We had quite a scare yesterday. We attended a craft day at a friend's house, and just as we were readying to leave, Twyla started choking. I didn't panic, but I also didn't have that clear-headed call to action that you hear about. My brain just stopped working. Here was my baby turning purple, and I think I was just looking at her. Well, maybe not. It's kinda fuzzy now. I think I tried to reach into her mouth, but I'm not sure. One of the women there suddenly recalled the child CPR class that she had taken 15 years ago, and took her from me to try to clear her airway. She started to do a sweep, and tipped her head-down. The offending object must have come out of her airway because she regained her color, but seconds later, she began gagging violently. It went on like that for a little while (which seemed like an eternity), where she would seem fine, and then gag again. She threw up breastmilk and a tiny bit of apple, but I didn't think that had been what was causing the problem- it was really small.
Eventually, she was breathing fine, and no longer gagging. Someone had called 911 while this was going on, and because the home we were at is very close to the fire dept., there were firemen there almost immediately. An ambulance was close behind. It was so much commotion, and I can't recall any of the faces of the emergency responders. I was so focused on her. They listened to her lungs, and since everything seemed good, they left quickly.
I can't imagine what I must have looked like. Probably blank. I felt like I was panicking inside, but I don't think it was showing on my face. There were so many kids there, and they all seemed pretty shaken up by everything. I know I was. I just felt near tears all night long. It was so scary. It made me feel like my kids were suddenly very fragile, and that they could be taken away from me at any minute. I've never experienced so intensely the fear that my baby could die. That's just not something that has ever felt threatening. My kids have always been very healthy, and free from big accidents. So I was not prepared for how shaken I would be by this.
Today the mystery object revealed itself in Twyla's diaper. A pink sequin. It was a shiny beacon amidst the poo, screaming, " I could have killed your baby!" My god. Something so small and innocuous-seeming. I am so paranoid now that a stray penny or Lego could find it's way into her mouth and this time I might not be right there to see it. I wonder if I'm now overly worried about this because I just experienced a bad scenario, or if I SHOULD be worrying more than I normally do. Should I be scanning the floors every morning before I put her down? I don't want to raise my kids to be fearful of everything, but I also don't want to be so blase that something terrible occurs because I wasn't vigilant enough. Where's the happy medium? Or is there one at all? Am I just at the mercy of fate? This has really brought up so much more than I could have possibly imagined. I feel very uncertain. I don't like that feeling. I want to be a confident parent like I was yesterday when I woke up. But now I feel like I was an OVERconfident parent. Maybe I needed that smack in the face. Who knows. Crap. Just one more example of mothering being a hard job. The mental and emotional aspects are so taxing.
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