Long story short, Sophie had a big asthma attack in the night, night before last, and Chris ended up taking her to the ER at 4:30 a.m. They admit her around 7:30 because they couldn't get her oxygen levels up.
I call a little before 8 and tell Chris that I'll be up there in a few because Izzy and Suzi just got up, and he reminds me of a fact that hadn't occurred to either of us in the middle of the night: his car isn't running, so he had the minivan at the hospital with him. I was not impressed with our foresight.
I sat here fretting about it all day, worried and missing Sophie like crazy, while she sat in a hospital bed all day, happily eating popsicles and watching cartoons, and only missing me when they put the IV in her hand. Her oxygen levels finally came up after they gave her a bunch of steroids and breathing treatments, and she got to come home at dinnertime.
Shortly before she arrived, I glanced in the mirror over the sink as I was washing my hands and I look at the furrow between my brows with amusement. "There's the sign of a worried mom," I thought to myself. Then I looked a little closer, because as I smiled and my face relaxed I saw that the wrinkle DID NOT GO AWAY.
Thirty-six and three kids five and under. It was bound to happen.