Today I am grateful for:
- The fact that when E2 choked on a piece of mango today, and my world slowed to a crawl as I realised that the wide-eyed, guppy-mouthing look of utter panic on her face was because she was desperately trying to draw in air that was not getting through, and I saw my arms reach out to grab her (Please God, please God, please God, just let it be sitting over the top of her windpipe and not be lodged halfway down…), and held my own rising panic in check as I threw her face-down over my knee and whacked her five times hard on her back, the mango blessedly dislodged itself and she drew a great, long breath. And, as I pulled her up and held her so tightly in to me, she let it out in an ear-shattering scream — the most wonderful sound — and my own panic broke free and I began to sob at what so nearly might have been. And, at that, E1 suddenly became frightened and rang over to me to be held and kissed, and I sat with my arms around my two, live, crying daughters and realised anew how fragile all of this really is.
- The fact that when, later in the day, E2 tripped over her own two feet and went flying forward, and landed on her face on one the sharp corners of the heating vent, it missed her eye — only by millimeters — and left its great, raised, purple welt on her cheekbone instead.
- The fact that when I was woken from an early evening nap by the sound of E2 screaming and M’s panicked voice yelling to E1 to “Go wake up Mummy! Go wake up Mummy now!”, and I leapt out of bed in mortal fear, I found that it was only that E2 had again managed to find her way into a poo-filled nappy, and had surprised her daddy by covering herself and everything within a 3-foot radius with the contents, and he was now spraying her down in the tub with one hand while gesticulating wildly with the other in the general direction of me, E1, and the poo, and yelling, “Can you see to that?!? And… and keep her from it! And…” Oh, is that all it is? Poo I can handle.
Stumble it!
I remember the day when my own little boy choked on a piece of rusk. I can still feel the fear I felt seeing his face turn blue, tounge out, fear in his tiny eyes. That was the single worst moment of my life. I sat shaken for days. I thank God he is fine, and I thank God she is too.
I think I need to go hug him.
It’s such a small thing and yet so terrifying. You always hear about babies and choking hazards, but I don’t think you fully appreciate until you see your own child choke. Scary scary stuff!
Though I do not have children, I do have a husband who soon with be 87 years old who has Alzheimer’s and who is regressing back to childhood. So, I know about panic and chaos, like, when he’s munching on an SOS Pad, thinking it’s a cookie, and rescuing him from a host of everything he gets into. I’m grateful for the love and gratitude I felt here and for you sharing.
Blessings,
Brenda