Life is ticking along like normal with your healthy, robust three year olds.
Then a cough comes, and a fever.
And it gets worse. And worse. And before you know it you're in the ER.
You're calm; you know it's probably very mild pneumonia and he'll get a chest x-ray and antibiotics and be back to himself in a day or two.
But that doesn't stop the tears. The trauma. The PTSD.
No matter how "over" the prematurity you think you are, days like today you remember. You spent almost half a year in the hospital watching your children hovering somewhere between life and death. Whether you are a happy, well adjusted family now, somewhere deep in your heart it is impossible to forget where you used to be.
Thankfully, time and time again, the boys have proven just how healthy they are. In this case, it's not even pneumonia, just an an upper respiratory infection that will be treated with antibiotics and Asher should be himself in no time. But that doesn't take away from the fact that every time the boys get sick, we still need to move faster and be more careful than we would with any other child. A cold or flu are never just a cold or flu until confirmed otherwise, and today we were reminded of that.
Asher is now home resting; Nolan, wondering where Asher was all morning, is relieved things are as they should be. Sadly it'll likely take me much longer to get over this than the patient himself.