This is more of a serious post today and a possible trigger warning for those of you with littles. Just wanted you to be aware.
A mother’s biggest fear, the real one, the one that stops her cold- If you’re a mom, you’re probably thinking of it right now. It usually has something to do with a child being hurt. Gravely hurt.
I know, it’s scary. Am I right, moms (and dads)?
Some of us go through our days really lucky that a skinned knee or a goose egg on the noggin are the worst of all that has happened to our littles, especially when we think about what they could be getting into. I mean, bubble wrap could make a killing if they came up with a child-proof bubble-wrap suit. Maybe one that wasn’t a suffocation hazard…
Anyway, when something happens, that’s out of your control it changes your perspective on things. I’ve been meaning to write this down in hopes of getting it and the fear of what happened to finally be put to rest. So here goes- bear with me.
Little Bear was about 10 days old, I believe. I can remember the dress she was wearing.
Hubs was on his way home from work, Bubba was with Daddo & Uncle E at Nina’s for a few moments and the girls were hanging out on the deck. Little Bear was sleeping.
We went back into the house because it’s warm in early June, and Little Bear had to eat.
She ate, burped and was just hanging out with us when she, as babies do, started to spit up- but it was a huge spit up. Like she had eaten way too much. Then, right after the first, she spit up again. A TON. It was amazing that one little body could hold so much spit.
Then, we noticed something was wrong. She sounded, stuffy. Like when you have a squeezy toy with too much water.
Oma is a nurse and I am First Aid/CPR trained- so we flipped her over to clear her out and help her not seem so stuffy. But, it wasn’t working.
It’s okay, It’s okay. We’ll get it.
So, we tried again. and again. and….again. By this point, she’s not crying as much and her little hands were turning gray, but there was no time to panic. We didn’t have an aspirator, the little bulb thing they send home with you from the hospital, and in hindsight I should have (I do now, it goes everywhere) so we tried to use… a turkey baster, maybe? I can’t really remember.
It. Didn’t. Work.
So, into the car seat and the car we went to head to the ER about a mile down the road.
As Little Bear was so young and small, the weight of her head slouched her down in the seat just enough, that she started to turn blue… blue. The color no mother wants to ever see in her child.
We ripped the car seat out of the car and Oma called 911.
I called my husband and said the words “Come to Moms. There is something wrong with Little Bear, we’re calling 911.” and hung up. How terrifying for him.
The whole experience was difficult, but this is the part that chills my bones.
While Oma was calling, I was holding my 7-lb daughter in my hands, on her side, bouncing her and repeating “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, baby. Just breathe. Please breathe” over and over again. I remember thinking I will not be a mother who loses her child. I can’t be a mother who loses her child. I. can’t.
Do you know how scary of a thought that is? How close we could have come?
It’s amazing what you remember after something has occurred. I do vividly remember begging for her to be okay. I can tell you I’ve never prayed harder in my life. Ever.
The EMS operator and team were fantastic. They had us lay her on the floor and watch her breathe, kept us as calm and updated us on the time until the ambulance arrived. They stayed on the line.
When the team arrived with the ambulance they came in and Little Bear’s color had started to return. Her little feet and hands were starting to regain their color and her breathing was less laborious. She’s a fighter. They checked and rechecked her heart, lungs, and o2 levels. They stayed while we watched her quite literally come back and were the absolute sweetest, most professional and calming team.
In the end, Little Bear is okay. I think I just held her for the next 3 weeks. Her Mommy is still recovering but only in a way that I worry about her, a lot. Probably a little more than I should. But I’m her Mommy, I get to have that right. I also think it is very interesting how Bubba was away at that very time. When he and the boys returned it was just in time to see the ambulance which he thought was the best day ever. Everything had been taken care of, Little Bear was ok and the emergency team was packing up to go. They say everything happens for a reason and I think it really does. Though I worry about Little Bear (and Bubba) constantly I have a bit more grace and patience when things go awry because I now know, it could always be worse.
There was a reason we were at Oma’s, closer to the hospital and with Oma who is a nurse. There was a reason Bubba was away. There was a reason Hubs made it in time to catch me as I cried after all was said and done. There is a reason that Little Bear came through that episode unscathed. I don’t know what it is, but there’s a reason, I’m sure.
I can’t ever thank Oma for all she’s done in my life. She and Daddo raised me (and my siblings) so very well and we’re better people for it. But now I can credit her with the ability to stay calm in a crisis and to show me how to handle, compose and restrain myself in times of need.
Oh, and for saving my daughter.