I could not write this story before because all I needed was to forget.
We all face the same issues. We brag about how good we are when we succeed but then we try to hide those times when we fail like it is some kind of taboo to make mistakes. Like it makes us bad parents. But I feel it is important for parents and human beings in general to share difficult situations and failures as it makes other parents feel more "normal". Less judged. And hopefully less judgemental. Because no matter what we do and how hard we try, we are all going to make mistakes eventually.
This one I almost made yesterday could have cost me my sanity, and probably my life. But thankfully I was well surrounded and got the immediate help I needed. And I am so grateful. But I still can not shake the guilt off. And it will take me a while to put this behind me, if I ever can.
Yesterday I was having a blast playing with Jad. He loves to play now. He is at this age when he constantly calls people to come to him and just (baby)talk. And maybe it is because he is my son and my love but I just find him irresistible. So I oblige (we all do). Only problem is, when he gets too happy and excited, he gets the hiccups. Not the cute kind. His and Mia's are unbelievably viscious. They last forever and the tiniest hic feels like an earthquake. Of course, it usually happens after feedings which makes it impossible for us to convince them to have a sip, not even a drop of whatever we are prepared to offer. And we are usually prepared to give anything, provided they agree to drink. But it is a fact: a full baby will not drink a thing. Then I remember I had not given him his vitamins and decide it could be a good time as it would hopefully help put an end to his hiccups fest. So I fill the medicine dropper and place it in the corner of his mouth and just squeeze a little. He looks at me differently and I know he just got a taste. Then he smiles the biggest of smiles. So I figure, he swallowed. He gives me a little "gheu" and I reply. And suddenly he turns red and he coughs. But not really. He tries to cough but it feels like he can not. He looks at me and all I can see is fear in his eyes. I see his eyes stare at mine, begging for me to help. To do something. So I grab him by the armpits and raise him out of his chair (thank God I always remember to unbuckle him when I feed him something). Nothing. He still tries to cough but it just will not come out! And he turns purple. Darker and darker. All the time his little eyes just staring in mine, begging. Begging for help. And I am fucking useless. So I scream for my mom to come and she and my dad run and grab him. They raise him all the while tapping his back and massaging his forehead. Still nothing. He just can not catch a breath. In the seconds that follow and which seem to last an eternity, all I can see are his little eyes, staring. Begging. Then finally, he cries. The fear is still there though, comfortably lingering in his eyes and it stays there for a while even after he is OK.
A fear I could not destroy. I simply let Jad down. I simply failed him.
I do not know how long it took. But I know I died a little.
Now every time I remember, all I can see are his eyes. His stare. Begging for help. And all I can do is cry. Because now, it has passed. Now, there is nothing (useful or not) to be done.
I do not know if things would have been the same had I been alone at home. Maybe my mommy-survival-instincts would have been sharper. More efficient. One can only hope. In the meantime, I am grateful I was well surrounded and thank God Jad is fine.
How fragile. How small. How helpless.
I just pray God Has mercy on my children and all children.
It will take me a few more nights to be able to sleep normally.
Mamma Mia
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