would be fine, I knew it, but seeing her with a stat probe on her foot and the alarm going off again brought me right back to their time in the NICU.
I knew she would be ok, but when I was sitting in the cafeteria, a place I’ve sat in many times before, I had to hold back sobs. The thing is, the girls’ time in the NICU left deeper scars than my c-section one did, and sometimes they’re really hard to see, and other times they’re right on the surface, like I just got them.
My little one is doing better, and after a few rounds of inhalers and medication, she was back to her usual feisty self.
That’s the thing about trauma, you make plans and then something happens, and your world stops. For everyone else, it keeps spinning, but you’re standing still, trying to remember to breathe. But, eventually you do, and you remember how to walk again, and if you’re lucky, you have an adorable curly – haired wild child waiting to give you cuddles.