All parents have one.
That horrible, nightmarish fear that flashes through your brain that lends itself to somehow harming your precious child.
Mine has always been someone kidnapping or taking my child.
Doug holds a deep fear of water and one of his babies drowning.
Both of us are terrified of the prospect of one of them choking.
We lived one of those nightmares a few days ago.
My fingers are getting all shaky, even as I type this. I need to stop for now.
A few days break, and I think I am ready.
Sundays, after church, we like to go out for lunch. Last Sunday, we decided to head out to Pop’s and treat ourselves to some yummy food and delicious sodas. This kids love going here, and Doug and I think the food is the best in the realm of greasybadforyou stuff.
Our boy has been quite the finicky eater as of late, and he doesn’t’ quite eat enough on his own to constitute getting him his own meal, so we decided to just get him some fruit (his favorite) and let him graze off our plates.
He was extremely restless and trying to climb the walls (I remind myself daily to breathe and remember this stage passes), so Doug took him our in the grassy area to run off some energy. When they got back, Seth was ready to eat and he sat down willingly in a big boy chair and begin munching on the fruit I had meticulously cut into small pieces for him.
Like I said, he is in the grazing stage, and because he hasn’t been eating well (molars coming in is my guess), I was happy to let him grab a French fry or tomato from my plate. Pickles are a new love for him, so I smiled as he gave me a questioning look and reached to snag one from my plate. I stopped him before he popped the thick cut pickle slice and chopped it into bite size pieces for him.
I saw that first little gag face. Doug did too. We both gave him a little back pat and a “you okay, buddy?”.
Through watery eyes and a froggy voice, he replied, “I’m okay, mommy.”.
We figured an apple slice went down wrong or something.
Then, seconds later. I looked up to see him really gagging. I saw his eyes squint up and his face turning bright red in color. I jumped from my seat and blurted out Doug’s name. We both reached for him with knee-jerk reaction. Doug pulled his arms up and I immediately reached for his mouth.
My first thought was, That darn apple is still giving him trouble. I will just reach in and pull it out.
But as I went to stick my finger in his mouth, he let out a raspy almost cry and then there was just this terrible airy sound that came behind it. Then there was silence.
His mouth was wide open. His eyes were clenched tight. It appeared he was releasing a blood curdling scream that his tantrums of late have perfected, but there was nothing. Nothing.
Just a faint almost gurgling sound in the back of his throat.
My hooked fingers dove in. I could feel something. By this time I had swooped him up and Doug was calling out directions.
Reach in there and scoop it out. Hit him hard in the middle of the back. Here let me try.
Things went from scary to complete panic for me in mere seconds. I remember passing him off to Doug and seeing his little face. It was no longer red. It was like a deep purple now, and I could see foamy spit around his mouth.
I know I screamed. My mind was trying to go through all the training I had ever had for this type of incident, but my heart was crying out, Is this it? Is this how this type of thing plays out? But the sun is shining. It is such a nice day. There are people all around us. Happy people. The kids are out there on that grass running and playing. The grass where Seth ran carefree moments ago. .
In a matter of seconds, I could feel a flurry of activity around me. People were rushing to call 9-1-1, reaching for Seth, calling out “I’m a nurse!” , “I am a heart surgeon!” , “Help is coming!”. Panic. .
I saw Doug turn him over one more time. He looked like a little doll in a giant’s hands. Doug banged his back on last time, and I saw one looked like a small fleck of something fall from his lips. For several seconds, I had stood there helpless, but with this, I reached through the many hands and grabbed for my boy.
One last time, I scooped my fingers in his mouth. I could feel something hard and stringy. A PICKLE!
I knew right away this was not the one I had cut up for him. In his grazing, he had grabbed a thick cut slice and popped it in his mouth while we weren't’ looking.
With my fingernail, I was able to grab it and pull the long skin piece out to the top of his mouth. I yelled out to Doug to strike his back once more, and out it came.
With his pale eyes and blue lips, he let out a pathetic cry. “Mama!”
I can’t tell you much about the next few minutes or even following hours. I think my hands were shaky through the rest of the afternoon.
I do remember that as the fury of the incident died off, lots of folks came up to just pat us on the backs and offer words of comfort. Seth had his head on my shoulder and face tucked into my neck while I sobbed and smiled back a look of thanks.
Basically, my boy was okay. He was a little shook up and sore in the throat (mom’s probing fingers), but a while later he was back to running crazy and worry free.
You always hear people who go through things like this, or even worse things, tell you to cherish you little ones more. Hug them a little tighter. Squeeze them longer.
Anytime I hear those terribly sad and horrifying stories of someone’s child falling in a washing machine and drowning or choking to death on an apple or simply succumbing to a senseless disease, I have that same emotion wash over me.
I am giving you one of those stories right now, but with a better ending.
Go give your kids an extra hug tonight, and give them a thousand kisses.
I am so grateful I still have mine to squeeze.
