I try to be a pretty laid-back mom. Some of you who know me may have just spit your drink on your monitors, but in many ways, I think it's still pretty accurate. We've let Kyle suck on a lemon and gave him mashed sweet potatoes and other pureed veggies before six months (with the nod of approval from our pediatrician). I pass him to anyone who will take him and, so far, that's kept his Stranger Freak-Outs to a select few people.
So, last night when I took him to a family dinner, I didn't monitor what people were giving him bites of as closely as I should have. He got a bite of a baked sweet potato and a couple bites of a cobbler a la mode. We *think* (although we just can't be completely sure) the ice cream caused what happened after that.
On the drive home from dinner, Kyle started choking and gagging. I pulled the car over quickly and jumped in the back seat. He projectile vomited everywhere. He was covered in it, and his face was a deep red. I was scared, of course, but assumed he was given too large a bite of something and it got stuck when I strapped him into his car seat. I called Mike, a bit shaken, and told him what happened.
By the time I got home -- maybe five minutes later? -- I heard him choking/gagging again. This time, he stopped breathing and his eyes rolled in the back of his head. I screamed and ripped him out of his car seat. Seriously, adrenaline is a crazy bitch. I could have mauled a tiger right then if I had needed. I stuck my finger in his mouth again, and he began to cough and vomit again.
Although much more shaken up this time, I really thought that had to be it. I stripped him down, gave him a bath and decided to cuddle with him on the couch for a little while to make sure he was OK before I put him to bed.
Maybe 10 minutes later, he did it again.
After another couple times, I called an ambulance. The vomiting didn't bother me but the choking and his inability to breathe was too concerning. I was also worried about putting him back in his car seat to take him to the ER. (I feared the tight straps would make whatever was going on worse.)
He was OK in between the episodes, but the loss of consciousness and choking had me terrified. Although he's fine now and probably would have been fine if we had kept him home and simply monitored him, I have no regrets about taking him to the ER or calling the ambulance.
Mike got home right when the ambulance arrived, and we rode together to the hospital. Kyle did it once more right as we arrived at the ER.
He was given some anti-nausea medicine and we gave him water and monitored his heart rate. Once the doctor got to our room, he was almost asleep.
All of his passageways were clear, I should mention, and it never seemed as if there was something actually blocking his airways. He also hadn't been sick at all in the last couple days. Based on a couple other things, the doctor's best guess was the ice cream. He said if it was made with real cream, it could have caused such a reaction. He also said if that were it, it would probably cause quite a bit of gas (which it has).
We were released a while after that. He's been resting and normal most of this morning/today. He's not thrilled with the water/diluted juice we have to give him (only clear fluids for 24 hrs.), but he's happy and smiling and fine today. Thank god.
I'm sharing this story, I suppose, not to freak anyone out, but to try and get across how easily something so harmless can turn harmful. Babies are resilient. They can withstand more than we give them credit for, and I think most of parents' paranoia -- although totally understandable -- is also slightly unwarranted. But to completely contradict myself, you can never be too careful.
I suppose what I really want to get across by sharing this is that you should always go with your gut. ALWAYS. I should have been watching what he was eating more closely. I do blame myself, to be honest. I don't know how you can go through this and NOT blame yourself, even a little bit. Honestly, if I had seen Kyle eating ic cream sooner, though, I don't know if I would have jumped to the rescue as I know I should have. I wouldn't have wanted to embarrass anyone or make a scene. I hate that it caused something like this to give me the perspective I needed as a parent. I don't care if you think I'm a bitch or am overly protective or ridiculous in my parenting tactics. He's my kid, and, plain and simple, my gut is what most matters. Ruffling feathers will never be a concern again.
As moms, we're made to feel like we're being That Crazy Mom all the time. We're told to lighten up and relax and "what's the worst that can happen?" and so on and so forth. Most of the time, this is probably true. We should relax. We should lighten up. But not when our guts tells us to do the opposite. When our guts tell us to do something, my god, we should do it.
Watching my son stop breathing and turn blue was the worst moment of my life so far. Being That Mom hardly seems like a concern in light of experiencing what I experienced.
He's asleep right now, taking a nap with Mr. Pup, his favorite stuffed toy.
Thank god.