Right now, I am sit­ting on our couch stew­ing about our house sit­u­a­tion and lis­ten­ing to A cough.    Poor kiddo.  He has had a slightly runny nose for the past cou­ple weeks.  It hasn’t even been runny, but every once in a while, he needs a tis­sue.  It just seems like it is a bit more than a nor­mal nose.

Now, he is cough­ing.  If you have read my past blog posts about my cur­rent frus­tra­tions with my health, you prob­a­bly know that cough­ing is a sore sub­ject for me.  As long as I can remem­ber, cough­ing has been my symp­tom of a cold.  When­ever I hear one of my kids cough­ing, I am imme­di­ately anx­ious about it.  I think about how I feel when I can’t sleep because I am cough­ing.  I think about how it has been such a strug­gle to get an answer for the cause of my cough­ing.  I think about how he must feel.  In fact, at some points, the trou­ble we have had con­trol­ling both mine and K’s allergies/asthma/coughing/whatever it is has actu­ally affected my think­ing about hav­ing more chil­dren in the future.

Right now, as I sit here and lis­ten to him cough, I feel like this is some­thing I did to him.  Poor kiddo.