I have been remiss about posting here. I build many entries in my head, but when I want to sit down and write, I don’t have the time. Or, I do have the time, but I have other things I want to do, such as take care of Grace, wash bottles and pump stuff, and do some beading.
Something happened this past weekend that is burned into my brain and I’m still struggling with it.
Let me backtrack a little bit. Gracie used to have reflux, which caused her to choke on viscous-y, slimy mucous. We would have to suction it out of her nose to help her breathe. The first time it happened, it was beyond frightening. Her eyes got wide, her arms and legs windmilled frantically, and I think I lost years of my life from the whole experience. But, once we figured out what was happening and she was put on some medication to help her have fewer episodes, we were able to clear her out when she had them. The blue bulb syringe the hospital gave us came in handy on several occasions.
Eventually, Gracie didn’t need the medication for her reflux and she no longer had the episodes.
Sunday, I noticed Gracie had been spitting up a little more frequently than she normally does. I decided to change her shirt into a fresh, clean one and put her on the changing table. One second I was making her giggle by blowing raspberries on her belly and the next, her eyes went wide with terror, her arms and legs windmilling. I panicked.
I said, “Michael, something’s happening! Michael! Something’s wrong!” He rushed in, and there I was, panicking, not knowing what to do. I had already reached for the bulb syringe and started to automatically suction out her nose, but there was no viscous-y mucous to suction. Her face started turning red, and she stopped breathing, her eyes round with terror.
She managed to cry a few seconds later and all I could do was cry right along with her. I held her for a moment and then Michael took her and sat her down in her rocker.
The terror I felt and have felt since scares me. I’ve already lost a son. Even though I can’t control the future or know what is in store for myself or my family, I can’t stand the fact that there’s a possibility something bad can happen. I watch other people I know who have small children living seemingly carefree lives with their children and I can’t help but wonder if they know what it’s truly like to feel the terror I feel every day?
I leave for work and worry about other people’s driving skills because I want to come home. I worry about everything. A friend once said I worry about the whether the sun will rise in the sky each day, so it’s nothing new for me to worry. But, this fear I have is almost all-encompassing. I wish I could shake it. I’ve been told by other parents that the fear for their children never goes away. I think a healthy fear is fine, but what I feel is almost debilitating. What happened this weekend drove home that feeling. I was starting to feel more carefree with Gracie, enjoying all her milestones she’s reached and watching her grow with pride and wonder. This was unexpected. I guess in a way, it was a sobering reminder that anything can happen and I need to remember that. Still, I want to be that parent who is more carefree and less of a worrywart.
Other than the episode this weekend, Gracie is doing really well. She’s sitting on her own more and more and has almost figured out crawling. Watch out world. When she wants something, she reaches for it and will try and take it. She’s gotten really good at noticing when we take something and put it out of her reach or hide it behind us so she can’t take it. She follows the item with her eyes and knows it’s being hidden. Recently, she’s become obsessed with my phone bag. It’s a little zipper pouch I bought from an Etsy seller who makes the cutest stuff. It fits my phone perfectly, but I don’t want Gracie playing with it because I’m around teenagers all day and who knows what kind of cooties they bring around? So, I gave her a zippy pouch I haven’t used. Michael put one of her little toys in it and now she’s completely fascinated with it. That’ll keep her busy for awhile.
Watching Gracie grow into a little person is an amazing experience, if not a scary one. Hopefully, I can move away from the terror I feel.