Saturday was an eventful day. Rachel and I went to swim class and then straight after went to Mother’s Beach to enjoy the day with a friend and her beautiful family. The plan was to go for a couple of hours, get baby girl home for a nap, bathe, and then hit a party or two that some friends were throwing.
My sunburn changed all of that, and so we stayed home and napped, and kept it lazy. For dinner I didn’t make anything special, in fact I don’t even remember what I made except for the Foster Farm Chicken Nuggets.
I had cut the nuggets up so baby girl could eat them. She isn’t a fan of chicken so I tend to cut them small so I can try to hide them in whatever else I am serving that night. She ate them on Saturday.
She was in the living room when I heard something odd. It sounded wet, if that makes any sense. I don’t know how else to describe it. When I peeked into the living room from the kitchen I saw her bent over, mouth open, making those wet noises. It was like she was trying to swallow but couldn’t. What was worse is that she wasn’t coughing, which meant no air.
I rushed over and did the Heimlich maneuver as best I could. So many things were rushing through my mind: hand placement is correct, if this doesn’t work I’ll have to call 911, they won’t get here in time, don’t hurt her, only one chance to do this right.
I placed my fist where I had been trained in the many first aid/CPR classes I took when I was coaching, and then as a lifeguard. Thankfully, I also took a class on infant first aid/cpr after Rachel was born as a refresher.
I pushed in but angled up so I could push the air out of her lungs along with anything that was in the way. Out of her mouth came the chicken, and what looked like some vomit. I still am unsure if I did it right, or if that would have happened regardless, but I don’t care. She breathed in, coughed, breathed in, breathed out, and went back to eating.
I was working on not fainting. I remained calm for her sake because I didn’t want to freak her out by going into absolute hysterics over what could have, but didn’t, happen. I sat on the couch and watched her while I waited for my heart to slow down to a normal rhythm. I didn’t pass out.
When I could move again, I gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and went into the kitchen. I poured myself a big glass of water do I wouldn’t cry. For some reason, drinking water can help me stay calm.
I still am rather shaken up by what happened. I have been a little scared to feed her anything that doesn’t disintegrate quickly since, and I tend to watch her more closely when she eats. I dint ever, EVER want to have to do that again.