I hear ya, Isabelle......The night my second grandson was born, we almost lost the first.
We'd just lost his uncle to esophageal CA only the day before, so the celebration of birth was somewhat tempered by the mental images of a weary warrior laying down his arms, just as a new 'soldier' met him on the pathway of life.
Eli was barely 19 months old when his baby brother came into the world via crash Cesarean section; not to be upstaged, he decided to try out some anaphylaxis, and then proceded to a full-blown seizure in his dad's car on the way home from the hospital. Back to the ER they came, Dad undoubtedly driving like the hounds of Hell were after them. I was still with my daughter as she was nursing the baby, when my husband ran into the room and told us that Eli was downstairs in the ER.
Her OB nurse and I popped her into a wheelchair and whisked her away so she could be at Eli's side as Grandpa watched over the little 'un. Almost immediately I wished we hadn't, because Eli was semi-conscious and he looked awful---he had broken out in huge, blotchy hives (we found out later he was allergic to milk) and his airway was also trying to close up. We had no idea what had caused the seizure, but his condition looked pretty critical so Life Flight was called to fly him to a specialty children's hospital 70 miles away.
Needless to say, his Mamma was nearly hysterical, and Grandma wasn't much better! My heart literally dropped into the pit of my stomach at the sight of him, because his color was bad in between the hives, and he was fighting for every breath, which I knew didn't bode well. But God is good, and evidently He figured we'd all been through enough for a while because Eli turned out fine, and so did the baby and Mamma and Daddy and Grandpa and Grandma. He's still got a mad milk allergy, and he and Cale fight like cats and dogs, but he's growing up fast......and the night he nearly died is now (thankfully) only a memory.