– Aeschylus

Many years ago T used to make homemade pizza.  Herbed tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with fresh basil.  The crusts were always perfectly thin and baked to perfection.  I can still remember the delicious aroma of the basil filling the house and the flavour – oh the flavour!  A savoury delight it was.  Around that time our son was about a year old, well into solids and with a healthy appetite.  I’d been brought up in an era before Mum Mums where kids were given Arrowroot cookies and bread crusts to gnaw on during teething.  I don’t know what came over me but I stupidly handed my son a piece of pizza crust to chew on, long after he needed things to chew on.   Then I watched helplessly as he put the whole piece into his mouth and then tried to swallow it.  I remember the feeling of my body going cold as I watched him watch me, his throat moving but nothing happening, no breath, no reaction.  I did what they say you’re not supposed to do, which was open his mouth and pull the crust out.  To my horror, there was a second piece of crust already halfway down his throat.  He wasn’t choking on the piece I’d handed him but he was choking on a piece that was already in his mouth.   I didn’t wonder where it’d come from but he’d obviously picked it up and eaten it when we weren’t paying attention.  Luckily I was able to grab that one too without pushing it farther down his throat.  I still shake as I write this.  I couldn’t believe it then and I still can’t believe how I could be so negligent that I put our sweet heart and soul into harm’s way, right in front of us.

Last night we had a dinner of garlic and butter rice, bean burritos and fresh tomatoes.  Darling daughter shared in the meal (she is a ravenous child, much like her brother was).  Since she was almost completely on a liquid diet in China while her teeth were coming in, she missed out on using her mouth to explore her food.  As a result her molars remain unsullied which is something we’re working on, but it requires a diligent chopping of all things into fine little bits.  Since she eats what we eat, if the meal is dry I’ll mix in some veggie broth so that it softens hers.  She will eat everything we put in front of her now and it doesn’t matter how pretty the meal is, they all end up in a beige mound.

It’s interesting to watch her eat as her little rosebud mouth is always closed and moves ever so slightly this way and that while she swishes her food back and forth between her teeth.  Then she swallows.  Since she didn’t know how to feed herself we’ve progressed to holding her hand while she grasps the fork or spoon and then we pick up the food from her bowl and put it into her mouth.  In the last two days she’s started to dip the spoon into her bowl to try to pick up food; successful or not, she gets the spoon into her mouth on her own speed.  This is monumental and with much cheering and ballyhooing, we’ve encouraged her to continue.  Although she still won’t initiate the movement, all we need to do now is just nudge her arm, and she finishes the rest, albeit unsteadily.

Last night she choked.  I was teleported back 8 years as I watched her scoop up a big piece of burrito that I’d obviously overlooked and it went straight into her mouth.  Same calm gaze, staring straight at me, same clicking throat, unable to swallow.  T and I stood up at the same time, I pulled off the tray, he unbuckled her and turned her upside down.  She immediately began to cry, which meant she was breathing.  Hallelujia!  Then when we righted her we expected her to spit it out but without opening her mouth she tried to swallow the piece AGAIN.   This time her mouth opened and she was trying to breath, choking and gagging.  I grab the phone to call 911 but T got her upside down and crying again.  She was doing her best to keep that food in her mouth and when he stood her up again, she wasn’t giving it up.  No way.  Displaying a perseverance that knows no bounds, she tried to swallow the damned thing again.  I don’t know what T did that time but it finally came flying out of her mouth and onto the floor.  Even the dog was so traumatized by this point that she didn’t even run over to eat it.  I just wanted to pour gasoline on the offending piece and light it on fire; she just wanted to get back into her seat to finish dinner.

What an ordeal.   Now our kids each have their own choking story.  Isn’t that what it’s all about when raising children?  Sharing, equality, fairness, a little bit of drama thrown in for good measure.  And guilt, of course.