The other night, I was once again reminded of how fragile my boys can be. That night, I laid awake stroking Connor's back, watching his chest heave far more rapidly and deeply than I would have liked. We've been through this before. He was 3 1/2 the last time it happened. We spent that night together in a cramped hospital bed as they gave him Ventolin through an oxygen mask. I cuddled him through this hourly process and watched his chest rise and fall all the while holding my own breath and unable to sleep for fear that he would stop breathing. I struggled with feelings of guilt and helplessness that night and for days, maybe even months, after. Even now, we don't know what triggers these episodes of respiratory distress. This time wasn't as bad as that last episode. He looks peaceful now. His breathing has returned to normal. I feel relieved and thankful for a lot of things. I'm grateful for the magic of modern medicine and that this ... a moment in time that feels like a lifetime where his whole body heaves heavily as he struggles with each quick breath ... isn't a regular fixture in his life.
Very warm summer-like weather graced us yesterday and the boys and I couldn't have enjoyed spending an afternoon at the waterfront more. I packed snacks and extra clothes (just in case the weather turned). No room for the big camera. And boy, did I miss having it.
There was a blanket of fog covering the lake while blue skies and the sun shone high above. The scene was absolutely stunning. I took these shots with my iPhone.