It Could Have Happened...But It Didn't.

It'd been a rough night. Aiyana and I were both exhausted from yet another night of her new night behavior: waking every 2-3 hours wanting to play, and when ignored, would try and wake the house with her fussing and loud cries. Or often she'd just want to eat again. By 5:45am, I was done battling and pulled her into bed with me.

By 8am, neither of us were refreshed and she was still quite the grumpy baby. "Teething...maybe it's this stinkin' teething thing," I thought. So for the first time, I pulled out half of a frozen bagel and gave it to her to gnaw on. While she happily munched, I watched Grey's Anatomy on the laptop, still hiding alone in our room so as not to wake everyone else trying to sleep in.

After a few minutes, I noticed the bagel crumbling into mushy pieces much faster than I anticipated. I'd let her gnaw on that piece too long, so I pulled it away. It was then that I saw a big piece floating inside her mouth. She hadn't had solids yet, let alone bread. I swiped her mouth, and when she opened her mouth wide in loud protest, I saw an even bigger piece of bagel at the back of her tongue. As Aiyana cried, the piece slid further back and she cried harder, kind of coughing. She was going to swallow that bread and choke.


What was only seconds seemed to drag into a prolonged length of time, my breaths catching in my throat. But it's amazing how fast the mind works, whipping terrible memories and agonizing emotions to the forefront. In that instant, all I could see was that morning in Ty's nursery when I laid him on the changing table, swiping his mouth to check for obstruction and to help my breaths go in.
 
And the story I heard of the toddler who fatally choked on a piece of apple in the backseat of the car.
 
Snatching Aiyana in my arms, my thoughts raced. "She's going to die. I'm going to lose her, too." Bending her forward, I ran my finger at the back of her throat, simultaneously afraid I'd push it further back. I questioned my actions, but it was too late to stop. Aiyana screeched, and after two swipes, I pulled the bread from her mouth.
 
I held her tightly in my arms, allowing her to cry... so happy to hear her crying. I consoled her. And when she was done, I cried. I cried so hard against the bad memories, the all-too-familiar emotions. My fear released itself in tears down my cheeks and on top of her head, and I could breath again, trying to calm the thudding of my heart.
 
"She's ok, she's ok."
 
When Dan woke up from where he was sleeping in the living room, I cried again as I relayed the experience, feeling so guilty that our baby almost choked. It would have been my fault. (A mean, quiet thought followed... "That wouldn't be the first time.")
 
"But she didn't," Dan reminded me. "She didn't choke. You did everything right. You can't feel guilty for something you didn't do."
 
I still did. For a while. And I felt scared again. Life is too fragile and sometimes I don't like being in charge of such a precious life. She's only 5 months! So much can happen. Sometimes I feel I don't want the responsibility. (Because in the back of my mind lingers a quiet guilt that comes and goes. I'd wish it would just go.)
 
But I love being a mom. And these natural concerns come with the territory. In fact, these episodes probably happen all the time to so many parents, and it probably was no big deal really. If only it didn't bring back memories...