So my son was back in hospital earlier this week. Luckily his bloodwork was normal, and he didn't have to stay long and was just treated with some IV fluids, but it was still stressful on all of us.
This incident took place a year to the day when he first became sick last December, and we had even joked about it before this latest ER run. It seems that we jinxed ourselves, though, because there he was, back under the care of Nurse Emma, who's come to know my boy by name.
Yeah, we're that family that's spent a little too much time in the ER.
I can joke about this now, only because my son recovered and is back to his usual bouncy, wiggly self again. But that moment always exists when I think to myself, "What if he doesn't recover?"
It's horrifying to think about, and I know I wouldn't be able to carry on if something serious happened to either of my kids.
The only thing that terrifies me more these days is the thought of something happening to either myself or my husband, thus leaving the kids to grow up without us.
While on a play-date yesterday with one of my daughter's former daycare friends, I learned from his mom that another of the moms in our circle has been going through chemo treatments this year.
And now I just can't stop thinking about her and how she must be handling each day. Like me, she has two young kids, a boy and a girl. And they are her world.
I messaged this other mom today to see how she's doing and to offer some assistance, and also to set up a play-date in the new year for our kids to run around and tire each other out while we adults get caught up. She sounded upbeat in her message back to me, but I just can't shake this feeling of dread.
This news is just so devastating and, unfortunately, a sober reminder that life can change in an instant.
Hug often. Live life. And, if blessed with longevity, make your moments count.