Dear Livy,

I’ve been mentally preparing myself to take your brother to “Bone Juice” infusions without you. My hope is that our usually nurses and hospital volunteers in the play area will know and won’t have to ask me where you are. I haven’t been able to even  go to the grocery store because I know that people who see me are use to seeing you and they are going to ask. People miss your smile when you’re not around. I don’t want to have to tell them you’re gone, but last night I had to.

The last place on earth I want to be is an ER. However, I took Sage to the doctor, some random doctor because we still don’t have a new primary, but we had to go because Sage is sick and it has me scared. I had to tell the Pediatrician that you had passed away three weeks ago and that you had tested positive for both RSV and Rhino (common colds). That together they triggered an uncontrollable seizure that ultimately took your life. It was difficult to say out loud and I had to say it again when we went to the ER the following day. The doctor on Friday tested Sage for the flu and RSV. She said that we would get the results on Saturday and if he got worse over the weekend we should take him to the ER. Well his RSV test came back positive, he began coughing and his breathing got worse, which forced us to take him to the ER. 

We’re home now, but Sage had to have a couple breathing treatments and drink some sort of steroid thing to help his lungs. They sent us home with a neutralizer and we’ve given him three more treatments since we’ve been home. He’s doing better.

 All I can think about is how this strain of RSV is probably exactly what you had and because it’s so bad your body didn’t have the strength to fight it off. It’s horrible! He’s had fevers on and off and if you had his fevers you would have certainly started seizing. 

We’ve been taking it easy today. Sage has been sleeping majority of the time and I’ve been sitting right next to him. I’m freaked out. We take him in tomorrow morning for a checkup. All of this makes me think of you. You never had a chance to tell us how sick you were feeling the morning we had to call the ambulance. It makes me feel terrible. I had no clue that you were feeling sick at all the night before when I put you to bed. I wish I would have known you were sick. 

I’m sorry,

Momma