The Wee Child has been having horrid coughing fits for the past few weeks. Coughing fits that wrack his tiny body and force him to vomit and tend to happen only at night. Well, except for one incident at school, but I shudder to think about that one.

It’s been hard. Darling Hubby and I have been swapping off staying up with him during attacks. Nothing seemed to help at all! We were frantic and it seemed as though the doctor didn’t believe us. Two different medicines were prescribed and then a third over-the-counter one was suggested. Finally, after four coughing fits last night (and four bath towels to get things clean), I had had enough.

I took today off and bundled Wee Child off to the doctor’s office. This time, he coughed in front of both the nurse and the doctor. And finally, I was heard and he was diagnosed with asthma.

It’s funny. Until today, Darling Hubby was the calm one. I was upset about everything and worried. I swear, at this rate, I’ll need to visit my hairdresser for a colour soon! But now, now I have a name. Now, I can google and research and take control. Darling Hubby, however, is freaking out now. He decided that he needed a night cuddling with Wee Child, so they are curled up in the guest room downstairs.

I did have one bad moment tonight. Wee Child is to use a nebulizer each night. No biggie. He’s seen his great-grandmother use one before.  Besides, he has a child’s nebulizer where the face mask is shaped like a fish. He thinks it looks like a soldier’s gas mask too. For me though, seeing him in nothing but his PJ’s, curled up on Darling Hubby, with his little mask on, broke my heart.

I once heard a quote that has stayed with me since I was pregnant: “You will never know love until they place your baby in your arms and you will never know fear.” I knew fear tonight, watching my brave little guy calmly breath in the medicine that will help him breath. I spent so much energy today keeping everything normal, it hurt to see something so abnormal. It was like a slap in the face.

Yes, I know he’ll have a regular life and that asthma won’t affect him much on a day to day basis. For tonight, in the hush of the house, when everyone else is asleep, I can let my guard down and be scared. I can accept the terror of a mother who can’t control her child’s illness — who can’t simply kiss the boo-boo away this time. Come morning, I’ll be fine. For now, though, I’ll sip my tea and try to ignore the bright green nebulizer on the side table. I may even shed a few tears just to get everything out of my system.

Yep, tomorrow it will be fine and we’ll deal with it and move on. Tonight, I’ll pray and worry before I toddle to bed.