what I write about
she has fallen and now she is awake
BunBun is five and a half months. At the point where she grabs food out of your hand, but doesn’t eat, simply slobbers. So while I was cooking dinner I have her a thick slice from the pear I was chopping for salad. I continued making dinner, she slobbered on the pear, threw her cup and spoon, and gabbled away. All was well. I turned to put a few things back in the fridge when I heard her choke.
You know, that garbled attempt to breathe. Almost a sob, or a heave. I dropped what was in my hand and spun. She was in the highchair and straining, bright red and no sound. Tears. I pulled her forward and searched her mouth. Nothing. She threw herself back and forth and I yelled for Wolfman. He came running as I drove my fingers into her throat. I found the soggy, tiny piece of pear. I could touch it. I couldn’t hook it, couldn’t grab it.
I started to swear, I tried to get her out of the chair but I couldn’t. The motion jerked her upwards and I tried again to get the pear. I couldn’t reach it at all now. I yelled at Wolfman to get her out of the chair. I tilted her forward.
She whooped an inward breath. Then screamed. And screamed again. And whooped once more. Then coughed. I held my breath, visions of aspiration pneumonia. She screamed and cried and then sniffled, her face buried in my neck.
I began to cry.
Wolfman held us and asked if we were okay. I sobbed and BunBun began to cry again then as well. He rescued the apple and pear sauce still bubbling away, and picked up the teatowel on the floor. I jiggled BunBun as I checked the pizza. Nothing was burnt, nothing was even close to cooked yet. I finished dressing the salad and waiting for the pizza to finish. We ate our dinner and BunBun had hers. There’s not a single thing wrong now.
Except the aftershocks of terror and the guilt. I wasn’t watching her close enough. She’s too young for solids. The chair is antique and refurbished with no bar to hold her in. There’s no harness, just a mess of ties keep her from sliding under and out. I hurt her throat, digging for the pear. My fingernails are too long.
My fingers were too short.
Yes I’ve learnt my lesson. No more slobbery bits of fruit. I’m getting a proper harness and/or fixing the chair. I’m updating my first aid as soon as I can because I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t learnt the fishing around as the first step.