Daddyman @ Home: Choking

I don't think I've been more afraid in my life...and so emotionless.

It was either Sunday or Monday night this week, and we were just settling down and getting ready to go to bed. Both girls had their bottles and burps, and we were snuggling them into their bassinet. I had laid Baby Teal in bed while Pink was swaddling up Little Miss Purple. I made it a pit stop in the bathroom, and...

...turned into a robot.

"Pink, it's Teal, she's not breathing, her face is purple." I dash over and squeezed her cheeks and tried to get them open, but her mouth was shut like a vice, despite by very forceful adult fingers trying to get in.

Infant CPR from the hospital kicked in.

I picked her up, turned her over, held her head down on my left arm, patting with more force than I'd care to admit on her 3 week old spine. A couple quick pats, I turn her over, and she's got formula coming out of her noise.

Pink is freaking out, but I think in the scheme of things, I knew that was good because the fluid was draining somewhere. Still, no breathing.

I roll her back over, pat her some more, and see more fluid. A whole 20 seconds has passed and Pink screams, "Oh my god! This is not working! Call 911 now!" Her brain is working because I'm working on Baby Teal, so she flies to the other side of the room, dials them up, and remains calm and clear when asked and reasked for the address.

I don't know when it happened, but Teal's pathways cleared and she started some shallow breaking, so I heaved her over my shoulder and gently patted her on the back. They were short labored breaths, but they were breaths.

The 911 operator says they're sending people over, so we head downstairs, and I open the the front door and turn on the porch light so they know which house to come into.

I no more come back into the living room and a police officer knocks twice and enters the house.

"How's the baby?"

"I think we're okay," Pink says, "She's breathing, but not too well."

The officer visible relaxes. I know that relaxed feeling. It's the same feeling of driving hell bent into an emergency situation assuming the worst and realizing it isn't going to be that bad. "Good, with these calls involving children, I think of my own and start to imagine what I'd do if it was my kid."

We all have a tense laugh, and one minute later, a firetruck arrives and the firefighters some right on in and I place Teal on the changing table in the living room.

After catching them up on everything, they listen to her heart rate and for fluid on the lungs, but by this time she's settled down.

Then Med-Act arrives 1 minute later. 6 minutes ago I had a house of 5. Now I've added a police offier, three firefighters, and three med-act personnel.

I saw Med-Act relax when I said, "Welcome to the Party!"

We signed some paperwork that night to say we're keeping Teal at home rather than taking her to the hospital to have her checked out. I shook both the firefighters hands has Pink said, "You know, Little Blue is going to be pissed off in the morning when he finds out REAL firefighters were in our house."

This all happened right around midnight, so Pink and I stayed up till about 3 or 4am to give the girls another feeding and put them to bed.

It was the first time Pink's had to call 911, but not my first 911 altercation. Being a Resident Assistant and Assistant Hall Director in college, I got pretty comfortable giving the emergency services a call when needed.

I was totally cool and calm through the whole thing, I barely said a thing, just did what my mind told me to do and what my muscles remembered to do.

I'll say this though, I look at them pretty often to make sure their little chests are moving up and down or that their pacifiers are gyrating minutely in their mouths.

Please...don't let me go through that again.