It wasn't that I didn't want to go to church yesterday. I wanted to be late. I am not used to factoring in baby care time to my estimated get-ready-for-church time. Especially with a baby who needs her hair washed before church. No diaper-wipe wipedown for her.
Apparently, however, Charlotte didn't want to just be late. She wanted to lounge around in her jams all day before going to mom's birthday dinner at The Olive Garden. So when mom said
"I think I'll miss the first hour today-"
"Let's make it one better."
So she stopped breathing, went stiff, then limp, then purple. Now mom has seen this before, but dad?
Not so much.
It's funny how much of the life-saving routine is focused on getting Zar away from the scene. He's yelling "BOO? BOO? C'MON!" and smacking her whilst I'm trying to listen for breath. Her color starts to come back right as she goes limp, and then her entire 5 oz bottle of soy milk comes flooding out of her nose and mouth, which was entirely too much for Dad, so he is sent to talk to the nice 911 dispatcher.
I give a couple of rescue breaths and maintain her airway, shocked at my calmness, thinking maybe I could do ER nursing, except I don't want to deal with pissed off people with stomach aches.
Zar is saying:
"Yes, four months. Yes, she has a history of this. No I don't think she is sweating. I'm the dad. I don't know, I think her color is coming back."
Then Boo lets out a very pissed off, blood curdling scream, and we cancel 911. She is nice and red and feeling tingly and head-achey, I'm sure, and we rub her back and clean up the spit and say "good girl, good, good girl."
I've already removed her cute pink and brown sunday dress so the paramedics won't cut it off-we've already lost a pair of cute cordouroy pants that way-and so Boo gets into her pink and pink striped jamies, has another bottle, and goes to sleep.
Her pupils are reactive. Her lungs sound clear. She's acting like herself, and we don't take her to the ER. Afterall, she's had every test in the book. We stay home from church and take a family nap, and then go to the Olive Garden as planned. Boo has had a hard day and sleeps most of it away.
The next morning, mom, who put up a very good calm, this-is-no-big-deal front, takes Boo to an emergency doctor's appointment to re-check her lungs---thank goodness, clear--and vows to never miss another dose of prevacid. Life goes on.