At work. Random Wednesday. Call from blocked number. (Yes, I’m answering those these days – it’s amazing what being a mumma does to you) while I’m at work. It’s probably someone about work.

Um, no. It’s not.

Hi, it’s Ollie, I’m one of the doctors from the hospital and we’ve just had another look at your baby’s chest x-ray.

Gulp. Don’t cry. Don’t panic. Well, try not to at least. A very tentative Hi Ollie manages to escape my lips.

How is your daughter?

Her temperature is down this morning for first time in 3 days. She’s still not her usually bubbly self and she’s coughing and sneezing, but hopefully she is on the mend.

We need you to bring her back in or take her to your local doctor as soon as you can, because we’ve found some pneumonia on her lungs.

[Don’t cry. You mustn’t. She will be okay. They have called and you will arrange to take her to the doctor and she will be fine. She WILL be okay.]

Have you got your lcoal doctor’s details with you? I’ll call them and make sure they have all the details they need.

Sure Ollie, here’s the number. And thank you.

In a flurry of phone calls, it’s been determined that her grandma can take her to the doctor and they can give her an emergency appointment in an hour.

How does a baby get pneumonia? How did my bubba get pneumonia? Where is that cotton wool so I can wrap her up and hold her close?

Send my sister a text message. I can’t speak to her. If I hear her voice I’ll cry.

My phone rings. It’s my sister.

I reach for the tissues.